Page 57 of His Jersey

He turns to me, eyes sparking. “I think you should come to Nebraska with me.”

I notice he doesn’t say that he wants me to, this must be part of his plan to salvage his career. I ask, “To wear your jersey?”

“And be my fiancée.”

I nearly inhale a piece of popcorn. His metal water bottle sits on the table and I take a long sip.

Clearing my throat, I say, “That escalated quickly. No dating first? You want to completely bypass the girlfriend-boyfriend courtship?”

“I did ask you to be my girlfriend earlier and we’ve already kissed, so it’s not a huge leap.”

“You may be Jack the Flash, but I’m not fast. Also, don’t forget, there’s my job. I took a couple of days off, but I have to be back.”

“I can take care of that,” he says as if practiced in making problems disappear.

I know all too well that nothing in life is that easy. “What happened to the no catch clause?”

“This is an addendum to the original non-existent contract.” He tosses a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

What I’d give for my life to be so easy. The night we snuck into the pool makes more sense. He wasn’t ever going to get in trouble. His safety doesn’t have holes. The suggestion that we be someone else that night comes to mind.

Exhaling through my nose, I say, “Little did I know I was actually auditioning for the Jack Bouchelle Show.”

“The Ella and Jack Show.” He pulls out his phone, showing me house listings in a suburb of Omaha called Cobbiton.

“Cobbiton like corn or like the Shire?” I ask vaguely.

“Both.”

“Wait, do you get that reference?”

“Why the air of surprise? I’ve read all three works by J.R.R. Tolkien andThe Silmarillion. You know, for reference purposes.”

My smile must look slightly deranged.

“Impressed?”

“That’s commitment.”

“I can be when it matters.” The words slip past me and I tell myself not to be a fool. Not to fall.

We get nerdy aboutThe Lord of the Ringstrilogy for a few minutes.

I say, “It was my dad’s favorite. He’d reread it every year.”

“As one should.”

My smile grows because this guy surprises me in the best of ways.

He shows me homes that are much grander than hobbit holes. I chuckle at one property description’s final sentence,Cobbiton embraces the small-town spirit with big hockey brawn and more corn than you can shake a cob at.Another calls itHockey Townand highlights easy access to the Ice Palace arena.

“Is the ink even dry on the contract with the Knights?” I ask.

“It feels like a sure thing.” His gaze lolls over mine like it’s a foregone conclusion.

My internal warning flags flutter in the breeze. I should decline, delete, go back to the island. “But you need a fake fiancée to seal the deal?”

Jack pivots so he’s facing me and holding eye contact, says, “When it comes to me, you don’t have to protect yourself. I won’t hurt you. Trust me.”

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