Page 79 of The Pucking Proposal

“Gross!” Shep recoils in faux indignation. “Do you know how often hockey players get athlete’s foot? Or how infrequently they wash their uniforms? And goalies are, like, the laziest guys on the ice. They just stand there and wait for the action to come to them.” He mimes standing slack-jawed and bored, his eyes going vacant.

He’s kidding, somehow bouncing back to his usual goofball self that quickly. My brother really is one of the good ones, standing up for me when he thought I needed it, but letting me stand on my own choices when I make it clear that Dalton’s what I want.

“I’ll tell him you think that. See how well it goes over,” I quip, knowing I won’t do anything of the sort. I need them to get back to being friends, not throw a can of kerosene on the fire.

“Uh, maybe don’t do that,” Shep replies, rubbing his jaw. “I’m still recovering from his last bout of laziness.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Guys are so weird.”

“True story. And fine, I’m still mad he didn’t tell me, but I guess I forgive you or whatever.”

“You are truly a wordsmith, brother,” I declare, smiling as I insult him the way we always do. “Or whatever.”

And just like that, everything’s okay. I’m sure there will still be awkwardness between Shep and Dalton, but this is a big step in the right direction.

“Lunch?” Mom asks, rising from her recliner. Dad takes the cue and stands, too, shuffling into the kitchen after her.

Once they’re out of earshot, Shep leans over toward me and whispers, “So from the female perspective, is the piercing worth it? Beenthinking about getting one myself, but the healing time scares the shit outta me.”

My eyes pop open wide. “Shepherd Barlowe, I am not discussing my boyfriend’s dick with you!”

“Ssshhhh,” he hisses, glancing toward the kitchen like Mom’s gonna come back with a wooden spoon to swat him.

When he turns back to me, I smirk and lift one brow. “You really want to know?” I whisper conspiratorially.

His face goes stock still. “Nope, changed my mind. Forget I asked. Don’t want to know a single thing.La la la la.” He puts his fingers in his ears at the end, sprinting for the kitchen to get away from anything else I might say.

I think we’ll be okay. It’ll take time, and probably be weird the first time Dalton comes to family dinner, but eventually, I think it’ll be fine.

Epilogue

Dalton

“Did you fuck for the playoffs?” Shepherd asks, holding up a hand for a high five in the locker room as we get ready for the biggest game of the season.

I gawk at him. “You did not just ask me that,” I deadpan, even though I most definitely heard him correctly.

“What?” he says, shrugging. “We need all the good luck we can get, and who am I to argue with anything that’s gotten us the best season in recent history?”

It’s been only a few weeks since our on-ice fight, but things are mostly back to normal between us.

At first, he tried suggesting that I’d taken advantage of his sweet, innocent sister, but I’d asked him who the hell he was talking about and followed up by inquiring if he’s actually met Joy Barlowe before. After Joy told him what really happened, he was pretty okay with me.

Though there was a hot minute where he proposed asking June out to see how I liked my friend dating my sister. I think the wordsturnabout is fair playwere used, but I’d laughed at the very idea. My sister’s a brainiac who’d rather run science experiments on Shep than date him. After that, and a few other snarky quips, we’ve settled on one way to make things right.

I am, forever and ever, Shep’s beer bitch. It’s mostly a symbolic reminder, but the agreement is that I buy his beers, get them from the bar, and hand deliver them to him. Luckily, he’s solidly on Fritzi’s nutrition plan, too, and doesn’t drink often, so it’s not a hardship. Grabbing a beer for a friend is the least I can do when I’m fucking his sister.

Which I did do last night. For good luck. And also because we wanted to. We want to basically every day, so if our luck holds, the Moose should be the winners by the end of the night.

Final score:Moose: 4. Beavers: 3.

And with that, the Moose are the league champs! It’s not any one guy’s win. We did it together, as a team, each of us playing a part in the victory.

And the celebration.

The locker room is loud as fuck, high fives smacking and cheers yelled in every direction.

There’s only one face I want to see, though, and it doesn’t belong to a Moose.

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