Page 70 of Game Face

“Oh, and hey, Wyatt?”

I spin on my heels but keep stepping away as I lift my chin.

“If you’re looking for the ring, you might want to check her sock drawer.”

I stop dead. My mouth opens.

“I thought you were getting out of here?” Whiskey shouts as the exit door slams shut behind him.

I blink a few times, and Tasha wiggles her fingers in a wave as she rolls up the window. My gaze bounces back to my friend, and my agape mouth forms a shocked smile.

“I’m leaving now!”

I don’t know how it ended up in her possession, and I am positive she would fight me on it if I brought it up right now, but the fact the ring found its way from my sock drawer to hers is some sort of sign. I have zero doubt.

Pausing for a second as I get into my truck, Tasha’s words run through my mind, and I decide to toss my gear bag in the back rather than on the floor of the passenger seat. She’s right. That shit smells bad. And if there’s a chance I might get to take my girl for a drive somewhere tonight, I’d like to put my best foot forward.

I hop in, crank the engine, and peel away, grabbing the hat from my passenger seat to squash the wild hair left from my shower. When I got Peyton’s text, I pretty much forgot about everything else. It’s a miracle I remembered to put my pants on. In fact . . . I glance down.

Yeah, I have pants.

The sun is starting to go down a lot earlier, so it’s dusk by the time I pull into Peyton’s driveway. There are a few extra trucks parked to the side, and I’m guessing from the Coolidge Bears stickers on a few of them that there’s a coaches’ meeting happening inside.

The arena is lit up, but as far as I can tell, Peyton’s not out there, so I head to the front door and knock before pushing it open.

“Hey! There’s our state record holder!” Reed’s father shouts as I step into a room full of people. About a dozen men, some of whom I recognize, crane their necks and look in my direction.Buck likes to give his son shit for losing his record to me. I think he likes to stir the pot, too, and get Reed worked up at me.

“Yeah, yeah. He didn’t break the college ones, though,” Reed fires back, holding up his half-drunk beer as a toast to my failure.

“I mean, I’m still gonna make out with your daughter later, so?—”

“Ohhhhhh burnnnnnn!” someone shouts, while a few other guys chirp. Reed, ever the classic, holds up a middle finger, then smirks.

“She’s waiting out back. And for the record, I’ve got cameras everywhere.” He winks and I chuckle, but as I leave the room, the laughter still roaring behind me, I mentally catalog all the times Peyton and I have done things around this house.

I step out the back door to the walkway that winds around to the stone patio. Peyton’s waiting for me, braced on the new walker her grandfathers built for her. She’s wearing black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a braid, and one of those knitted headbands covering her ears. She’s so cute in the winter.

“Did you know your dad has cameras everywhere?” I ask, startling her. She smiles big at seeing me, and my heart kicks wildly.

She shrugs, a devilish grin playing at her lips before she looks away to situate her hands on her handlebars.

“Peyt, that’s not funny.” It’s a little funny.

“Relax, Wyatt. I disabled anything that would have caught something incriminating.” She flits her gaze up through her lashes, teasing me. Something’s changed. It’s a glimmer of her old self, a taste of the gritty wild woman who pushes boundaries and breaks barriers.

“I’m not sure if that makes me feel any better.” I chuckle.

“Come on. We gotta get a horse,” she says, tilting her head toward the barn.

I hop close, my hands ready to help her, but before I can hold up some of the weight on her right side, she steps forward with nobody’s help at all. I stand still and let her get about a dozen paces away before she notices, stopping and glancing over her shoulder.

“Wow,” I say.

Her mouth tips up on one side.

“You talking about my ass or the walking part?”

My lips pull in tight, and I fight off the laugh.

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