Page 96 of Tyler
Shit, my heart. I reach out, grab his outstretched ankle, and tug him toward me until he’s close enough to kiss. I lay one on him—slow, grinning, absolutely fucking gone for this man.
“I also love you more than French fries,” I mumble against his amazing mouth.
His laugh vibrates between us, soft and warm. “Well, I for fucking sure hope so, since you’re not even a big fan of them.”
“IlikeFrench fries,” I scoff. “But Iloveyou.”
“Good enough for me.”
We float for a second, just grinning at each other, the ocean gently rocking us, the sky stretched out in a colorful blur above. Then he squints past me, expression flipping from dreamy to devious in a heartbeat.
“I love you, Ty. But first—fuckingpaddlelike your life depends on it. Big one coming.”
“What—?”
I twist to look over my shoulder. And holy shit. He’s not kidding. The swell behind us is rising fast, big and clean andbeautiful.
“Go, go, go!” Jace shouts, already turning and paddling like hell.
I’m laughing as I follow, heart thudding with adrenaline and love and whatever else this perfect-ass day is made of.
And as we catch the wave together, dropping into the rush and speed and spray, I know, absolutely, unequivocally, that I’ll chase every wave with him.
For as long as he’ll fucking have me.
TWENTY-ONE
Thenextfewweekspass in a blur of way too many orgasms, too little sleep, and still not enough alone time.
I’d kinda assumed Ty would have more downtime after the regular season ended. That shows howverywell-versed I am in anything football-related. Turns out, if your team makes the semifinals and maybe even the championship (which, yeah, they fucking did, have I mentioned how proud I am?), there’s no such thing as a break. If anything, they’re training harder than ever.
They got the call two weeks ago, the weekend right after Thanksgiving. Since then, the house has basically turned into team HQ. Guys dropping in to go over tape, others showing upfor these impromptu strategy sessions in the kitchen, and some just nervously hovering around Ty, their captain, like he’s got all the answers. Which, to be fair, I think he kinda does.
I get it—I really do. And honestly? I love it. I love seeing Ty in his element, doing what he was born to do, surrounded by his team, his dream. He’s such a steady fucking force, the kind of calm that everyone else gravitates toward. He’s the center of it all, and they orbit around him like he’s their anchor.
Not gonna lie, Lam’s been stepping up too. We joke about him a lot, sure, but I finally get why he’s co-captain. No matter how ridiculous andloudhe gets, football is his life. And when it counts, he shows up.
When my babe is too busy and I’m not in LA, I jog, or hang out with Ty’s parents, who now have ten ducklings waddling around in the old chicken run in their backyard. The boys were smart enough to let Patrick and Patrice go back to Ty's parents since it's safer. Honestly, it’s cute as hell. Ty’s dad even built them a tiny ramp into their water bin like it’s a fucking duck spa. So yeah, I try to visit the little cuties when I can.
But today, I’m on campus. They’ve got a big scrimmage, and I want to be here for it. I love watching them play, love watching Ty in his zone, calling plays like he owns the damn field. Even if, about ten minutes in, I usually end up swarmed by Encore fans and I spend hours posing for selfies, signing phone cases, someone always asking if I can sing something. But it’s worth it. Every time.
I swear, every student on this damn campus must already have something signed by now, but they just keep coming from every fucking direction like some secret Encore fan army. I snort, thinking about that TikTok I saw last week, speculating I’d gone back to school. Someone had filmed me sitting in one of those big-ass lecture hall presentations and posted it like they wereonto something, which turned into a full blown online mass investigation.
I let them speculate. If they’re that oblivious to the fact that Tyler is always next to me, or hovering close whenever we’re walking across campus, then that’s on them. Let them think I’m working on a degree or something, keeps them busy.
Our relationship is gonna get out sooner or later, and honestly? I don’t care. Not anymore. I do care about Tyler, though. The only thing that matters to me is his wellbeing. So he’s the one who gets to make that call when he’s ready. I’ll follow his lead.
I’m halfway through massacring some tomatoes and peppers for a very late breakfast (they really shouldn’t let me near anything with a knife) and like every damn day since it happened, I catch myself thinking about that completely chaotic, completely perfect proposal. Out of the blue. Out of his heart. And damn straight into mine.
I could see theoh shitmoment right as the words flapped out of his mouth. He didn’t plan that. And honestly? That made it even better. It was pure. Ours.
I didn’t lie. I love him more than I love French fries. In my world, that’s saying something. And I also didn’t lie about the fact that I would’ve said yes if it weren’t for this fucking visa hanging over our heads.
Because yeah… my heart broke a little when I had to say no. I didn’t want to say no. He’s my love, my life, my light. Always has been, always will be.
But I need it to be aboutus.Justus. And judging by the mix of relief and understanding on his face when I said that, he gets it. He agrees.
Still… the butterflies in my gut grow a little more each day. And god, I really do hope I get to say yes someday.
