I turn toward her, my mouth open. A scant second later, my shorts begin to vibrate, alerting me to a phone call. Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes.

“You okay, Jordan?” Renae asks.

My pulse begins to race a mile a minute and a headache starts thumping at the base of my skull. “You know, I’m not sure.”

The phone in my pocket continues to vibrate, the sound seeming to get louder and louder. Little dings follow. Message after message is racking up.

“Ummm … are you going to get that?” Renae asks, her tone cautious as if she expects me to spaz out at any moment. It’s possible I might. I flinch when she reaches out and proceeds to pet me, her hand stroking my forearm in a slow, soothing motion.

“No.” I open my eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her expression of cautious delight changes to one of understanding. “You didn’t know he was going to do that, did you?”

“No.” The word comes out slow and shaky.

Her whole face lights up. “How romantic!”

“Sure.” My voice begins to rise as I speak, verging on hysteria. “Everything is all crazy and romantic until someone gets maimed!”

Meaning me. Nicky is going to shit a brick. He likely already has. He’s just waiting for me to check my voicemail and hear how it went down. Hell. “I have to go.” Grabbing my bag, I sling it over my shoulder and flee the stands.

My phone gives me a reprieve as I head for the locker room. It lasts five seconds. I’ll have to face the music sooner or later, but later is the sanest option right now. Winding my way quickly through hordes of people, I smack into a hard, grimy chest. Blinking, I stumble back. Before I can steady myself, I’m lifted and squeezed in a rib-cracking hug. I come face-to-face with Eddie, a grin splitting his face.

“It’s Mrs. Madden!” he shouts.

“Shhhh!” I glance around. Players are heading for their lockers, and reporters and trainers are swarming the area like bees. “Keep it down.”

Eddie laughs. It’s a loud, booming sound that comes from deep in his belly. “I’m pretty sure the whole world knows.”

My lips pinch. “Where is he?”

“Where’s who?”

“Peter Piper,” I hiss with loaded sarcasm. “He stole my pickled peppers and I want them back.” Another belly laugh from Eddie jostles me in his arms. “Put me down and go find Brody,” I order. “I have a killing to get to.”

He cocks his head as he sets me on my feet. “You know, I think you’re a bit pissy.”

“I am?” I wave my hand in a swift circle around my face. “Because this is my expression of happy excitement.” Try as I might, I can’t seem to un-pinch my lips and form a smile. I raise my brows instead. “I want to go hug the man of the hour. Mr. Pepsi NFL Rookie of the Week.”

My phone dings a few more times. Eddie’s gaze drops in the direction of the sound and comes back up. “Are you going to get that?”

“No!”

“You know…” he cocks his head “…if anyone has a right to be pissy, it’s us.”

“Us?”

“Your friends.” Eddie slings a sweaty arm around my shoulders and starts leading me toward the locker room. “Well, at least I thought we were.” He glares down at me, making his displeasure clear. “What’s the deal, Elliott?”

We reach the locker room to the loud chants of “Madden, Madden, Madden!” Eddie starts pushing me through the door, and I struggle backwards. “I can’t go in there!” But it’s like swimming against the tide. I’m expelled into the room like I’ve shot out from an overflowing storm drain.

My presence goes unnoticed as the chants continue. A champagne cork pops. The room is sprayed. Then I see him, caught in the middle of the rowdy bunch. Shirtless, soaking wet football pants, sweet sticky alcohol dripping from his chest, and a huge grin on his face. My heart pounds. He’s so full of life. So happy. So vital. I can’t shit all over that. At least not right now. I’ll do it later.

Pushing my way through the fray until I stand behind Brody, I tap him on the shoulder.

He turns and his grin falters. Taking my hand in a brave gesture, Brody lifts it to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of it. Desperate to preserve my anger, I restrain the visible shiver. Instead it rocks me on the inside, all the way down to my toes.

“Marry me, Jordan.”

I should say no. That would be the logical, smart thing to do, and I’ve always been logical and smart. We’re both young. We both have careers. We haven’t even graduated college. Yet I can’t bring myself to form the two-letter word. I swallow, my mouth dry. “I need to think about it.”

After a pause, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “That’s not a no.”

“And it’s not a yes.”

“Jordan.” Brody reaches across the restaurant table and grabs both my hands in his. There’s hope in his eyes and a doggedness that tells me he’s not letting this go easily. “Your whole life you’ve done what you’re told. Study, training, games. You’ve followed the path set out for you. Don’t you want to break free of that? At least a little? Life’s too short to wake up at the end of your soccer career and wonder if it was all worth it.” He squeezes my hands. “Do something crazy.” The words take root inside me and my heart begins to thump. “Make life worth living, Jordan. With me.”

How was I supposed to say no? Instead, I woke the next morning with a ring on my finger, and the knowledge that crawling off into a deep dark hole to die would be better than facing my brother with the news. I tried telling him, easing him into the idea by mentioning Brody’s proposal, but he completely lost it. How could I tell him the truth after that?

Brody lowers my hand. “Are you mad?”

“Am I mad?” It’s not obvious? “Your little announcement tonight has brought the wrath of hell down on both of us.” Nicky would be the leading torchbearer. “We’re both dead.”

“And what a sweet tragedy it would be, Jordan Matilda Madden.” Brody shakes his head in mock sadness, yet there’s mischief glinting in his eyes. “But so be it.” He spreads his arms out wide and winks. “Life wouldn’t be worth living if you weren’t married to me anyway, right?”

Brody

“If that’s how you feel …” Jordan digs inside the pocket of her shorts. She pulls out her phone. Grabbing my hand, she slaps the device in my palm. “Then you can talk to Nicky.”

It vibrates in my hand. I check the screen and see that possibly every person Jordan has ever met in her lifetime (and those she hasn’t) has called to confirm the news. I scroll through the notifications. Nicky’s only called once. It’s more ominous than calling a thousand times. He’s not happy. And he knows we know he’s not happy. Jordan’s brother doesn’t need to call a thousand times to reinforce that fact. Just once will do.

Jordan wanted us to sit on the news until she could tell him in person. I just blew that right out of the water. Speaking to Nicky is the least I can do. “Sure, I’ll talk to him.”

Her brows rise. “Just like that?”

“We’re not in shooting distance, so it should be fine. Really,” I reassure her. “It’s better this way.”

Jordan’s bottom lip quivers. We’ve hurt her brother by hiding the news. Possibly hurt all our friends. I pull her close toward me, heedless of my dirty, sweaty body and everyone else around us. “I’ll just tell him that sometimes two people are meant to be.”

Her nostrils flare in a frustrated huff. “That’s it?”

I run my thumb along her cheek. My eyes follow the path before flicking up to meet hers. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Eventually the locker room clears. Jordan’s gone home to change. A big night of celebration looms. Eddie swipes his bag up off the ground and gives me a fist bump. “See you back at the house?”