“I know!” Relief floods me—at least one person in my life still seems sane—and my voice pitches higher. “I can’t do that, but then what? I know nobody.”
“I could help you.”
I blink, taking a hot minute to register what he just offered.Did he seriously volunteer to date me?My heart squeezes as I hang on the softness in his gaze, while my stomach plummets at the memory of my mom’s warning. “Ah, actually, even if you wanted to, you can’t, because my mom said, ‘no hockey guys.’”
“Seriously? That’s messed up.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Ah, I guess if it can’t be me, I could probably help you find someone. I mean, I know people. Guys who are better than Brett,” he adds quickly. “I can help you find someone. You know, to make sure he’s not a creep.”
My heart stumbles.
What is this even turning into?
First my mom pimping me out, and now Tyson offering to set me up.
That is fatal.
Upstairs footfalls echo down the hall. By the pacing, I know it’s my mom coming after me. I can’t argue with her anymore. My heart slams against my chest as I stare back at Ty. Working with him has to be better than fake-dating Brett. “If you think you can find someone before the parade, I’m in,” I rush out, marking my agreement with a deep swallow.
Why does this feel like the worst deal ever?
seven
Tyson
Oh,Ididn’tjustdo that!
My brain is bleeding!
That’s surely the problem with why I just did that.Pressing a hand to my forehead, I apply pressure to the pain. I scurry out the front door, intent on leaving this conversation behind. That’s what I get for needing to use the restroom. I had to go at the exact moment Lottie was barreling down the stairs, looking like she was about to cry. My heart pounds like I just finished running a mile instead of having a very stupid conversation I had no business being a part of.
I could help you find someone to date!
What the actual—
Who does that?
I know who does that.
A guy who doesn’t have the nerve to ask the girl out himself.
What is wrong with me?
I scrub my hand over my face. It’s my turn to nearly run into someone as I storm across the porch on my way to the pasture.
Perfect.
It’s just what I need.
A witness to my unraveling.
Ham halts mid-step and squints at me. “Bruh, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I wish it was a ghost. I’d much rather be scared right now than mad at myself.”
He falls into step beside me as I stride at top speed away from that house. “What’s going on? Did my mom give you a hard time? She’s been a mess lately.”
“No, not your mother.” I let out a very manly exhale. “Not directly anyway. More like your sister.”
“Lottie?”
