Page 67
Less than a second later, Shane bursts into the security area, sprinting toward us. “Get them out of there!”
Shane once told me he doesn’t yell, and now I understand why—he’s borderline terrifying.
Still, the security guard holds his ground. “Sir, this woman had been here before, insisting on seeing you without credentials. We’re concerned that she might be a stalker.”
Shane rounds on him, his expression lethal. “She’s not a stalker. She’s my wife.”
“He just my-wifed her,” another player gasps, clutching his tennis necklace.
It’s then that I notice the whole team is behind Shane, shoulders heaving like they all raced here.
Delilah leans toward Adam, whispering, “I’m going to need you to my-wife me when we get home later.”
A different player puts his hands on his hips, his dark brows furrowing. “My wife? Is that from one of your books?”
“Oh my gosh, it’s Trevor Chapman.” Delilah rushes forward, hands clutching the bars.
My forehead pinches before I remember that Chapman is the name on both Adam’s and Delilah’s jerseys. The plan had been to buy myself a Seaver jersey to go over my tank, cut-offs, and trusty Doc Martins, but we’d been swooped up by security before we made it to the team store. Piper, meanwhile, is sporting an adorable Pascal-print shirt and pink shorts, not the least interested in sportsball.
“Mr. Chapman, sir,” Adam says, hiking Piper higher on his hip. “This is an honor. We’re huge fans.”
Shane all but shoves the security guard forward, hovering menacingly until he opens the cell door. While the rest of the team ambles forward to chat with a now free Delilah and Adam, Shane tugs me to his chest, pulling us to the side.
“Are you okay?” His words are whispered over my temple as one of his hands slides to grip the back of my neck.
I can hear Shane’s heart pounding against my ear, his breathing still ragged. A part of me knows I should crack a joke or make light of the situation, but I burrow deeper, letting Shane hold me like I’m something precious.
Being slightly inconvenienced by an overzealous security guard isn’t a life-or-death situation, but I’ve always been the good kid. I’ve never been sent to the principal’s office or been pulled over for speeding. Hearing the clank of the metal bars locking shut is a sound I’ll never forget.
Not trusting my voice, I nod, banding my arms around Shane’s waist.
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
His hands roam everywhere—over my back, my shoulders, my arms—almost as if he’s checking for broken bones again.
I lean back with a giggle when he accidentally tickles my ribs. “He didn’t touch me.”
Shane catches my gaze, his eyes thunderous. “Good thing, or he’d be a dead man.”
When my lips part with a surprised breath, Shane’s expression softens. Then his thumb traces my jaw, my temple, like he can’t stop searching for injuries.
“Really, I’m fine.”
His head shakes. “I don’t like you in this windowless room. You should be in the sunshine. I’m going to make sure you’re on the VIP list so this never happens again. Delilah, Adam, and Piper too. Next time, you’ll be escorted directly to the Waves family area. I’m sorry I didn’t do that already. I’m sorry”—a tendon pops in his jaw—“I’m sorry I failed you, Willow.”
My fingers slide up to band around his neck. “You didn’t fail me.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but Shane’s lips dive into a deeper frown.
“We’re going to laugh about this later.” I seal my promise with a cheesy grin. “You’re going to cackle harder than you did when that nutcracker was trying to make a move on you.”
When Shane’s hard expression doesn’t waver, I frame his face with my palm. “Trust me.”
After three halting seconds, he nods, gently gripping my wrist. Then my entire world narrows to a pinpoint when Shane kisses my palm and then settles my hand over his heart.
In the background, I’m vaguely aware of my overjoyed best friend yanking a permanent marker from her clear purse so the Waves lineup can sign her and Adam’s jerseys. There are exuberant selfies. Delilah shrieks when someone pushes their hat on her head. Even Piper looks like she’s having fun, bouncing from player to player for high fives.
But all I can see is Shane, his gaze more open and vulnerable than it’s ever been.
