Page 35 of Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend (Catching Feelings #1)

“Because she’s smiling when she says it. Even more than smiling. She’s glowing. I haven’t seen this Kayla in … in years,” he says, his voice choking up as he gets visibly emotional. And because we’re talking about my favorite subject—making Kayla happy—tears well in my eyes to match his.

He pauses, clearing his throat. “Son, you admitted to not knowing something. That’s the sign of a real man. But I wouldn’t care if you didn’t make her so happy. Any man who can make my little girl happy makes me happy.”

“That’s all I want,” I say honestly. “Since the moment I met her, I wanted to make her smile. I think I was addicted to it after our first conversation.”

He looks at me seriously. “It won’t all be laughs.

Marriage is hard. You two won’t have money problems, but too much money is a problem of its own.

Kayla has struggled with the image others have of her since she was just a kid.

I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t see it until it was almost too late. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

I pause. My heart slams into my chest, aching for her. “Her eating disorder.”

“We didn’t notice. She learned how to wear the right clothes to hide it from us.

But when Jolene had a feeling to go into her room unannounced …

” Lawson’s voice stops, like he physically can’t go on.

He sniffs and blinks his misty eyes. “She took to treatment beautifully, and I thank God for that every day. But those signs of perfectionism have never gone away. Aldridge was a reflection of that. She didn’t choose him out of love.

She chose him because of what he represented. ”

“Which was?” I ask, even though I think I know.

“Acceptance. Security. Not the financial kind, but the emotional kind. Being with him made knowing how to present herself easy. Being with you?—”

“Does the opposite.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I think being with you is letting her live her life—not perform it. And son, that might be the first time she’s ever felt that kind of freedom.”

It’s my turn to get too choked up to respond.

“Do you love my daughter?”

“Yes.” I haven’t even told Kayla that, but it’s a truth, fixed and eternal. My feelings for Kayla have eclipsed what I’ve ever felt for anyone.

“She cares deeply, and she hurts deeply, too. Do you think you can protect a heart that carries burdens like hers?”

I set down the knife. “I don’t know. I don’t want to just protect her from the heavy stuff. I want to make her strong enough that the weight doesn’t crush her. And then I want to carry whatever I can, too, not because she needs it, but because I love her too much to let her do it alone.”

Lawson’s eyes hold mine. Then he chuckles. “Well, shoot. Maybe she wasn’t exaggerating at all.”

I take up my knife again with a smile. The meat’s juices hiss as I slice, steam curling upward like it can finally exhale.

I know the feeling.

Upstairs, I hear Kayla’s brothers hooting and yelling through the open window. Their football hits the light pole with a thunk. Gray curses, while Hunter yells like it was the shot that robbed them of making the playoffs. It’s chaotic, loud, and stupidly endearing.

A few minutes later, Lawson and I are back inside. Jolene and Kayla are happily making sweet tea in the kitchen. And Kayla’s brothers have moved to the couches and are tossing the football to each other as they sit.

This place used to feel just right for me, for my lifestyle.

Now, it’s bursting at the seams. I like the sight of it, but I wonder if it makes us look temporary to Kayla’s mom and brothers.

I don’t want them to associate anything about me with temporary.

I place the meat tray on the counter and smile when Kayla sees me. She pads the few steps across the floor and puts her arm around my waist, leaning in.

“Smells good, Cap.”

I kiss the side of her head and hold my lips there. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Everyone likes what they see,” she mutters.

“They haven’t seen anything. I’ve been outside with your dad.”

“They’ve seen me,” she says softly. Then, with her family present, with her brothers and dad only feet away, she gets on her toes and kisses me. It’s quick, but it doesn’t feel fake or forced.

It feels right.

I love you , I want to say. The words are practically jumping out of my mouth. I don’t want to do anything for show—I just want to hold her close. But will she think it’s for them or will she know it’s for her?

I kiss her head again. She smells like milk and honey. Like comfort. Like home.

“You two are gross,” Hunter says.

“Your face is gross,” Kayla says, still leaning in. “Now who wants to say grace?”

Dinner goes better than I hoped. Kayla’s brothers aren’t overbearing or overly protective, but they are invested in her life. And that means, they’re invested in me.

They pepper me with questions about hockey. They have a passing interest in the sport, but the same way all guys do who grew up watching ESPN highlights reels.

“If you make the team next year,” Gray says, “we’ll get a box. We’ll be there every game.”

“Maybe not every game,” Lawson says. “You do have jobs.”

“Our boss is the worst,” Gray says in an exaggerated whisper from his spot on the couch. “Always harping on us to ‘get to work’ and ‘stop playing around.’”

“Such a drag,” Hunter agrees.

“I could always stop paying your checks,” Lawson says.

“On second thought, he’s a really good boss,” Hunter says.

Gray chimes in. “And he still has all his hair, which is impressive in this economy.”

We all snort at that.

After dinner, I gather up the trash while Kayla and Wes clean up. I’m on my way out to the garbage bins when I get a call.

From Otto.

My pulse spikes as I answer. “Hey, Otto.”

“It’s time, Sean,” he says in his lightly accented voice.

“I know we talked about you having a physical, but management wants a closer look. We have a three week development camp starting Monday. You’re one of only a handful being invited.

If you show up sharp and healthy, you’ll have a three-year contract waiting for you. ”

“Three years?” I drop the bag in the bin.

“You impressed a lot of people during the playoffs. Keep impressing us.”

“I’ll do my best. Thanks, Otto.”

Otto’s offer shouldn’t make my stomach churn.

It shouldn’t fill me with uncertainty or doubt. But I’m not twenty-one anymore. I’ve got roots starting to form. A woman I’ve fallen for. A life that’s not built around hotel rooms, buses, and protein shakes.

Still. This has been the dream since I first strapped on a pair of skates.

Why aren’t I happier about it?

I’m dialing another number before I can even think. You’d think it would be my brother. Heck, I think it should be my brother.

But for some reason, I call Fletch.

“What’s up, Sean?”

“The Arsenal wants me to come in for a prospect camp. Starts Monday. If I do well, they’ll offer me a three-year contract.”

“Awesome. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

Fletch waits for me to say something else. Then, “Sean, why are you calling me? Are you worried about what happens if it doesn’t work out?”

I pause. “No. I think I’m worried about what happens if it does.”

“I’m the wrong guy to ask about that, brother. I’d kill to be in your position.”

“Is life really so bad without baseball?”

Fletch breathes a heavy sigh. “It’s not just life without baseball.

It’s life without a purpose. Baseball was my whole life for my whole life.

My grandpa played until the draft and never played again.

My dad was a walk-on in college. It didn’t pan out.

My younger brother was an absolute beast. He’s the best player I’ve ever seen. Future Hall-of-Famer.”

Fletch has given me glimpses of his brother’s story, but he’s never told me the whole thing before.

“He got in a bar fight the night after the draft. He was the first pick of the first round and went out with friends to celebrate,” Fletch says, his voice sounding like an exposed nerve. “It was one punch. Some guy sucker-punched him, and he hit the pavement headfirst. TBI.”

I go still, heart clenching.

“He lived. He’s not in a hospital bed or anything. But it changed everything. He gets headaches and dizzy spells all the time. He doesn’t process stress the same way anymore, either. And baseball? Gone. Totally off the table.”

“Man,” I say quietly.

“The guy got probation. Community service. Said it was just one punch. Said he didn’t mean to hurt anyone. And the judge bought it.”

He pauses, then adds in a voice that burns: “I was supposed to be the one who made it for all of us.”

“And you got injured.”

“Yup.”

My heart feels like it’s bleeding for him. “I’m sorry, Fletch.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. Take the chance. It’s probably your last one.”

“What about Kayla?”

“What about her? She’s tough and smart. She can handle being a sports wife. She can travel whenever and wherever she wants.”

“What if she doesn’t want to travel?”

“Then I guess you two will figure that out. Or you won’t.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I say.

“You have that little faith in the woman you married?”

“It’s not that—” I start, but Fletch isn’t done.

“What are you looking for, Sean? Want me to say you don’t need hockey to be happy? I can’t. I haven’t been happy since my career ended.”

“Were you happy before that?”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment. “I didn’t call you, brother. You called me. You want to let your fears get in the way of your dreams? More power to you.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

”You’re fine.” He huffs. “Do what you want. But make sure you actually want it.”

Make sure you actually want it.

I want this chance. I do. But do I want that more than I want Kayla?

Not even close.

We have momentum. We’re building something. I don’t want to get in the way of that. Is there a chance that even these three weeks could slow that down? And if so, will an entire season have us screeching to a halt, ending before we could really begin?

When I get back upstairs, I try to wipe the worry from my brow. Kayla’s family is talking while her brothers are flipping from baseball game to baseball game. When a Chicago Firebirds game appears, Kayla stops them.

“Hey! That’s my friend’s team!” Kayla says.

“Yeah, Barry’s the owner,” her dad says.

“No, I mean my friend Liesel—she’s a sports analytics manager for the team, and she’s the Fischer brothers’ sister! She’s dating Cooper Kellogg.” Kayla turns to me, grinning. “We should fly up to Chicago and see a game. You’d love them. Coop is hilarious, and Liesel is the best. You in?” she asks.

“We’ll check the calendar,” I say, because I can’t have the conversation I need to have in front of her family.

Her brow shows her confusion, but I just smile at her, hoping it looks real.

“It’s getting late,” her mom says. “We should leave you two alone.”

“About that,” Wes says. “The farm is killing my allergies. Any chance I could crash on your couch?”

Kayla’s eyes fly to mine.

The couch is still my bed.

“No problem,” I say, already mentally making a bed on the floor in the bedroom.

“Just don’t knock if you have a nightmare,” Kayla says, recovering just as quickly. “You won’t like what you see.”

“Whoa!” Wes says, wrinkling his face. “That was over the line. I never realized how disgusting you were when you’re in love.”

“Because we’ve never seen her in love,” Gray says. “Did you see her toenail polish is chipped? Can you imagine her letting her pedicure chip with Aldridge?”

Every word should be a balm for me, but instead, it’s a bruise.

Kayla gives everyone a hug before she shoos them out. “Enough. I love you all. See you at Tripp and Jane’s tomorrow.”

When she’s pushed them out the door, she turns to me with a tight—but thoroughly amused—smile. “Well, Cap. Do you know where the spare sheets are?”

“Come to think of it, I do.”

“Why are you two being so weird?” Wes asks.

“Maybe we are weird,” Kayla says.

“Gray was right. Love is disgusting on you.”

Wes grabs his duffel bag from the floor and ducks into the bathroom. I turn to Kayla, a hurricane forming in my chest.

“So,” I say. “You mind me sleeping on the floor next to you?”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Cap, if you think I’m letting you wreck your back on the floor while I sprawl in comfort, you’ve forgotten who you married.”

There’s no use fighting. “Okay. But do you snore?”

“Like a whispering angel,” she says.

She disappears into the bedroom, and I follow, heart thudding like I’m skating into overtime.

It’s nothing. So you’re sharing a bed with your wife for the first time.

No big deal.