Page 39

As soon as I step onto the bus, I’m assaulted by the smell of stale sweat and cheap cologne that usually doesn’t faze me. But today? Today it makes me want to turn around and walk straight back to her.

Fuck.

All I want is Savannah’s scent wrapped around me. Sweet and addictive, I can vividly remember the smell of her shampoo lingering on my pillow and the way it feels to wake up next to her.

I’ve tasted her, kissed her until we were both breathless. Had her trembling and coming apart under my hands. I’ve seen that shy, devastating smile that’s mine and mine alone, and I’m already hungry for more.

More mornings with her hair spilled across my sheets. More stolen kisses. More laughter. More of her filling up every corner of my lonely life.

I’m completely fucked, aren’t I?

I’m past the point of no return and happily walking down the narrow aisle of this bus knowing she’s the prize I’m coming home to after this game.

I should be strategizing slap shots and defensive plays, mentally preparing to annihilate those cocky bastards. But my brain has other plans.

I tap each headrest as I pass, counting seats to keep my obsessive thoughts from spiraling completely out of control.

Most of the guys have found their seats already.

Their bags are thrown haphazardly across the aisle, and they stretch out like they own the place.

Near the back, Dash is sitting alone, his duffel bag sprawled on the empty seat beside him like a giant “stay the hell away” sign.

Perfect.

Just the man I need to see.

He doesn't glance up from his phone when I stop beside his seat, so I nudge his duffel with my knee. He grumbles something unintelligible but keeps his eyes glued to the screen like I'm invisible.

“Move your shit, asshole.”

That gets his attention. Dash finally looks up, one eyebrow raised in that trademark expression that says he's already annoyed and I haven't even sat down yet.

“There are literally twelve other empty seats on this bus.”

“Yeah, but none of them have my best friend's ugly face attached to them.” I gesture to his bag. “Move it or I'm sitting on it.”

Dash quickly pockets his phone and silently stuffs the bag under the seat in front of him. He shifts awkwardly, probably feeling guilty for texting Madison instead of giving me any attention.

Honestly, he needs to get over that because I’ve got an important question for him.

A question that’ll prove, once and for all, I’m done being a possessive dick about him dating my sister.

I glance around the bus, trying to calm my nerves. Our friends are all around us. Scotty’s sitting with Erik, engaged in their usual back-and-forth bickering, while Brooks and Alex are in a deep conversation about something that probably isn’t as serious as they’re making it look.

“You feeling okay, C?” Dash asks, confusion clear in his voice most likely because I chose to willingly sit next to him.

I flash him a casual grin, hoping it masks the unease bubbling inside me. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He raises a skeptical brow. “Do I really need to spell it out?” I don’t answer, making him sigh heavily.

“You’ve barely said a word to me for the past couple of months.

You claim we’re cool back at the hotel, then the next minute you’re slamming a puck at my balls during practice.

To say you’re giving mixed signals is putting it mildly.

” He clears his throat, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Apparently, that’s a Bright family trait. ”

“That reminds me,” I say casually. “How are your nuts?”

The question alone makes Dash stop. “I hate you,” he says, leaning forward so his head rests against the chair in front.

I grin. “No, you don’t. See, that’s the thing about us. We can get frustrated with each other. Maybe have a fight every now and again, but hate? That’s not possible.”

He answers with nothing but a grumble of annoyance as I pat him on the back.

“Come on. Are they still sore?”

He exhales slowly and rolls his head just enough that I can see his dark eyes narrowing at me in annoyance. “What do you think?”

I glance down at my own jean-covered nut sack and consider the question. “I think getting hit in the balls with a puck probably isn’t great for your future offspring.”

Another grumble, to which I lean forward and talk into the space between Dash’s head and crotch.

“I’m sorry future nieces or nephews. Your uncle Cade didn’t mean it. I promise when you’re out in the world and thriving, I’ll take good care of you.”

“Are you talking to Dash’s balls?” Erik asks, pushing himself up from the seat in front. Great. Just what I need. An audience. I wanted to ask Dash this question without anyone else listening.

“No,” Dash says, resting back on the chair and covering his crotch with his hand.

I look at Erik. “I was merely apologizing for all the foul play and promising it won’t happen again.”

“Will you leave them alone?” Scotty says, glaring at Erik. “They’re trying to talk for once.”

Erik looks to the side and laughs. “Come on, you can’t expect me not to question things. These two have so much tension and your nicey nice approach hasn’t worked at making them up, so maybe we need to be more forceful.”

Scotty grumbles, and all I see is the shake of his head in front of me.

“You mean like the way you were with Scotty and that girl he was interested in?” Alex pipes up next to Brooks.

Erik rolls his eyes. “Am I ever going to live that down? I made a huge mistake one time and even apologized for it, but it’s never enough.”

“One mistake?” Alex says. “Did you forget about your freaky-ass nutcrackers that you refuse to get rid of?”

“They’re in my room, not bothering you, A. You need to get over it.”

“They freak me and everyone else in the dorm the hell out.”

“Come on.” Scotty grabs Erik by the shoulder, pulling him back down in his seat, leaving Dash and me alone. In a little seat haven, if that’s what you want to call it.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, my voice dropping to a more serious tone.

His head snaps to me, his brows furrowing. “To me?”

“Yes, to you. You said when we were out in Indiana that we were back to old times. Well, start acting like it. If this is old times, then you’re the only person I can come to with this.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Is this about Savannah?”

I nod. “I want you to be my best man.”

It takes Dash a few seconds to register my response. When he does, I’m met with the vacant, slightly disinterested glare. “For?”

“My wedding.”

Dash blinks. “That’s a little premature, don’t you think? She’s not even your girlfriend.”

“You’re right,” I say, leaning back with a smug grin. “I don’t have a girlfriend. She’s my fiancée. Savannah Barnett… Not that it’s her last name for long. It’ll be Bright soon enough.”

Dash stays quiet for a minute. He then looks around and leans over.

“Cade, I’m going to ask you this one time, and I hope you’ll give me your honest answer. Does she know she’s your fiancée?”

I bristle at the comment. “Yes. Funnily enough, she’s a willing participant,” I say. “I asked her yesterday. Then she thought about it and agreed to marry me all on her own.”

“Why would she do that?”

Before I can answer, Scotty pops up, turning to look at me. “Sorry to be a killjoy here, but did I just hear you say you were getting married ?”

As if on cue, Erik pops his head up, talking to Scotty. “Yes, he did. To that chick he likes, what’s her name again?”

Scotty scowls and rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“Savannah,” I say, in answer to Erik. I always knew asking Dash to be my best man would be complicated, but I didn’t realize just how many of the guys would get involved with it.

Henry pops his head into view from behind me. “Wait, are you talking about Savannah? You mean the Savannah. The girl who nearly got us killed at Behind Closed Doors ?”

“What are you talking about?” Scotty asks Henry.

“I followed Cade there, not knowing he was fi—I mean, interested in one of the girls. He tried to talk to her, and that’s when I came in, finding the bouncers beating the shit out of him in the alleyway next to the club.”

My brows furrow. “They were not beating the shit out of me.”

“You were lying on the ground, crying.”

“Henry,” I grit out. “I wasn’t crying.” Then I flit my hand in their direction. “Anyway, Scotty, Erik, you can be ushers if you want. Along with Brooks and Alex.” I tip my chin in the direction of our other two friends in case they’re listening.

“What about me?” Henry asks.

“You can be the ring bearer.”

“Ring bearer? That sounds like a demotion from usher.”

I look at my fresh-faced friend and point a glare in his direction. “Henry. I like you, but let’s not forget you screwed my sister over in high school. There’s no way I’m going to let you anywhere near walking her down the aisle.”

“Screwed?” Erik says with a laugh. “He definitely didn’t screw Madison. Wasn’t that the whole problem in their relationship in the first place?”

“Don’t take everything so literally, Steele,” Scotty pipes up.

Dash leans forward. “Wait, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

I meet his gaze. “I already told you I was. I asked her yesterday, and she thought about it and said yes.”

“How did you even get here?”

“Aww, D. Do you need the birds and the bees explained to you? Happy to help. Hell, I’m even willing to give you a live demonstration,” Erik says, and any kind of explanation around these guys is impossible. Dash and I need to have this conversation alone.

“I took Savannah out, and you know what they say? When you know, you know. What’s the point in waiting when I can have her forever now?” It’s the truth, but obviously there are a lot more complications behind it. Like the fact I’m not sure how serious Savannah thinks I am about her.