“I do,” she whispered, eyes fluttering shut as she gave in. His arms came around her, firm and protective, and she melted into him, the needles forgotten entirely.
CHAPTER 27
TATE
Time seemedto pass in the strangest, most beautiful ways lately. Tate couldn’t explain it—not fully. Days used to blur together, marked by early-morning practices, endless flights, and the occasional hollow victory that didn’t feel like much once the adrenaline wore off. But now? Now his world had rhythms, colors, and feelings that he hadn’t even realized had been missing.
He still had his weekly online meetings with Emil, and those were a kind of entertainment all their own. Emil was sharp, sarcastic, and more than a little passive-aggressive, but Tate had come to look forward to the older man’s wit. It kept him on his toes, reminded him not to take himself too seriously. Then there was Mulligan—the furred tyrant of his domain—who hissed and clawed like Tate had personally ruined his morning by existing. Yet the moment Nettie stepped through the door, that cat transformed into a shameless actor, all pitiful mews and needy eyes, until she scooped him up. Tate grumbled about it, of course, but secretly he loved watching her coo over the little menace that stole a corner of his heart.
And then, there was Nettie.
Who dominated the rest of his heart.
His soul.
Hiseverything.
They never said it out loud. They hadn’t whispered those three words, hadn’t tried to label what was happening between them. But the weight of it hung there—warm, steady, undeniable. He texted her the weirdest of things and always picked up a little something for her while at away games – everything from her favorite candy to a sweatshirt, to cheese-flavored popcorn in a tin. She was always on his mind and knew the feeling was mutual.
Tate knew it every time she texted him something ridiculous just to make him laugh while he was stuck on the road, every time she sent him one of those candid selfies, hair messy, smile crooked, eyes glowing in a way that made him ache. He had a folder on his phone filled only with her—his own private treasure chest of memories.
Sometimes, if their schedules aligned, they’d steal a late-night dinner at Cracker Barrel, just the two of them tucked into a corner table near the fireplace, playing that little peg game and talking. Sometimes she came to his games, the loudest, proudest cheerleader in the stands—and yet somehow still managed to keep their relationship private.
Nettie never once told Gina or Shannon any details of what was going on in their relationship. Friendship was public, relationships were not - and Tate respected her for that belief. Gina didn’t pry either, though he suspected she knew more than she let on. His sister seemed content to watch from the sidelines with a firm eye on the goal… eh, goalie. Everyone seemed content to give them space, allowing them to be caught up in their own world full of fairytale wishes.
Justin, though— Justin knew, and things were almost uncomfortable. Tate caught the way the man looked at him sometimes, how quickly he’d turn away like he’d been caughtwith a guilty secret. Yeah, he didn’t care if the guy was interested in his sister or not – that was Gina’s business, but those secrets had a way of coming to life when you least expected it. That had led to one very blunt locker room conversation between the two men:
“If you break her heart, I’ll break your face—other than that, keep it to yourself.”
The rule was simple.
Relationships were between two people, not three, and certainly not the whole team, his family, or anyone else. Still, things had been so good lately it felt almost strangely wonderful.
Just last night, Nettie had come over to bake cookies with him for Christmas. Tate hadn’t known it was possible to laugh that hard at something so ordinary. Flour streaked across her cheek, her tongue poking out as she tried to roll dough evenly, her giggle bubbling over when he purposely stole a Hershey’s Kiss just to watch her swat at him. They pressed thumbprints, smashed candy canes before sprinkling them onto dough, and used Jolly Rancher candies to make stained-glass cookies.
They had one mild argument over whether too many nonpareils werea thing, and the question remained unanswered as he silenced her with a kiss. That seemed to be the best solution to any argument in his opinion… and Nettie didn’t seem to mind.
Once they’d finished baking cookies and they were cooling, Nettie had tenderly wrapped scarf after scarf, hat after hat, mittens for the children at her daycare. Watching her pour herself so fully into giving—to those kids, to his team, to him—it carved something deep and warm inside his chest.
And he still hadn’t taken her on a real, official date.
Soon,he promised himself, smiling at the thought as he shifted the heavy totes of cookies in his arms. He balanced them carefully while striding down the long hallway toward the lockerroom, the muffled sounds of chatter and clanging gear growing louder. Nettie had asked him to bring these for the team, her way of cheering them on, and the gesture was so sweet it almost undid him.
She deserved more than cookies and stolen kisses.
She deserved something unforgettable.
The door swung open just as he reached it. “Hey, everyone,” Tate said, nodding gratefully as Thierry caught the door for him. “Thanks, man… I brought some treats for everyone.”
“I see that.”
“As Batiste would say, ‘un biscuit?’” Tate teased, grinning as Batiste immediately shot his hand into the air, grinning ear to ear.
“C’est moi! C’est moi!”Batiste crowed, sending the room into laughter.
“They’re not biscuits, but theyareutterly delicious,” Tate continued, prying off the lids of the containers. Rows and rows of cookies appeared, frosted in reds, greens, whites, glittering with sugar crystals, candy windows catching the light. Nettie’s care and effort seemed to fill the whole room. Clearing his throat, he added almost shyly, “I need to take a photo of us for my girl… if you guys don’t mind?”
“Love to,” Thierry said warmly, clapping him on the back.
