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Practice was excruciating. I took a hard hit from Vampire right in the nuts. Zac finally managed to go a whole practice without dropping a pass—now if he can just do it during a game. The scrums were on point. The rucks are getting there, and even our lineouts show promise. I’m a sweaty mass of bruises and sore muscles. In other words, it was the perfect practice.

Heading to my truck with the bag of balls hoisted over my shoulder, I hear Walt call out my name. By the time I turn around, he’s running to catch up with me.

“Hey, man, great practice,” he says, patting me on the back. “Your balls okay, bro?”

I throw the bag in the bed of my truck and shoot him a raised eyebrow. “They seem okay to me?” Then I realize he meant my balls, the ones between my legs. “Oh, yeah, they’re fine.” I laugh it off as his smile fades.

There’s something more serious on his mind. I’ve known Walt for what, three, four years now—however long we’ve been building this team. We’ve seen quite a few guys come and go over the seasons, but the core group has remained the same. He and I are the heart of this team. I feel like I’m almost too old for this shit, but I’m afraid if I let go, the team will just disintegrate. Walt feels the same way. We’re the glue holding this whole thing together.

“What’s up?” I notice he’s distracted for a moment, like he’s running through what he wants to say to me in his mind.

“How are things going for the carnival?”

“I need to call Megan and get an update.” I haven’t talked to her since I left her house the other night, and it’s been almost a week. Now that we’ve set a date and our fall season is underway, we don’t have a moment to spare. I also need to confirm details with Declan about the horse and carriage rides. I don’t want to talk to him either.

“Oh, yes, Megan…” Walt’s voice has a…dreamy…quality as he stares off toward the setting sun.

“What about her?” I snap, some sort of protective instinct kicking in—one I have absolutely zero control over.

“How would you feel if I asked her out on a date?” Walt crosses his arms over his chest and trains his gaze on me, his dark eyes shining in the deepening twilight.

My face doesn’t move a muscle. I just stand there, staring at him. Not saying a word.

“Did you go out with her before or something?” His voice takes on a bit of a nervous edge.

“It’s complicated.” I don’t really feel like rehashing all the memory bullshit that’s been rumbling through my mind since I was at her house and we looked at those old photos. The freckle-faced boy. The little girl with flying pigtails. The tiny footprints polka-dotting the sand.

“Complicated?” He punches me in the shoulder. “Come on, bro, it’s me. You’re not a complicated guy, Shark. Did you fuck her or what?”

I’m shocked at his language, and, though the answer is yes, I can no longer think of her that way. She’s Meggie. If I’d known she was Meggie two years ago, I doubt I ever would have done—that—with her. See? I can’t even bring myself to say the word. And that word is usually at the very top of my vocabulary list on any given day.

And it’s not because I’m disgusted. It’s not because I think of her like a sister. It’s because that decades-old promise keeps echoing in my mind. That promise to love her forever.

“Shark?” He’s more insistent now. And I’m not going to be able to leave without giving him an answer.

“Yeah, I did, but it was a long time ago.”

“Oh, okay.” He seems stumped for a moment, but then his face brightens, his lips curling up on the edges. “Wasn’t good?”

I roll my eyes. Not something I want to discuss. “It was good,” is all I say.

“So, yes, I can go out with her? Or no I can’t?” He sighs with exasperation. “I didn’t know this was going to be such a challenge. I thought I’d get your blessing, man. That you’d want to see her with a nice guy.”

“I do,” I assure him. And no one could be nicer than Walt. He’s a freaking veterinarian of all things. I mean, what could be more appealing to a woman than that? He’s well-spoken, intelligent, articulate, has a British accent, and he cares for animals in a professional capacity. He’s the type of guy who makes ovaries explode with desire.

“Then, we’re cool?”

I have no reason to tell him no. Not to mention that doing so might put a rift between us right when we need to be completely unified and carry this team through the season. If our season goes well—in both the PR and the competition departments—we’ll be considered by the league for moving up a division. That means we’d play tougher teams and have even more clout and respect in the league—and hopefully the community too.

“Yeah, man, that’s fine.” I force a smile. “I’m sure you guys will make a great couple.”

It isn’t up to me who Megan dates, anyway. Walt doesn’t need my blessing. It’s all up to Megan.

Then why does my heart feel like it’s sinking into the pit of my stomach?