Hapless (4 page)

“We’ll get that one back, boys. We’ll get it back.”

Ty reached over and squeezed Micah’s shoulder.

A few seconds later, the Hurricanes scored again.

Then again.

And again.

It was possibly the most painful twenty minutes of hockey in the history of the game.

Ty was in a nightmare. That was the only explanation. He was living out a nightmare where he would never be engaged. Ever.

At the end of the first period, the Hurricanes had scored four and the Caps had only taken a few shots.

Micah’s eagerness was gone. His team spirit was in the gutter.

This was not going well.

“Are you hungry?” Ty asked as the Zamboni cleared the ice. “Thirsty? Need the bathroom? Ready to leave?”

Micah shot him a dark look at that.

Fuck
.

Crossing his arms, Micah slouched in his seat and glared at the world underneath his knit hat.

And this, ladies and gentleman, was not the story Ty wanted to tell his children. And during the second period, when the Hurricanes slapped another shot into the back of the net and Micah’s face clouded over like a sullen child’s, Ty had the sudden and horrible thought that if he tried to propose within the next fifteen minutes, Micah might say no.

Terror seized in his chest.

Why had he never thought of that? Ty hadn’t considered Micah might say no. It was always a yes. But fuck, if the Caps didn’t do something to…. Okay, there was literally nothing they could do at this point to salvage the game or the proposal.

Ty took a stuttered breath, the cold air of the arena biting into his lungs.

He had to get that proposal from going up on the board. Soon. Like right the fuck now because the second period was going faster than the miserable first.

“I’m going to the restroom,” Ty said in Micah’s ear. “I’ll be right back.”

Micah shrugged.

Ty stood and started to crawl over the other people in the row at a controlled, frantic pace. Once near the end, the aisle within a step, he caught his foot on the edge of the last chair and tripped. Ty went down hard, landing on his arm and his hip. It hurt, and there was no doubt it would bruise, but it wasn’t anything serious.

“Ty!” Micah cried, jumping to his feet. The other spectators moved out of his way, and Micah dropped to his knees by Ty’s side.

Ty lay sprawled across the stadium steps, embarrassed, hip and arm throbbing but not really injured. He had more concerns, like the fact that “Will You Marry Me, Micah” was about to flash across the scoreboard, and he had no way to stop it.

Except Micah stared at him with obvious concern and brushed Ty’s hair away from his forehead.

“Shit, Ty. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Ty licked his lips. He might have no real interest in hockey, but that didn’t mean Micah hadn’t forced him to watch the Mighty Ducks a thousand times over. And this was the perfect time to fake an injury.

“Actually, Micah. I think I may have hurt myself.”

Micah’s eyes widened and he bit his lip. “Okay, maybe you shouldn’t move.”

Fuck
.

“Uh….” Ty’s mouth flopped open while his thoughts whirred. “Well, uh, it’s not that bad. Help me up.”

“I really don’t think you should….”

“Help me up, Micah,” Ty said, voice tight. “I still have to… you know.” He jerked his head toward the exit. “I’m already embarrassed, if you get my drift.”

“
Oh
,” Micah said. “Yeah. Let’s get you up, then.”

With the help of a few other fans, Ty got to his feet. He leaned on Micah, and it wasn’t all fake because his hip did hurt. The ring box had dug right into the joint, and there was going to be a spectacular bruise.

They limped up the stairs and out of the stadium just as the horn for the end of the second period blew.

Ty sighed in relief.

Micah guided him to the bathroom, and Ty had a moment of
oh, he really does love me
when Micah steadied him at the urinal so he could piss. The thought made him ache in ways unrelated to the fall. He had a vision of them together as old men with gray hair and walkers, helping each other out of their rocking chairs.

“I love you,” Ty blurted when they washed their hands.

Micah cocked his head to the side, lips turned up slightly at the corners. “Did you hit your head?”

“Ass,” Ty replied, chuckling.

Micah laughed, the first sign of happiness since the Hurricanes’ first goal. “You love it, apparently.”

“I don’t know why.”

Micah kissed Ty as best as he could while grinning. “Come on, clumsy. Let’s go home. And I’ll check your bruises.”

“Will you kiss them and make them better?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a boyfriend if I didn’t.”

They hailed a cab and Ty gingerly slid into the seat.

“I am sorry about tonight,” Micah said, pouting. He draped his arm across the back of the cab and allowed Ty to snuggle into his side. “What a bad game, and then you fell. The only way it could get worse would be if the cab suddenly—”

Ty placed his palm over Micah’s mouth. “Don’t,” he said. “Just don’t even.”

Micah kissed Ty’s fingers and grinned. “What? Not up for tempting fate?”

“Definitely not tonight.”

Micah burst into a laugh, head falling back against the seat rest. The Christmas lights they passed cast colors over his skin, highlighting the slope of his nose and the pout of his lips. His wild hair fell across his forehead and his throat bobbed, the slender column of his neck awash in reds, greens, and blues.

Ty’s mouth went dry, and despite the throb in his hip and the ring still in his pocket, Ty couldn’t count the night as a loss.

T
EN
DAYS
left and the ring sat snugly in the sock drawer.

Ty finished editing the romance about the stranded heiress and the jungle man and started the one about the pirate queen and her captive cabin boy who was secretly royalty. He felt like a hypocrite making suggestions about romance on the high seas when his own was making him just plain seasick.

Pulling out his phone, Ty thumbed over the contact listing for Bronwyn and considered calling her for ideas. Then he wondered about how pathetic he would be asking an eighteen-year-old girl for tips on how to woo her brother.

Would it be creepy? Would Ty turn into
that guy?
The one no one wanted to sit next to at parties? Was that really something he should be worrying about when his future happiness was at stake? Speaking of steak, should they have that for dinner?

Ty didn’t get much time to monologue internally. His phone rang, the annoying tinny strands of “The Little Drummer Boy” breaking the quiet of the apartment.

And of course it was Bronwyn.

“Hello?”

“My brother has nothing important to tell me.”

As seemed to be the norm, Ty had no clue what she was talking about. “What?”

“I called him and asked him if he had anything awesome to tell me, and you want to know what his response was?”

“Not really.”

“That, oh yeah, he’s thinking of finally upgrading to an Xbox One.”

“That’s good to know.”

Bronwyn made a frustrated noise. “What happened? I thought I was going to be maid of honor.”

Ty pushed away from his laptop and walked around the room. “It fell apart.”

“Well, just do it on Christmas Eve, then.”

“No. I refuse.”

“What’s wrong with Christmas Eve? It’d be romantic.”

Ty took another lap around the room. “Not happening,” he gritted out. “It’s not what I want.”

There was a beat of silence, then a loud sigh. “What about what I want? Huh? I want my brother to marry you and adopt babies and be happy.”

“You don’t think I want that too? But no, I need another plan. Something else.”

“Uh… a horse-drawn carriage ride around The Mall? You can check out the big-ass National Christmas Tree. He’d love that, you know.”

Ty stopped his manic pacing. “Oh, holy shit, Winnie. You’re absolutely right.”

“Aw, you used Micah’s stupid nickname for me. We are totally going to be the best siblings-in-law ever.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. This could go astoundingly wrong just like the other times.”

“Times?” Bronwyn said. “As in plural? Wait a minute, how many times have you tried so far?”

Ty opened his mouth and paused, unwilling to speak the number of failed attempts aloud. So he hung up instead.

“Y
OU
’
RE
SPOILING
me,” Micah said, wrapped up in his coat and scarf, his ridiculous rainbow hat on his head, black wisps of hair sticking out over his forehead. “Is this some kind of twelve days of Christmas present thing you’re doing that you haven’t let me in on?”

Ty rocked back on his heels. “Maybe.”

“It’s not, is it? Because if it is, then I’m going to have to go back to the drawing board for your present. It’s not nearly as awesome as a dinner at Jack’s, a hockey game, and whatever is the reason we’re standing in front of L’Enfant Plaza Metro station.”

Ty brimmed with happiness and pressed a kiss to Micah’s mouth. “Just wait.”

“You’ve been so weird lately. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Micah pushed Ty’s brown hair out of his eyes. His fingers were chilly against Ty’s skin. “You’ve been vacillating between sullen and ecstatic since Thanksgiving. What gives?”

Maybe a few weeks ago, Ty would have panicked at the question. But panicking had not worked for him thus far. Tonight he was just going to be calm and laugh. He was going to be Zen. Completely chill. Frigid. Like a relaxed gay penguin.

Micah raised an eyebrow.

“What is going on in your head?”

“Nothing.” Ty smiled as the sound of hooves on pavement neared. “Hey, our ride is here.”

Micah turned and let out a sound Ty could only classify as a dolphin noise. He spun around and grabbed Ty’s lapels. “A carriage ride? You seriously booked us a carriage ride?”

Micah’s smile was so wide he looked manic. He reeled Ty in for a bruising kiss, lips cold but inviting, needy, and ecstatic, pulling Ty forward and down into an awkward position. Micah pulled away when Ty stumbled, but kept him close and whispered hotly in Ty’s ear. “We are having so much sex when we get home.”

Ty flushed as the timber of Micah’s voice, deep and full of promise, sent a shiver through his frame. “How about we go for the ride first?”

Grinning, Micah boarded the open-air carriage while Ty talked with the driver. Ty confirmed the route, ensuring it would take them by the National Christmas Tree and pause there. That would be the moment Ty would propose. With a giddy sense of relief, Ty climbed into the carriage.

“There’s a blanket to use for your comfort and warmth,” the driver said, turning around. “And we’ll stop on The Mall for hot cocoa. And if you need anything, just let me know. My name is Ed, and Buttercup is your equine guide for the evening.”

“Thank you, Ed and Buttercup,” Micah shouted, burrowing into Ty’s side. He draped the thick blanket over them and snuggled down as the carriage lurched forward. “Look at all the envious tourists,” Micah said, his breath puffing into a cloud. “They wish they had a man who arranged carriage rides.”

“Well, you are the prettiest princess.”

Micah pretended offense for a moment, but then his expression slid into a coy smile. He batted his eyelashes and cupped his hands by his cheek. “You think I’m pretty?”

Laughing, Ty wrapped his hand in Micah’s scarf and pulled him close. “The prettiest,” he confirmed before pressing his lips to Micah’s flirty pout.

They kissed and kissed, and Ty didn’t care they missed half the sights because Micah’s mouth was warm and inviting and he nimbly teased Ty underneath the blanket, slipping his fingers underneath Ty’s sweater to play along his sides. Micah tilted his head back, offering, succumbing because the little shit knew it was one of Ty’s favorite things when his wild, relentless boyfriend
gave in
. Amped up, pulse thrumming, and dick hard in his jeans, Ty devoured Micah’s mouth, uncaring of the spectators. What did they matter? He was going to
marry
Micah. They were going to be engaged in only a few minutes.

Ty scraped his teeth over Micah’s bottom lip, earning a throaty moan, and valiantly tried to ignore the tickle in his throat.

He couldn’t.

Pulling back, Ty dropped his head and coughed into Micah’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said, throat tight. “Where were we?”

“Um… Ty?” Micah softly touched Ty’s cheek. “Your eyes are puffy and red and… watering.”

Ty blinked and liquid spilled down his cheeks. He scrubbed his sleeve over his face and sneezed—violently.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Micah said softly. “Are you okay?”

Ty rubbed his nose, suddenly stuffy. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sneeze.

“It must be the cold.”

Sneeze. Itch. Water.

“Or maybe I’m coming down with—”
Itch. Sneeze.
“Something.”
Itch. Cough. Sneeze.

What the fuck?

Micah glanced at him, concern furrowing his brow. Then he looked down at the blanket they were romantically bundled in, and with his pinched fingers, pulled out a long orange hair.

Oh no.

“Um… sir?” Micah called to the driver. “Ed?”

“Yes, young man?”

“This blanket wouldn’t have come in contact with a cat, would it?”

“Possibly. We have a very friendly barn cat in the stables. He’s a friend to the horses and loves to lie on the equipment. In fact….”

Ty gave into a sneezing fit that lasted a full minute and drowned out Ed’s explanation.

Ty pulled on his collar, his throat scratchy and his nose beginning to run.

“I think I might be having—”
Sneeze
. “—a reaction.”

“Yeah, baby. I think so.” Micah kicked off the blanket and allowed it to fall to the bottom of the carriage. He petted the back of Ty’s head, fingers carding through his hair, massaging the base of his neck. “We need to get you a couple of Benadryl.”