Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)
Playbook: Epilogue

The club is packed, and I apologize to people as I weave through couples and groups to get to the bar. I scan the familiar space until I spot her.

“Hey, man.” A guy with dark, slicked-back hair, and shoulders broader than mine, steps in front of me. Something tickles in my brain. I can’t place him right away but I know I should. “You’re Brogan Six.”

“Yeah. That’s right. And you’re…” I reach out my hand and then it hits me. “Jack Wyld. Fuck, what are you doing in Arizona?”

“Just visiting,” he says as we shake hands. The man is a beast of a hockey player for the Wildcats in Minnesota. “You had a hell of a rookie season.”

My jaw drops and I want to pinch myself. Jack fucking Wyld knows who I am. What even is this life?

“Thank you. You too.”

“I’m just heading out to meet up with some friends, but it was really nice to meet you.” He smiles at me. “Good luck next year. Maybe take it a little easier on my Vikings though, huh?”

“Yeah, sure. If you take it easier on the Coyotes.”

Laughing, he walks off, and I shake my head to clear it. I just met one of the best hockey players of all time.

It’s almost as exciting as the other person I’m about to meet. I continue to the bar where a pretty brunette is sitting.

“Excuse me?” I say when I’m standing behind her.

She swivels in her chair and gives me a surprised look. “Hi.”

“Hey there, yourself. Can I buy you a drink?” I take in her long, slender legs and the low cut of her black dress. Her lips are painted a bright red that I plan to smudge just as soon as she lets me.

She cocks her head to the side. “Oh my gosh. Aren’t you Brogan Six?”

She says it a little louder than I expected. We’re doing a little role-play, recreating the night we first met—minus the leaving alone part. I rented out the VIP area in case she wants to fuck where we first met. That might be creepy instead of romantic. I’m not sure.

“I am. What’s your name?” I slide into the space between her and the person next to her. She already ordered us both drinks. I take a sip of my beer and rest my hip against the bar.

“London,” she says. “I am such a big fan.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh yeah. That catch you made on the ten-yard line in last week’s game against the Cowboys was incredible.”

“God, I love it when you talk football,” I whisper, breaking character. I can’t help it. Tripp spent the off-season teaching her football in exchange for her help picking out women on dating sites. He’s decided it’s time to settle down with a nice woman. He went on zero successful dates, but London’s got a real knack for remembering numbers and plays.

She blushes but then slips back into character. “Maybe we should get out of here, then. My place isn’t far.”

“I bet mine is closer.” I lift my brows suggestively. She moved in months ago, and waking up to her every morning is even better than I imagined it would be.

Outside, she nearly laughs at the sight of the limo. We slide into the back. Neither of us says anything for a solid five seconds, and then we both break at the same time, turning to each other and lunging for the other.

“Fuck, I missed you,” I say to her. It’s the start of the pre-season and we had a two-day road trip. It turns out forty-eight hours without her is my breaking point.

“Me too. I’m sorry. I planned to drag that out longer, but I couldn’t wait.”

“And I planned to fuck you in VIP, but this will work.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet.”

I chuckle into her mouth. Not creepy. So noted.

We make out in the back seat as the limo drives us to our next stop, which is sadly not our apartment. Not yet.

When the limo pulls up to the curb in front of my old mail place, I glide my hands out from under her skirt.

“Hey, look where we are,” I say, nodding toward the window. “We should stop by and get your mail.”

Despite it being kind of far from our place, she kept the PO Box for her work mail and comes by once a week or so. She says it’s a good excuse to swing by and see Alec. But I think it’s a sentimental place for her. Just like it is for me.

“You want to stop? Now?” she asks, then laughs like she thinks that’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.

“Yeah. I haven’t been in there in forever. It’ll be fun.” I scoot toward the door and open it before she can protest.

“It was more fun with your hand up my skirt,” she mumbles, and I have to fight a laugh.

Inside, I take her hand and we walk through the maze of tiny metal boxes until we get to hers. She pulls out the key and then I start to get nervous. What if it’s not here? What if I screwed this up?

She pulls out the mail and in it, the package from me. She grins knowingly when she sees the return name and address.

“This is why you wanted to stop? Did you mail me a pair of your boxers?” She grins and tears open the bubble mailer. She says nothing as she reaches in, but the second she pulls out the smaller box she freezes.

“What is this?” she asks, voice wavering.

I take it from her and flip it open, then turn so she can see.

“Are you crazy? You put this in the mail.” She gapes at the diamond nuzzled in the black velvet box.

“Not exactly.” I chuckle lightly. “I talked to a sweet lady named Beverly who works here, and she slipped it into your mailbox.”

“Beverly helped you do this?”

“Mhmmm. Real helpful lady.”

“Of course. For you she’s helpful,” London mutters under her breath.

I take the ring out and hold it between my thumb and pointer finger, then get down on one knee.

She shakes her head at me, but smiles. Tears glisten in her eyes. “This was in here all day?”

“A few hours. I had to keep you busy, so you didn’t swing by on your own and ruin my brilliant plan.”

“You never stop surprising me.”

She shouldn’t be surprised though. Doesn’t she know I’d do anything to make her happy?

Her gaze drops to the diamond ring sparkling under the overhead lights. “Oh my god, is this really happening?”

“It’s really happening, sweetheart.” It’s been almost a year since that first night at the bar where she told me off. I would have proposed months ago but she had this big project she’s working on for a book publisher, and I had camp and the start of the season. I wanted it to be perfect. She deserves that at the very least.

“For the first time in a really long time, I’ve felt what it’s like to have someone want and love me. I honestly never thought I’d have that outside of my brothers. And to have it from someone like you blows my mind every day. You’re good and kind and talented and sexy. So fucking sexy.”

Tears have started to fall down her cheeks, but she laughs at that.

“You always say you’re my biggest fan, but I’m yours too. No one inspires or encourages me more than you. Marry me, London? Let me spend the rest of my life supporting you in whatever you choose to do, cheering you on as loud and as often as I can, and loving you better than anyone has ever loved another person.”

My throat tightens as I think about all the things I want to say to her. I asked Hendrick for advice when I told my brothers I was going to propose, and he told me, keep it simple. I guess that’s not bad advice. After all, I’m going to have the rest of our lives to tell her how much she means to me. Hopefully.

“Yes, Brogan Six. I’ll marry you.”

I slide the ring on her finger and then she jumps in my arms, wrapping herself around me and holding on tight. I never want her to let go.

Me and her.

Forever and always.

Holland Brothers

Hendrick

Well…?

Archer

Dude, we’re sweating it. Did you ask her or what?

Knox

Ask her before she wises up and she realizes she could do way better.

Hendrick

Oh, like you’re one to talk. Your fiancée is an Olympic athlete. People will refer to you as Mr. Avery Oliver.

Knox

Like I care. As long as they know she’s mine and I’ll break anyone who touches her, that’s all that matters.

Archer

Wow. Okay. Brogan?? I’m dying over here. Do we have a new sister or what?

Flynn

What’s happening? Is he finally asking her today? I cannot keep up with the group texts. You all need to get a life.

Knox

What? You get drafted to the big league and suddenly you’re too good for us?

Flynn

I was always too good for you

Archer

Daaaaamn. Nice one, little bro.

Me

She said YES! You can now refer to me as Mr. London Bennett, bitches!