Chapter 46

Chapter Forty-Six

DANE

Lettie: Good morning. Last day or first day of the year?

Me: Good morning. Last.

Lettie: What why? What about renewal and setting new goals?

Me: In basketball, it's all about finishing strong.

Lettie: It's a distant memory, but I vaguely remember you were a pro at finishing.

Me: One day, we'll get there.

Lettie: I'm wearing out my pink rabbit.

Me: At least it's not your hand. I won't be able to hit a shot today. I had to switch to my non-shooting hand, and I'm not quite as smooth with that one.

Lettie: Stop. Now when you miss, I'll think it's my fault.

Me: I never miss.

Lettie: It's going to be a memorable night. Go beat those birds.

Me: No doubt.

T he sexual innuendos have increased over the past week, but when we've been able to spend time together, we've kept it PG. In promoting honest communication between us, I ask her if she's getting frustrated.

"Frustrated isn't the right word, Dane. I know I want to be intimate with you again, but there's another side of me that's enjoying the wait and anticipation. I love that we're going to movies instead of staying in and watching them. I love that we're making snowmen in the park. I enjoy cooking meals together. It's a mix of Dane and Lettie as kids and as adults."

I squeeze her arms, pulling her close to make sure she knows how much I want to be inside her again. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

And it will be tonight. But for now, I need to catch the bus to the arena—it's time for the biggest game of the season.

Lettie, her grandparents, and my mom wave their pom poms to the school song. There's six seconds to go, and we're down by one point. Although I've had a bad shooting night by my standards, Coach calls my number, a play designed for me to shoot. When we come out of the timeout, I adjust my shorts, something I do every time I come out on the court, call it a superstition or habit. My eyes find Lettie's as the referee bounces the ball, with the whistle between his teeth. Lettie makes a shooting motion and gives me a slow wink, then cheers, "Go Stallions."

The referee blows the whistle, handing the ball to Devon. The Cards defense is smothering, and I put a finger in the air. Devon throws it high above my head, I jump and tap it back to him, which draws the defense away from me. He passes it back. I dribble twice then pull up and shoot. It seems as if the ball is in slow motion before hitting the rim, bouncing up. In a flash, I think I've lost the game, but then it bounces on the right side of the rim and then the left before falling through the net.

My teammates surround me, jumping up and down, slapping my head and body as the crowd chants, "Greathouse."

When the team breaks apart, I find my north star in the second row, but a reporter pulls me into an interview.

"Great game. You've had a tumultuous season. What's the reason for the turnaround?" she asks.

"Being happy. I almost lost someone so special, and I lost someone too. It puts things in perspective… to enjoy basketball because it won't be here forever. But hopefully, my relationships will be."

"While I have you here, we've been asking for years why you wear number eleven. Are you ready to tell us?"

I pause as I lick my lips and then bite into the bottom one, then I sigh. This is the time.

"It's simple really. At age eleven, I beat my father for the first time in a half-court game. That's when I knew I would be my own man. Make my own name. Unfortunately, I let him manipulate me, and it nearly cost me everything. Thank you, if you'll excuse me," I say quickly as I jump over the first row of seats. Lettie leaps into my arms, with her legs pretzeled around me.

She whispers in my ear, "Nice shot. Not smooth but nice. Maybe you need to let your hand rest." She giggles and kisses me on the cheek.

"Maybe I do." I peck her on the lips and join my team in the center of the court to celebrate the win.

We're in the locker room for the Stallions football team, which has been transformed into a staging area for the last three performers and the visiting locker room for the first three. Lettie gave the band four popular songs representing the phases of our life that we've known each other.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

"More than ready. Although singing at a New Year's Eve concert wasn't a dream of mine, I'm excited to be doing it together."

"Me too. Let's go."

"Please welcome to the stage, Dane & Lettie."

As we walk on stage, concert goers fill the football stadium's field and lower level. The drums thump behind us, and the guitarist plays a riff while the crowd shows its appreciation. Lettie waves, wearing black leather pants, a long-sleeve shirt, and my jersey knotted high on her hip covered by a thick, royal-blue, wool coat.

We're singers, not performers, but Lettie takes the microphone, raises her arms over her head, and claps to the beat of the band. I watch her in awe at how completely comfortable she is in the spotlight. She used to be my sidekick, and now I'm hers, which is fine with me. We roll into the first song and straight into the second.

The crowd chants, "Lettie," during the fifth song when she hits and holds a high note for ten beats.

Then I surprise Lettie and the crowd. "She's amazing, isn't she?" The audience continues their screams. "Lettie, I have something for you. Look at the video screen." There's one behind us, and also in all four corners of the stadium. The words display on the screen:

The best day of my life was when I was six years old—the day I met Lettie Scott.

When the crowd lets out a collective "Aaah," she twists around, with her mouth open and eyebrows lifted in surprise. She looks like an angel with the backlighting outlining her body. I feel she was put on earth for me. We have our very own angel looking out for us now, and it may sound narcissistic, but I only mean that we were made for each other.

The band plays the instrumental version of a Luke Combs' song "Better Together." Images of Lettie smiling as she's showing a frog to me plays on the screen. Lots of photos from our childhood and Halloween when we were Lilo and Stitch. The audience laughs. Guess who was Stitch. Of course, there are several of us riding horses, fishing, birthday parties, and holidays.

One of my favorites is when Lettie won the county math bee in sixth grade, and I'm standing beside her like I won the gold medal, with an ear-splitting grin. I remember her saying, "Do you know how much this would be worth if it was real gold?" Then she went on to tell me the price of gold per gram, times the weight, and the ultimate value. I've always loved how smart she is.

The video moves into our high school year: photos at bonfires, hanging out at football games, or pictures of me in my uniform after basketball games. But the best picture of all is when we won the science fair together. Her hair is a mess, and at this point, I'm awkward as hell, tall and lanky, and she looked at me like I hung the moon.

The same way she's looking at me right now.

She reaches for my hands and threads her fingers through mine.

Pictures flash on the screen with Lettie and me holding a handmade sign that says, "First day of college. We're Stallions." Grans made us take it and print it out, and it's still on her fridge four years later.

Now they' re chanting, "Stallions," on repeat. They roar when our fellow Stallions, Logan, Reed, and Hagan stand beside us at a cookout earlier this year. One from Timber Thrills pops up, before Nick was made to exit. But when the crowd sees us kissing after her equestrian competition, the stadium thunders like a herd of Stallions running wild on the field.

"I can't believe you did this," she mumbles as she squeezes my hand.

I had asked Presley and Flynn to put this together for me, I realized couples only have pictures of when they were together and happy. So, I decided if I was going to show this to thousands of people, they had to know that we've been through some tough times. I had them include videos of me missing shot after shot and of being benched at one point. And a picture of Brooke in the hospital. I hope she doesn't hate me for showing that one.

A picture from Christmas at Grans and Paps, sitting on the old couch they picked up on the highway. I think it's my favorite one of us. We look so natural and happy. It fades, then the video flashes each image faster like one pic for every half second, and it lands on the picture from Christmas Day again right as more words show on the screen.

Through good and bad, I have always loved you. I promise to always love you.

If the crowd is yelling, I can't hear them. I'm lost in Lettie's eyes that churn with emotion. I slip my arms around her waist, staring at the only girl who has ever meant anything to me as more than a friend, but yet she's still my best friend.

I whisper, "I love you."

"I can't believe you did this."

"Kiss me, baby."

Our mouths crash together, unashamed of the passion we're showing in front of thousands of people. When we come out of the kiss, people in the front row are crying, and they don't know the half of it. I pull my microphone to my lips.

"It's New Year's Eve, the last day of the year. And earlier this morning, Lettie and I had a conversation about whether the first or last day of the year is the best." I peck Lettie on the cheek. "She thinks the first day of the year is the best. I like finishing the year strong with a Stallion win." They yell my name. "Do you think we can change Lettie's mind?"

They cheer, jump, and clap. I see my teammates standing to the right. I had asked them to be here.

"I can't hear you."

"Yeah," they scream.

Reaching into the pocket of my leather jacket, I pull out a velvet box, and Lettie collapses on the floor without me saying a word, so I get on my knees in front of her, the band continues playing a soft version of the same song in the background.

"Lettie, from frogs to songs, video games to movies, from science fair to valedictorian, from equestrian to basketball, through all of our mistakes, I have never stopped loving you. Never did I think that I had wasted sixteen years of my life. I can't imagine a life without Lettie Scott in it. Not just as a friend, but a best friend because that's what man and wife should be… best friends. I want you to be my wife, but will you let me be your husband? The man who will kiss your tears away and fill your heart with so much love, you might bust."

I take the ring out. My hands shake because it's cold. Okay, that's a lie. I'm scared she's not ready for this.

Lettie's not crying. This isn't going as expected.

Then she rises enough to kiss me. Instead, she picks her microphone from the stage and says, "Yes, Dane Greathouse, you can be my husband." She giggles. "I love you."

With microphones in hand, I untie her wool coat and slip it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the stage. I touch the hem of my jersey and spin her around to show the crowd that she's always been mine. Always worn my shirts. We just didn't know what wearing my jersey meant. As Hagan told me, it means she's mine for life.

The audience claps and cheers.

I slide the ring on her finger. "So, Lettie, what's better: the last day of the year or the first?" I ask with my chest puffed out and so fucking happy.

The crowd l aughs and chants, "Last. Last."

Lettie's eyes crinkle around the edges as she smiles, staring at me. "Today, the last day of the year is the best. But ask me tomorrow, and I'll say the first day. Ask me the second day, and my answer will be the second of January. Every day with you will be my next favorite."

"Thanks, baby." My arm is wrapped around her shoulder and hers around my waist. "What do you say we fit in one more song before the big blue ball drops?"

"That's what they're paying us for."

After we finish the last song, the crowd is pumped. As we begin the countdown, ten, nine, eight, I feel a presence behind me: my mom, her grandparents, Hagan and Adalee, Logan and Harper, Reed and Brooke, Flynn and Presley, Devon, and Hannah and even Jasper and his wife, who recently got back together, joins us on the stage. Seven, six, five, Grans hugs me, and Mom does the same to Lettie. Four, three, two, one. "Happy New Year!" everyone screams.

I assume everyone found someone to kiss, but I wasn't looking at anyone but my fiancée.

Then our friends converge on us, offering congratulations.

Together, the crowd sings the lyrics to the traditional New Year's song.

"Good night and Happy New Year," Lettie and I say in unison.

Lettie

"First day. First day is best," I pant out. Dane is making me feel things I didn't think possible. I'm in multi-sensory overload.

"Agreed," he growls in my ears, sending an earthquake shuddering throughout my body. The deep seductive tone of his voice combined with him touching me tenderly while pounding me relentlessly has me flying into the unknown.

Any doubts I ever had about us being made for each other disintegrates with every thrust. With every bead of sweat that falls from his face to mine. My legs stiffen, and my fingers dig into his sweat-peppered skin. Slick and wet just like me.

"Come, baby,"

"I… I don't want it to end."

He slows down, giving long languid strokes that feel like he's filling every part of me. Nibbling on my neck and earlobe, his shaggy hair, styled earlier in the night, sticks to my skin. I'm so close to climaxing, but I can't let go. I don't want to. Fight, Lettie, fight, I tell myself internally, just like I did the night I overdosed. My eyes pinch closed as I moan with every nip of his teeth and love the long strokes of his erection.

Dane's lips skate over my jaw, and he pushes himself up on one elbow and, through labored breath, says, "Baby, this will never end."

Tears prick at the corners of my lids as my back arches off the bed. I don't know if it's the same for him but for me, when he says things, romantic or dirty, it triggers some emotional response in my body, and I scream, "It's, it's ending."

We fuse together, producing an orgasm so blinding, I don't see stars or feel dizzy. He grunts and spills into me with so much force, it actually stings my inside walls.

"Damn, you're incredible, Lettie."

"I told you the first day of the year is the best." I wink with a satisfied grin.

Blanketing me with his body, with only his head not laying on me, more sweat beads drip, and I try to catch them with my tongue, loving the taste and smell of Dane Greathouse.

He chuckles, wiping my damp hair from my face. "Promise you'll always make me laugh."

"I'll do my best. If you promise to always give me orgasms. I find I'm in a much better mood when I get them. For the last couple of months, I've been a little on edge."

"Baby, anytime you want me to take the edge off, I'll always be there for you."

The playfulness fades, replaced with the seriousness of the past twelve hours. When we left the stage, we spent thirty minutes with our friends and family, celebrating our engagement, the new year, and all of the possibilities in front of us.

"Thank yo u for telling the world how much you love me and cherish me. You saved me from a lifetime of loneliness when we were kids. I didn't understand why my parents didn't want me and when kids would say, ‘Where's your mom at the class party?' I felt so empty. But you were always there to back me up. I love you with all my heart, and if you feel ten percent of that love, then you have to be filled up."

Rolling us over so that I'm on top, Dane strokes a tendril of my hair and places it over my shoulder and says, "I do and the fact that there's ninety percent more means we'll always have back up. When we're running low on energy because we have eight kids running around, playing hide and seek, sports, some in diapers, I promise to show you how much you're loved as a wife. I'll never let you forget how beautiful you are when your hair frizzes during sex or how sexy you are when you drop your robe on the floor, leaving you only in your birthday suit or when we get in the shower together before bed."

"Eight?" I ask, questioning my hearing.

He laughs. "Is that what you're taking from my heartfelt love?"

He tickles me behind my knee, and his smile would light up Times Square.

"I was thinking if we're going to have eight children, we better start soon."

"There's a good chance we made a baby five minutes ago. Lettie, what about the Olympics? If you got pregnant just now, then you won't be able to ride. You would be se ven months along."

"The Olympics isn't nearly as important to me as having a family with you."