The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,39

secret garden of sorts.

The Doc’s only condition was that I remain in bed, which did make getting into my suit quite difficult. Phoenix and Peyton tried to help, but they struggle dressing themselves let alone someone else.

I look at Dad as we wait for Linnea to get changed down the hall. She headed off with Erin half an hour ago. God knows what they’ve been getting up to.

Light music, again supplied by Alissa, is playing, Phoenix and Peyton beside me with their hands clasped in front of themselves, Heather on the other side making eye sex with her better half across the room.

Dad hasn’t said anything, but I know loosely what’s he thinking, that this was all too fast. Maybe? It’s hard to know the mind of Stone King, but I am thankful my brothers have loosened up this path for me. In truth Dad probably thinks of this more like a transaction, a way to keep Linnea safe. He might be many things, but he has become soft on matters of the heart these last couple of years, even to his own detriment at times. If he can grow, become a better version of himself, hell, anyone can.

Erin arrives in the doorway smiling, entering the room, letting Linnea fill her space. In that instant, I am breathless.

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

The dress Alissa helped her pick out features a deep, plunging neckline with bare shoulders, simple and elegant. There’s not a hint of tomboy. What I see before me is all woman, all beauty, and all I’ll ever need.

I see her and know this is the right decision. I look into her eyes, see her smiling, and I never want to look away.

“Wow,” I say, when she stands next to me, taking my hand. “You look incredible.”

She’s nervous, I can tell, but it only makes her more endearing.

“You scrub up pretty good yourself,” she whispers.

The officiant steps forward. “Shall we start?”

It’s a simple ceremony. Everything’s running along smoothly, but when it comes to the vows, I panic.

“I don’t have my vows,” I tell Linnea.

“Neither do I,” she replies, recalling them from memory.

I’m not so gifted, forced to improvise.

Silence fills the room. I know no one’s going to expect me to recite a Shakespearian masterwork, but I still want to speak my mind and make it somewhat elegant.

I take a moment to compose myself and look to my bride-to-be. “I remember the first time I saw you,” I begin. “I got the feeling you were someone I wanted to, no, needed to know,” I correct. “I remember your first words to me, our first kiss, waking up to Michael Jordan.” This is met by a few bemused looks around the room but laughter from Linnea.

“Waking up to you, I knew,” I continue. “This was the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and yeah, you’re smart and funny and a complete badass who’s oddly gifted at sports of every kind, but I want you to know my love for you is real, that you are that person I dream of coming home to. Forever and always, my heart is yours, Linnea Marsden. Do with it what you will.”

She breaks down. Wiping away tears, her eyes fluttering. “I don’t want to ruin Erin’s makeup,” she laughs.

Erin speaks up from the back of the room. “I’m no expert. You’re probably doing it a favor.”

Panic returns when we come to exchange rings, but Phoenix reaches into his pocket and passes across the ring Mom left for me, one for each of us brothers and this the last. I almost tear up myself thinking about her, how proud she’d be standing there seeing Linnea, seeing me so happy.

Grace fills that spot. I think she’s crying enough for everyone combined.

We exchange rings, a hearty round of applause when we kiss and the marriage is made official.

There’s nothing Rex can do now, I realize.

Linnea’s mine, she’s a King, and she’s safe.

*

After the celebrations are completed—apple juice for me, champagne for every else—it’s just Linnea and me, the door closed and nothing but the soft hum of a working hospital.

Linnea’s lying up on the bed beside me, arm over my chest adjusting my bandage.

The pain has dropped off, or maybe it’s just the drugs.

I play with her hair. “How does it feel to be married, Mrs. King?”

She holds her hand up, ring glinting in the moonlight from the window. “Pretty damn good, truth be told.”

Her hand falls back to my chest, runs