The Five Hole creaks with the wind.
Thatcher hates it—says it’s the insulation, the old boards settling. I say it’s the place breathing. Stretching into itself. Remembering who it belongs to and what it wants to be.
Tuesday night crowd’s thinning and I finally see the last one out. Jamie is already gone. He’s off with his friends after helping to lead the U10s in camp and worrying about his own standings.
I’m wiping down the bar, watching Thatcher argue with Riley over how to mount a new chalkboard menu without ruining the frame.
There are some guys coming tomorrow, a couple out of Colorado with a show about food and diners or bars on some cable network. They’re highlighting The Five Hole due to the unique hockey items the bar showcases, as well as the drink specials.
I guess we’re all trying to look our best.
Not that looking our best is difficult. Business has been fantastic and a highlight like that will just make it better.
Thatcher’s eye catches mine across the bar and I see his lips twitch, something warm and shiny in his gaze. My breath catches a bit too, and the ghost of his now-familiar touch makes me shudder.
That man will drive me wild until death do us part.
Or at least, that’s my plan.
Thatcher does worry more about teaching Jamie how to drive than about how high his national ranking is these days.
Jamie just keeps getting better, though, so that day is coming, and I just hope I’m the one to answer the door the first time an agent shows up.
“You’re good?” I ask as Thatcher draws near, Riley nowhere to be seen. Thatcher’s hands graze my hips just enough to make me give a happy sigh.
Gabe shrugs. “You ever think we’re too settled, Monroe?” I blink. “No. Do you think we’re too settled?” I ask.
The Knights played tonight, and the bar was packed for the game, of course, and my man Dom played like the star he can be. It made me happy. Proud. Certainly fucking content.
But Thatch gets weird ideas sometimes when the Knights play. As if I might miss that life.
As if.
“Like maybe there’s something else we should be doing other than running a bar and raising a kid?”
And there it is. No mention of his carpentry business, just the bar and Jamie. It’s a good thing Gabe has me watching out for him because his sense of self-preservation isn’t for shit.
“You want to join a curling league?” I tease. He rolls his eyes but smiles. That smile that says you know exactly what I meant, asshole.He looks up when I step into his space. “Are you asking if I’m content? Because if you are, I dare you to show any evidence that I’m not.”
I back up enough to hop onto the bar, swinging my legs like a teenager. I watch him finish wiping down the same spot twice while mentally encouraging him to come stand between my open thighs.
“Just checking.”
I hum. Thatcher could overthink breathing if he let himself.
I feel the smirk rise on my face. I happen to know something that will take his mind off it. After waiting weeks, this is finally the perfect time. The bar is closed and it’s just us here. I’m sure Riley’s gone home by now.
I reach into the cabinet under the till and pull out the small wooden box I stashed there earlier. His eyebrows rise.
“What’s that?”
“Open it.”
He does.
Inside is no surprise, a ring that’s been a long time coming. Simple. Warm-toned metal. No stone. Just solid, quiet permanence.
Like him.
