He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, licking his lips. “I do. So much. I haven’t said anything, because… well, I was a chicken shit, too scared to say anything until you said something or we’d been together longer. Plus, I worry about the huge gap in our ages…”
“No worries there, Daddio. I love that you’re older than me.”
“Daddio, huh? You’ve called me that before.”
My face heated. I couldn’t believe I said that. “Umm, yeah.”
“I like it.”
“Good.”
Twining my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, my nose brushing his, our foreheads resting together. “I love you, too.”
He inhaled, holding the breath for a moment—a long one—then huffed out. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been, baby boy. So… until you tell me to take my old ass for a hike, I’m stuck to you like glue.”
“Not happening, Daddy. Not ever.”
“What had you so worried, baby? Was it something I did or said?”
I shook my head, chewing my already gnawed raw lips. Alex pulled my lip free with his eyebrows raised. “After you left, I got to complaining, and Ewen pointed out there was a timer on the secret. I got excited and started talking about what I’d do when I signed my NHL contract. Ewen asked if you felt the same, because you’d always avoided the media.”
“And you started doubting yourself and us?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Don’t be. Ewen was right to point out what he did. He looked out for you by helping you remember that making plans that involve others without knowing where they stand is a recipe for disappointment.”
“So, you’re not mad?”
“Not at all.”
I sighed and cuddled into his embrace just a little deeper. Earlier, my plans included dancing with Ollie, then getting railed by my Daddy, but right this minute, I just wanted to cuddle.
“Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Can we cuddle?”
“We are.”
“No, like really cuddle. You know, snuggling in bed with junk food and Hawk while we binge-watch television.”
He chuckled, pressing his lips to my forehead. “That sounds like a fabulous end to the night.”
THIRTY-THREE
SASHA
I stood against the boards next to the open gate where Hawk lay watching the team practice. For most students, Thanksgiving week meant a long weekend with several days off, filled with food, family, and holiday shopping.
Not for collegiate hockey players, though. We played on Friday and Saturday. I checked the clock on the scoreboard. The team from Alaska flew in later today. I didn’t know if or how they were planning to celebrate the holiday, but my guys were spending the holiday in the arena, cooking, hanging out, watching football, and playing video games.
At thirty-five years old, I shouldn’t be jealous of a bunch of twenty-somethings, but I was. And for more than one reason. I wanted to spend the holiday with Aiden, and the team’s idea seemed like the best holiday ever.
I could cook for myself, but cooking a huge meal without anyone to share it with sounded depressing, so I avoided it. As an only child of two only children who were also only children,holidays lost their meaning when my parents died, my first year in the league.
My teammates had been awesome, and I usually spent the holidays with one of them and their families. Since the injury, Hawk and I picked up takeout or steaks and vegged on the couch in front of the television. We’d take a hike around the lake, but really, it was just the same as any other day. I didn’t mind the schedule we had for the weekend, but I knew others didn’t feel the same way.
