I stumble slightly over that word. I don’t think Portland is perfect for him. He was alone there. Oh, the city loved him, he had teammates, everyone knew who he was. But I don’t think anyoneknewhim. He was a hockey player there. But there’s so much more to him. And I think even Alex is just now figuring that out.
Still, I force a smile. “You’ll get right back to your usual routines. It will feel natural in no time.” I clear my throat. “I mean, that’s home.”
I hate the way my voice breaks a little bit on that last word.
He frowns. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
“How much time do you have?” I ask. There’s only one thing that I really want to do right now.
“Declan is sending his plane for me,” Alex says, giving me a sheepish smile. That quickly fades. “I just have a few hours. Enough time to pack up some things—Astrid is going to send everything that I don’t need right away—and say goodbye to some people. I want to tell the team myself if I can.”
I nod. I like that he wants to see everyone in person and explain. But I need him for about an hour.
“I think you should do that,” I say. “But can we go to my house for a little bit?”
His eyes search my face. I don’t want him to wonder what I’m talking about, so I shift, sliding into his lap and straddling his thighs. I take his face in my hands and kiss him.
He groans, his hands going to my hips, fingers digging in as if he’s trying to hold onto me.
I kiss him deeply, then lift my head. “I need you. One more time.”
He swallows hard and nods. “I’m yours.”
I almost sob at that. Oh, how I wish that were true.
“Let’s go,” I say, sliding off his lap and standing.
He looks around. “Is the club over?”
It’s not, but I’m going to do something that I have never ever done before.
I’m going to leave one of my clubs early.
Neither of uswants to rush. I might have expected him to throw the door open, carry me through it, and press me up against the wall. Or bend me over the couch. Or even spread me out on the table, not even bothering to go to the bedroom.
All of those images make my body heat and my pulse thump. But Alex doesn’t do any of that. He doesn’t seem in a hurry at all.
I push the door open, and we both step inside, taking off our shoes, then he links our fingers together and leads me up the staircase toward the bedroom.
Next to the bed, we stop and he cups my face, dragging his thumb over my lower lip.
“I feel like I’ve been here so much longer than I have. So much has happened.”
I know exactly what he means. “It also feels like you just got here yesterday.”
He nods. “Maybe it will never feel like it’s long enough.”
Okay, I cannotlet him say things like that. It’s already breaking my heart that he’s leaving. And not in the same way as the other guys who’ve left. This was always the plan for one thing. But I can also sense his hesitation. I think part of it is thathe feels that he’s disappointing me. I also think he might have some reasons he’d like to stay.
That makes this harder than saying goodbye to the others. They wanted to go.
I know once Alex is in Portland, he’ll be happy. That’s his turf. Coaching for the Grays will be second nature. He’ll be able to walk into coffee shops all over the city and be welcomed. There will definitely not be straw polls declaring that Brussels sprouts are better than Alex Olsen.
Still, I like that he’s not racing out of town.
“I was going to wear one of your Revelers jerseys, but I can’t buy a Grays jersey with your number on it now,” I say. “What do people do when they have a crush on one of the coaches?”
He makes a little growling noise back in his throat. “I’m going to send you one of my old jerseys. As long as it has my last name on it, you can definitely wear it.”
