“Because you added color to my life when all I could see was the darkness. You’re so deeply ingrained in my soul that I don’t see a future without you in it.”
I gasp, my free hand flying to my mouth. His grip tightens on mine. “I love you, Ivy. A part of me has been in love with you since that first week. I didn’t know it then, but I do now. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
The words knock the breath from me. I’ve only ever heard them from family or close friends, and never in the romantic way. I’m stunned by how much I’ve longed to hear those three not-so-little words from him, and how terrifying and beautiful they are all at once. Especially coming from the man who has shown me the meaning of being in love.
“I—” The words are so enormous and important to say. “I love you, too. So much it scares me.”
He laughs, the sound breathless and a little choked. “I know the feeling.”
As if pulled by the same unseen thread, we lean in at once. Our kiss starts soft and slow like we’re both afraid the moment might vanish if we move too fast. But it doesn’t. It only deepens. His hand rises to cradle my cheek, fingers cool but gentle, and I melt into the touch. The world around us fades into a blur of snow and noise. The connection quickly turns more urgent, weeks of emotion spilling into the seam between us.
His lips are familiar and new all at once. Paired with his signature scent, they feel like coming home after a long time and realizing everything is exactly as you remembered. The warmth of him bleeds through layers of fabric, through the weeks of distance and longing. He kisses me like he’s been starving for this exact moment. In return, I kiss him as though I’ve found oxygen after suffocating for weeks.
Someone shouts our names, but the rest of it doesn’t register. Because at this moment, there is only him. The man who made me trust in myself when I thought I had nothing left to give. The guy who held my hand through change. The person who truly sees me and never looks away.
When I finally lean back, just enough to see his face again, I’m breathless and blinking fast. He looks undone in the best way. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, his lips puffy from kissing me.
“That’s one way to let the world know you’re mine,” I rasp, voice rough with emotion.
He presses our foreheads together, nose brushing mine. “Let’s give them more to talk about.”
In his embrace, the final remnants of my protective layer slip away. I don’t feel the need to hide or shield the tender parts of myself any longer. With Teddy, there’s only acceptance.
45
TEDDY
MARCH 22
The hotel room door shuts with a soft click behind us, and for the first time all day, the constant noise of Lake Placid and the racing event fades into a hush. No more random celebration, shouts or questions. There’s just the faint hum of the minifridge and the sound of Ivy’s bag sliding off her shoulder onto the carpet.
I stand still, fingers tightening around my cane for emotional support. My heart is hammering so loud I wonder if she can hear it. We’ve spent time apart, missing each other, and now she’s here. Close enough that I can breathe in the comforting coconut scent that clings to her hair.
“This feels unreal,” she says softly, her voice wavering around the edges.
“You mean us finally being in the same room again?”
“Yeah. That.”
With a soft chuckle, I take a careful step forward and reach for her, my cane forgotten. My fingers brush the sleeve of herjacket first—the nylon smooth and still cool from the outside air—before I find her hand. The warmth of her palm fits against mine like it never left, like we were meant to fit together.
“Ivy,” I murmur, gripping her tighter, “I don’t even know where to start. So much happened while you were gone, and well, we haven’t talked much.”
“I blame myself for it, even though I know there are two people in this relationship.”
I feel the emotion in her stillness and the way her breathing changes. My thumb strokes over the back of her hand. “Tell me,” I say gently. “What happened, Ivy? You sound like you’ve been carrying something heavy.”
“Honestly, I’m shocked I finished third. My season had some ugly moments like the race in Finland. I kept thinking that if you’d seen me, you wouldn’t have recognized me…that you’d be disappointed.”
Her confession guts me. The idea that she thought my love for her was that fragile—that one stumble, one bad day or one mistake could erase the woman I know her to be—makes it hard to act rationally. I want to grab her, shake her, kiss her, do anything to prove how wrong she is. Hell, I was missing her so much I was talking to an empty room!
I let go of her hand only so I can reach higher, searching until I find her cheek. Her skin is damp—tears, probably—and warm against my cold fingers. I stroke my thumb over her cheekbone, willing her sadness to go away.
“Nothing could ever change how I feel,” I whisper, the words scraped straight from the deepest part of me.
Her exhale brushes my wrist. “And how do you feel?”
“That’s both the easiest and hardest question of my life,” I say with a knowing chuckle. “The answer is I love you. I have for a while and always will.”
