“Yeah. Court’s next week, so Cain told me to come back with you because of the storm we're getting in the event everything shutsdown. I figured I’d go over my notes with him tomorrow, but tonight I have a surprise for you.” I take a deep breath, feeling nervous. “I’m taking you ice skating.”
Her eyes widen. “Skating?”
I nod, grinning at her harder. “On the lake behind your house. Have you ever been?”
She shakes her head, but her face lights up like I just handed her the moon. “I mean, it’s been years. Our dad took us a few times when we were kids to the Rockefeller Center, but I’ve never done it on a lake before. I heard it can be more dangerous with all the bumps and grooves that freeze naturally.”
“It can be,” I admit, my smile softening. “But I’ll be there to catch you if you fall. It’s how I learned how to skate when I was a kid out on the pond at my parent’s logging farm.”
“Okay… But I don’t have ice skates.”
I brush her off with a shrug. “I bought you some.”
“You... How’d you even know my size?”
“Checked your closet when we were there together a month ago.”
Her mouth falls open in surprise. “You… you…” before shaking her head, clearly at a loss. She turns to look out the window instead, but I catch the small smile that’s tugging at the corner of her lips. This was a good decision. I haven’t fucked it up yet.
Satisfied, I lean back in my seat as the cab makes the short drive to the train station. When we stop, I hop out, opening her door and grabbing both my bag and hers.
“You know, you constantly surprise me, Boone,” she says, a grin spreading across her face as I press a hand to her lower back and guide us toward the train platform.
“My mom told me that’s the key to a successful marriage,” I whisper in her ear, helping her through the gate. She laughs easily.
That isn’t a lie, and the truth is that I’ll take all the marital advice I can get to make this work.
???
Two hours later, we’re back in Brookhaven, finishing up a simple dinner in her cozy living room surrounded by unopened boxes and the dark, moonlit view from outside her windows.
Pizza wasn’t the grand gesture I’d hoped for, but I didn’t have the foresight to cook or order something fancier. And the only restaurant in Brookhaven, Brookhaven Brews, closed early tonight due to the coming storm.
Thankfully, Rosie doesn’t seem to care. She’s sprawled out on the floor, her legs crossed, her head thrown back as she laughs at a story that I just finished telling her about some of my younger, wilder years in the league when I was just a rookie, living with Lochlan and Ty.
She’s wearing nothing but a pair of dark black sweatpants and my jersey, which still hangs loosely on her frame like a blanket. I’m glad she kept it on. She looks good in it. And I’m even happier she’s stuck to my “rule” of only wearing my jersey to my games.
I consider whether I should wash it before I wear it next and decide I won't be doing that anytime soon. In fact, she can just keep it. It looks better on her anyway.
“So,” she says, wiping her mouth delicately with a napkin before standing to gather our empty plates, “the snow is really coming down out there. Are you sure we can skate?”
“I’m confident,” I reply, flashing her a cocky grin. “Unless you’re scared and want to back out?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, giving me a look that says she’s already accepted the challenge. “Never.”
I chuckle and move to my bag, pulling out the box with her new skates. They’re purple—my favorite color on her—and when I hand them over, her face lights up as she takes them out, turning them over in her hands.
“They’re perfect,” she says softly, her voice full of genuine appreciation. “No one’s ever bought me a gift so… thoughtful before.”
Fuck those other guys.
“Well,” I say, retrieving my own skates, “put on a warmer coat and some thicker socks with a hat. I’ll meet you down by the pier.”
“Okay.” She nods and heads upstairs to get ready while I clean up the rest of the trash we've created before slipping outside.
Rosie’s home has a deck that leads down to a long, wooden pier, much like the other houses that surround the lake, most of which have docks for boats in the warmer months. From what I’ve learned, Brookhaven was started as a blue-collar town where most of the inhabitants were fishers.
And I get it. Because the views are immaculate. Out here, it’s nothing but quiet—serene in the way only the country can be, especially with the fresh snow blanketing everything. The moon stretches over the frozen lake, casting a silvery glow on the ice and everything is… still.
