We sit for a moment, her hand still in mine, as the last light fades from the sky, the city sparkling below us.
“I want to be with you forever—give you everything,” I say finally. “But I want you to take your time and think about what that would mean. It’s a huge decision, and I don’t want you to make it tonight on impulse. If you decide it’s too much—”
“There’s nothing to consider,” Sydney interrupts, her voice strong now. “Being with you is the easiest decision I’ve ever had to make.”
“You can’t mean that,” I say, though my fingers tighten around hers. “You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”
“Neither do you.” Her eyes flash with that stubborn determination I adore. “You haven’t been tested. You might not have it at all. But even if you do...” She cups my face with her free hand, forcing me to meet her eyes. “We’ll deal with it together. Because you know what scares me more than any possible future with you? A guaranteed future without you.”
Her raw honesty steals my breath. “Syd—”
“Whatever time we have—whether it’s decades or days—I want to spend it with you.” Her thumb brushes away a tear I didn’t realize I’d shed. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”
I pull her into a fierce embrace, my body shaking with relief and pent-up emotion. Her arms come around me, strong and sure, as the weight I’ve been carrying alone for so long finally begins to lift. Outside, the sky has deepened to black, stars emerging one by one, a universe of possibilities spreading before us.
“I love you. So much,” I whisper into her hair, the words still new and fragile on my tongue. “I thought I’d never get to say that to you.”
“Well, get used to it.” Sydney’s voice muffled against my chest. “Because I plan on hearing it every day for as long as we have.”
As we pull apart, her hands come up to frame my face, her eyes searching mine. “We’re going to figure this out. All of it. Together.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. For so long, I’ve faced my fears alone—on the ice, in the quiet darkness of sleepless nights. The idea that I don’t have to anymore, that this incredible woman wants to stand beside me through whatever comes, is almost too much to comprehend.
“Together.” My voice is rough with emotion.
Sydney smiles, the expression transforming her tear-streaked face into something beautiful. “Now,” she says, her tone lightening, “are you going to kiss me in these beautiful, romantic digs, or what?”
I laugh at her ability to find humor even in our most serious moments. “Definitely.”
As our lips meet, the last of my reservations melts away. Whatever the future holds—tests, diagnoses, challenges I can’t yet imagine—I’m no longer facing it alone. We have each other, and that’s more than enough.
It’s everything.
Epilogue
SYDNEY
SYDNEY
Christmas Eve at Maisie’s house feels like being wrapped in a warm hug—if that hug smelled like cinnamon, pine, and the distinct aroma of my brother getting tipsy on spiked spicy hot cocoa. I’m sitting in a room glowing with twinkle lights and love, Brooks’ fingers laced through mine like they’ve always belonged there, surrounded by the people who matter most.
Jonah raises his glass, talking way too loudly when he says, “Everyone! I have a good news bomb to drop.” The room, meaning my parents, Brooks’ parents, Meema, and Zoe, all go quiet, and Jonah grins, looking more like my mischievous brother who put Elmer’s glue in my hand lotion bottle. “I’ve been traded to the Trout. Starting next season, I’m coming home to Boise.”
A round of cheers erupts, especially from our parents, who now have both their children only a half hour away. I already knew, but Brooks didn’t, and he’sclearly thrilled, already talking about line combinations and playoff potential with my brother.
Jonah’s gesticulating wildly when he goes into some hockey story that has Zoe hanging on his every word. “And then the ref had the audacity—theaudacity—to call interference!” Jonah throws his hands up, nearly spilling his third glass of Maisie’s “special recipe” that’ll put hair on your chest.
“Tragic,” Zoe deadpans, but her eyes sparkle with amusement. She’s wearing a sweater with an embroidered reindeer whose nose, lined up between her cleavage, lights up when you press it. So far, Jonah’s pressed it seven times in the last hour. Not that I’m counting.
“Sports are hard,” my dad adds sagely.
Brooks’ thumb traces small circles on my skin, and I glance up at him, at the laugh lines around his eyes, at the steady warmth in his gaze that still makes my stomach flip.
“Your brother’s going to regret that third spiked cocoa tomorrow,” he murmurs into my hair.
“Bold of you to assume he’ll stop at three,” I whisper back. Then I give Gus a pet, as he’s sitting on the other side of me, miserable in an elf costume. We need to get pictures of him so he can get out of that soon, but I have to say—he looks hilarious.
From the kitchen, Maisie emerges with what appears to be a tray of test tubes filled with liquids in alarming Christmas colors—neon green, ruby red, and something that can only be described as tinsel silver.
