"Because this morning I woke up happy. And I realized I get to keep waking up like that as long as you're here."
She leans into my side and smiles. "That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said."
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late. You're soft now. No taking it back."
Quiet fills the arena around us, empty seats and dormant dreams surrounding our moment. In a few days this place will be packed with screaming fans while I'm out there throwing hits and protecting my teammates. Scout will be in her studio, teaching people to move without pain, building her business one body at a time.
And someday soon, I'll have to retire. My body still has a clock on it, even if I'm more flexible from living with Scout.
But right now, it's just us. A woman who teaches flexibility and a man who's learning to bend. A ring that promises permanence and a life that finally feels worth keeping.
"Hey," Scout says suddenly. "We're getting married."
"We are."
"Scout Huxley sounds right to me. I'm going to be Scout Huxley."
"If you want. You can keep Nash. It's whatever you want."
"Are you kidding? I just want you, big guy."
God, I'm so gone for her. "You have me. Forever, apparently."
"Forever," she agrees.
And the word doesn't scare me at all.
Chapter Forty-Two
Thorne
The end of season party thumps through speakers that rattle the walls of the private venue. Players pack the room shoulder to shoulder, finally loose after months of grinding through games. Sponsors hover with drinks they'll never finish. Photographers float between groups, hunting for smiles that look genuine enough for social media.
I'm not looking for her. I made a promise to myself that I'd behave tonight. Behaving means not seeking her out or staring at her like a stalker from across the room.
I claim space near the bar. People automatically give me room the way they always do for the captain. I'm also a big guy. Six foot four, six four and a half on the weekend. Not as husky as Hunter or Silas, but a hell of a lot faster on the ice. Plus, I'm the fucking center.
That counts for a lot around here. Especially with the bunnies. A cluster of them stand nearby, making eyes at me. But I'm being good. So not only am I not looking for her, I'm not looking for anyone to keep my bed warm tonight. Just me and my hand.
Across the room, Silas stands with Scout near the dance floor. She says something into his chest and laughs, head tipped back with waves bouncing. His hand rests at her waist like it belongs there. He looks settled in a way I never see during games. Not loose exactly, but comfortable in his skin for once.
Watching them creates an itch I don't want to examine.
Discipline makes sense to me. Focus and control are languages I speak. Building something through repetition is how you survive this league. What doesn't compute is believing in permanence when hockey eats relationships alive. Recently, two of the meanest, baddest guys on our team have settled down.
They didn't just find girlfriends. Hunter is married. Silas is engaged. If I ever felt some kind of solitary brotherhood with my fellow hockey players, I sure as hell don't anymore.
Marriages crack under the schedule while divorces play out in headlines. Women who used to wear team jackets like armor end up flinching at the sound of skates.
Yet Silas looks happy anyway.
A photographer waves me over before I can look away. My feet carry me to the designated spot and I arrange my face into the expression they want. Neutral works best for these things. Some nameless guy in a suit shakes my hand while saying my name like they own part of it. Another person claps my back and calls me a natural leader. Someone else thanks me for a season I haven't processed yet.
The glass of beer in my hand stays untouched. Can I go yet? I check my watch, feeling my impatience growing. Since I can't take out my aggression the normal way with two pretty brunettes who writhe and gasp my last name like I'm a fucking god, I'm more wound up than usual.
That's when I find her. It's not my fault. Mollie catches my sleeve when I'm looking for an exit.
