“I’m gonna have to get back to you on that one.”
“I’d still love you even if you had mantis legs.”
I wrap my arms around her fully, bringing her body all the way against mine.
“Would you?” I ask softly, my mouth beside her ear. “Even if I sliced your nipples off with my razor-sharp legs?”
“Damn, babe. You made that dark.”
“Darker than getting my head eaten off?”
She runs a hand up the back of my neck, into my hair. “New subject. I love you so much.”
“I love you so much, too.”
“Is this our song now?”
“I think it should be. I picked it out because of the lyrics.”
She listens for a few seconds, smiling. “I’m your end and your beginning?”
“You’re my everything. End, beginning, and every second in between.”
She kisses me softly.
“You’re mine, too,” she says against my lips.
The song ends, but we stay there, unaware of anything but the two of us. For me, the music isher. She’s my ocean and my sky. The air I breathe and the star that shines brighter than any other, guiding me home.
Home to her.
EPILOGUE
Magnus
I’m never wearingthis sweater again. It’s hot, especially in a crowded restaurant. But I had no other choice, because the hotel laundry service is unpredictable, and I still don’t have many clothes.
I needed something appropriate for my coach’s engagement party. So when my laundry didn’t make it back in time, I had to rush to a department store, pick up a dress shirt I didn’t have time to iron, and also get a sweater I could wear over the shirt so no one could see how wrinkled it is.
Hotel life is getting old. I’m on the road or at the arena a lot, but it would be nice to have a couch to sit on when I’m home. A way to make protein shakes that doesn’t include washing my blender in a bathroom sink would be good, too.
The ice machine next to my room wakes me up when it cycles on in the middle of the night, and since the windows don’t open, the room always smells like a hockey bag.
It would be nice to come home from a grueling game or road trip and have someone ask me how it went. But no—I’m greetedby the stench of fermented BO. Wet leather, plastic, rubber, and old sweat melded into the funk of a thousand hockey games.
I can’t risk an apartment lease or home purchase, though. Things are going well so far in Cleveland, but I’m still not sure my shoulder is at a hundred percent. And even if it is, this game I love with my entire soul is fickle. I could get traded at any moment, and I don’t want to be stuck with a mortgage and a house full of furniture if I do.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?” my teammate Isaac asks, passing me a fresh bottle of beer.
“Not bad. You?”
He glances at Coach Turner and Jules, who are dancing, completely wrapped up in their own world.
“I’m fantastic.” He glances from side to side, making sure no one’s close enough to overhear. “Hey, I met this chick on Tinder who wants two guys at once. You up for that?”
I hum with amusement. “I don’t know, man. You’re a team player on the ice, but outside that, you’re a glory hog.”
He grins. “Three holes, bro, plenty for both of us. And we could even add another guy if we really wanted to blow her mind.”
