I opened my eyes and nodded. “You’re right. Which is why your patience is... ” I let the sentence hang, searching for something light, something less like drowning. “Honestly? Legendary. Saint-level. Put-you-on-a-stamp level.”
He snorted. “A stamp?”
“A forever stamp,” I said solemnly. “The kind people hoard in their junk drawer.”
Dirks laughed, eyes crinkling, and pulled me tighter against him.
“You’re wild,” he murmured into my hair.
“Maybe,” I breathed.
I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
“Come on. We’ve got to get your basket of lavender jam and overpriced Christmas soap back to your place before your big game.”
He smirked. “Don’t disrespect the basket.”
“I’m just saying.” I teased him, grabbing his hand again as we started walking. “If you show up late to the arena carrying artisanal marmalade and rosemary hand cream, I feel like your team’s gonna have questions.”
“Jealousy isn’t cute on you.”
I grinned. “Neither is that basket, but here we are.”
He bumped my shoulder lightly. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“No,” I said, lacing my fingers with his. “I’m lucky you’re letting me stay.”
15
dirks
The game wasunreal. One of those where the puck felt glued to my stick, where every shift hit right, every pass connected. We shut them down and came out blazing. Third period, I snagged a rebound off the boards and roofed it top shelf, clean, brutal, and fuckingloud. The place fucking exploded so loudly my ears were still ringing.
None of that compared to the moment I glanced up and sawher, standing front and center in a glass seat. She wasn’t tucked away in the family box upstairs like everyone else.No.Luna was right there, ice-level, where I could see her every time I skated by.
She looked like sin in a cropped Ravens top Alex’s wife whipped together at the last minute for me. Black, tight, my name stitched across her back like she’d been wearing it for years. Red lips, big blonde curls, that look in her eyes like sheknewexactly what she was doing to me.
This—this was why I begged her to come back from London.
It wasn’t only for late-night talks or mornings in my T-shirt or the way she curled into me like she was built for it.
But for thisexactfucking moment. Seeing her there, glowing, proud, standing in a sea of fans and looking like she belonged to me?
That was everything.
I didn’t know what we were calling each other yet. Girlfriend. Partner. Walking heart attack in lipstick. Didn’t matter.
All I knew was that she wasmine.
I came out of the locker room still riding the edge of that game high, hair damp, suit sharp, tie barely done right.
She was waiting outside the tunnel, leaning against the wall. The second she saw me, her face lit up. She launched herself at me, arms around my neck, legs wrapping around my waist.
Her cropped Ravens top rode up as she clung to me, bare skin warm against my torso, curls bouncing around her face.
“Wow,” she murmured, breath catching. “You did amazing tonight.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around her, pressing my face into her shoulder, letting myself have her for just a second.
