“But it's a house, Grant. That's... that's permanent.”
He turned to look at me. “Is that a problem?”
“No. I just—” I stopped, trying to articulate what I was feeling. “A month ago, I thought we were going to lose everything. Now we're looking at houses. It feels fast.”
“We don't have to decide today. We can keep looking. Find something that feels right.”
“This feels right,” I admitted. “That's what scares me.”
Grant's hand found mine. “Jace. We've been hiding for months. Sneaking around. Pretending we didn't want exactly this. Now we can actually have it. That's not fast. That's finally being honest about what we want.”
I laced my fingers through his. “You really want to live here? With me?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“What about the team? The commute?”
“Forty minutes. I've driven worse.” He squeezed my hand. “And having space that's ours, away from the arena and the media and everyone's opinions, feels worth it.”
I looked around the house again. Imagined waking up here. Having coffee on the porch. Coming home after practice to something that was actually ours instead of just mine or his.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?”
“Let's do it. Let's make an offer.”
Grant smiled, and it was the real one. The one that made his whole face change. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I'm sure.”
We made an offer that afternoon.Margaret accepted two days later.
The next three weeks were a blur of paperwork, inspections, and coordinating move dates. The team knew—of course they knew, Rook had made sure of it—and guys had offered to help move furniture. Finn had somehow already planned a housewarming party that I absolutely did not agree to.
But now, standing on the porch of our house with boxes stacked in the living room and Grant carrying in the last of his stuff from his apartment, it felt real.
“That's the last of it,” Grant said, setting down a box labeledkitchen.
“Good. I'm exhausted.”
“You barely carried anything. Shoulder's still healing.”
“Exactly. I'm exhausted from supervising.”
He laughed and pulled me close, careful with my shoulder. “Come here.”
I went willingly, letting myself lean into him. We stood there on the porch with the ocean in the distance and the sound of waves underneath everything else.
“This is ours,” I said quietly.
“Yeah. It is.”
“I keep waiting for something to go wrong.”
“Nothing's going to go wrong.” His arms tightened around me. “We fought for this. We earned it.”
I pulled back to look at him. “I love you.”
