“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.
Epilogue - JAKE
The Best Kind of Overtime
The blender is louder than it needs to be.
It rattles against the counter like it has a personal grudge against my protein powder, and Bear sits two feet away, staring at it like he’s deciding whether today is finally the day he takes it down.
“Don’t,” I tell him.
His ears twitch.
The blender keeps going.
I kill the power and pour the recovery shake into a glass, leaning one hip against the kitchen island while the house hums quietly around me.
Soft music drifts down from upstairs. Something instrumental Talia likes when she’s getting ready.
There’s the faint creak of footsteps overhead. The muffled sound of a dresser drawer opening, then shutting. Bear’s collar jingles as he gets up, circles once, then flops dramatically onto the kitchen floor like he’s exhausted from supervising.
I take a drink of the shake, thinking back on the last few months.
I thought I had my life figured out.
Hockey. Routine. Control. Minimal emotional risk.
Then I woke up married in Vegas to Coach Petrov’s daughter, assuming it was the biggest disaster of my life.
I take another sip and shake my head slightly. I was so clueless back then.
Footsteps come down the stairs.
And there it is. That same stupid, overwhelming feeling I get every time I look at her.
She’s wearing a fitted black dress that skims over her body, elegant and simple, the fabric soft against her waist. If you didn’t know, you’d never guess anything had changed yet.
But I know.
Her hair falls in soft waves over one shoulder and for jewelry she’s wearing the ring I gave her.
She smiles the second she sees my face.
“What?” she asks, amused.
“You look good,” I say, because my brain can only handle one thought at a time and that one wins.
Her smile softens. “Thanks.”
I slide one hand around her waist and let the other rest against her stomach automatically.
“How’s the rookie doing today?” I murmur, bending to kiss her.
She rolls her eyes exactly the way I knew she would. “If you call our child the rookie in public, I’m leaving you.”
I kiss her again, because threatening to leave me isn’t as scary when she’s smiling.
Talia smooths a hand over my chest and looks up at me like I hung the moon. “Katia texted,” she says. “She’s on her way. She says traffic is ‘personally attacking her,’ but she’ll be here before we have to leave.”
