I let my fingers drift along the curve of her spine, slow and aimless, just needing the feel of her against me. Her skin was soft, warm, grounding. I looked down at her—hair a mess, lips still kissed-red, that post-storm glow in her cheeks—and it hit me all over again: this woman had been in my head for months. And now? She was here. Real. Tangled up in my sheets and in my life.
I could’ve stayed like that forever.
“Next time,” I said, my voice low but firm, “you tell me.”
She didn’t answer right away, just shifted slightly against me. I waited, needing her to hear me. Needing her to get it.
“I don’t care if the world’s burning—I want to burn with you.”
She looked up, those brown eyes locking on mine like they always did—sharp and soft all at once. I saw the hesitation there. The fear. The weight of everything we hadn’t said. But then it faded, and she nodded, just once.
“Okay,” she whispered.
That one word hit me harder than any slapshot ever could.
She’d chosen me. Not just in bed—but in this. In the wreckage and the mess and the fallout.
Relief and protectiveness warred in my chest. I wanted to keep her like this—safe, quiet, mine. But the world outside hadn’t changed. The headlines would still twist the truth. Gary’s shadow still stretched long. And none of that vanished just because we’d torn down every wall between us tonight.
I kissed her forehead, slow and lingering, trying to hold onto the calm before everything outside found its way back in. My arms tightened around her.
She shifted again, her voice soft. “What are you thinking?”
I hesitated, then gave her the truth—well, most of it.
“Just… how far we’ve come,” I said, keeping my voice even. “And how far we still have to go.”
She lifted her head enough to look at me fully, her brows drawn tight with worry. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Her voice steadied me more than I’d expected. Just that one word—together—and something in me clicked back into place.
We’d already weathered so much. This? We could face it too. I believed that.
Still… some part of me couldn’t relax. Not fully. Not yet.
“Yeah,” I murmured, eyes locked on hers. “Together.”
She settled against me, soft and warm, and for a moment the world quieted. I let myself imagine it—what it would be like when this was all behind us. No reporters camped outside. No whispers in locker rooms. No Gary casting a shadow over every breath she took. Just… us.
But that fantasy cracked as fast as it formed. Reality had sharp edges. And Gary? He wasn’t done. I could feel it like a cold current under my skin.
He’d already hurt her once. Manipulated her. Watched her fall apart and smiled through it. If he even thought about trying again…
No. I wouldn’t let it happen.
I tightened my hold on her, my hand spreading across her back like I could shield her from everything.
She deserved peace. Not this media circus. Not to live in fear of what might crawl out of her past next.
I’d carry the weight. I’d fight the battles. I’d take the hits.
Because she was worth every fucking one of them.
As long as we were in this together, I’d keep her safe.
And if the world tried to tear us down?
Then let it burn.
