I take the bag of goat cheese and honey from Tate and hand it to Jace. “Can you go add these things to the gift basket? I’ve got to kiss your brother again.”
“Gross,” Jace mutters but he wanders off toward the gift basket table by the stage.
I wrap my arms around his neck as his circle my waist. “Wow. Your speech was almost as good as mine.”
“Almost?” I blink. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Just shut up and kiss me, Firecracker,” Tate says.
“So bossy,” I whisper back and shake my head in mock judgement. But then I do exactly what he demands and I kiss him, long and slow, because the fight—at least for this Adler and this Todd—is finally over.
24
Tate
Eight Months Later…
I roll down the window and take a long, deep breath. The sweet, humid Vermont summer air fills my lungs. I close my eyes and exhale then lean the other way and inhale my other favorite scent—Maggie Todd. She giggles and squirms when I nuzzle her neck, her silky copper hair sliding against my cheek and jaw. “Stop it! I’ll drive us into the ditch.”
I let out a disgruntled huff. “Whose dumb idea was it to do this again?”
“Mine. And shut up,” she says smiling. “Work doesn’t stop just because you’ve been drafted, Tater Tot.”
The draft was held in Toronto three days ago, which was lucky because it’s close enough that we could afford a bunch of plane tickets so my mom and dad and Jace and Maggie could all be there with me. I knew from all the sports agents calling me nonstop over the last couple of months and Coach Keller’s opinion at the end of the season that I might go in the top fifty. But first round, thirteenth overall? Shit, that crushed even my wildest dreams.
She pats my knee. “Farm work will keep you humble.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I grab her hand and hold on to it, then I tilt my head out the window and take another deep breath. “Brooklyn isn’t going to smell this good.”
“Nope, but it’s only a five hour and forty-seven minute drive or a one hour and fourteen minute flight,” Maggie says, and although her face is placid and calm, I know from the accuracy of that statement that she has done a lot of thinking about this too in the last three days.
If and when I ever do make it on the ice for Brooklyn, she will likely stay here. At least to start. We’ve got our families talking again and we’ve even started helping each other out with farm work, when needed – lending equipment or a hand for stuff as required. A merge of the farms is definitely on the table. Right now both our dads, her uncles and even Louise and Raquel are onboard. It’s just Clyde who vehemently opposes it and my gramps and gran… step-gran that is, who are leery. But by the time we graduate I think it will be a done deal. And that kind of scares the shit out of me but she can’t run a farm from Brooklyn, and Maggie this idea is her baby so how can I ask her to leave it? Luckily, I don’t have to worry about that immediately since I’ve decided to stay in school and keep playing for Moo U, at least for the next year. Our farm is still struggling a little, but not as much as it was, and we’ve managed to fix the barn and the cider press and have started selling our cider again.
I take her hand I’m holding and slide it up my thigh. “I wanted to spend the day in bed with you getting over jet lag.”
I’ve been unofficially living in her rental apartment all summer with her and her roommates. They don’t mind the extra body because I do almost all the cleaning, but not in my underwear anymore, thankfully. Maggie laughs as she turns onto the road that leads to our farms. “There’s no time difference between here and Toronto, so no jet lag. And yes, both farms need our help today and you know it. But if you play your cards right, later I’ll sneak you into the barn and take care of this.”
Her hand moves to the front of my jeans and she palms my cock through the denim and it starts to spring to life—and then stops immediately as she drives up my farm’s driveway and I see the big banner strung up on the front porch.
Congratulations Tate!
“You ambushed me!” I gasp as I see the field that leads to the orchard filled with people and picnic tables with balloons tied to them. Everything is in the Brooklyn team colors. She parks the car and her amber eyes glint deviously. “Ambush is better than blackmail isn’t it?”
She hops out of the car and I follow. As soon as my feet hit the dirt, the crowd erupts. Everyone is here; Hank, Maggie’s entire family, my family, the coaches from the team, some of the players who live within driving distance or stayed in town for the summer, and—my step stutters—our grandmothers.
They’re standing next to Daisy and Jace, as far from my grandfather and grandmother as possible, but they’re here and no one is brawling. That’s progress.
Maggie grabs my hand and pulls me forward. “Everyone wanted to celebrate with you. And everyone promised to play nice. Except Clyde, so he’s at home.”
God I wish that old man would get with the program. Thankfully, he won’t be selling the farm because Betsy is still entitled to half of it, and she announced in their initial divorce proceedings that finally started a few months ago that she wanted Daisy and Maggie to have her half. Clyde doesn’t have the money to buy her half, but Betsy has the money to buy his half, so he has finally shut the hell up with that threat.
I hug everyone and take their congratulatory hugs back and then George fires up the grill and Jace turns on some music, and we have an honest to God party. It’s been a rough few months in the Adler and Todd homes as everyone adjusts to the truth. But my dad has started a relationship with Marty as have Jace and I, and Betsy is on civil terms with her sons too and great terms with Daisy and Maggie.
As much as I am thrilled to be drafted and hopefully play in the NHL for at least a few years, I’m going to miss this place and these people. Maggie leans in as we sit at a picnic table across from Daisy and Jace who are arguing about his musical choices. “Don’t look so wistful. You haven’t gone anywhere yet.”
“I know,” I say and kiss her cheek.
“You two are so cute,” Marty says with a smile as she sits next to me with a plate of different salads. Since I know she’s not a vegetarian, I think she’s too nervous to approach the grill because George is manning it. “I’m so proud of you, Tate. For the draft and for everything else.”
