His eyes drift shut, pleasure washing over his face. When he opens them and they lock on mine, his blue eyes are glowing softly. “Thank you.”
The rest of the evening unfolds gently. Laughter. Sharing plates. By the time we get home to my place, all I want is Brennan. I ask him to stay after he opens the car door. He pulls me close and murmurs, “Yes. I want to be with you.”
Walking from his car to my building, the night is cool and quiet. His arm is wrapped around my waist. “This is the life I want,” he says.
“Here? In Willow Creek?”
“Anywhere with you.” His hand comes up, warm against my cheek. Underneath the stars, he kisses me. It’s not frenzied as it so often is when passion overtakes us. It’s soft and careful.
It’s the kind of kiss that lingers because it’s full of future promises.
When we pull apart, his forehead rests briefly against mine.
“Are you ready to go upstairs?” he murmurs.
“Yes, Bren.”
I watch light flare in his eyes before he guides me up the walkway. Looping my arm around his waist, my heart is full in a way that feels right.
This is our chance for a real win.
With each other.
36
ROYAL ROAD PASS: A PASS ACROSS THE CENTER LINE THAT FORCES GOALIE MOVEMENT
I’m astounded when Amy invites me to Thanksgiving with her parents.
We’re sitting in my living room. I have her wrapped up in my arms, her back to my chest. Her arms are folded loosely over mine, like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Mom’s making enough food for twenty on Thursday,” she says, like it’s an offhand detail.
“You said she always does.”
“I asked if I could bring you.”
I freeze, unable to believe the step she’s initiating. Sure, I met Amy’s parents during college, but a holiday? This is big.
It reminds me of how I was going to take her to Ireland to meet my family. An idea forms in my mind, but I set it aside to give her an answer. “I’d love to.”
“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I say immediately.
Her expression morphs into one of quiet hope. “I’m glad.” There’s still concern evident, which I ask her about. She winces, “Let’s just say you were invited with cautious acceptance. I don’t know how Dad’s going to behave.”
“It will be fine. Just let me know what to bring.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Thanks for the help.” I tickle her and she bursts into gales of laughter. The sound sends shivers up and down my spine. Finally, Amy relents. “Bring something for dessert. That never goes down poorly.”
“That, I can manage.” I lean down and press a kiss to her lips. Even upside down, I feel the current between us. “Thank you for the invite, my queen.”
“Thank you for saying yes.” After that, we settle in to watch the sun disappear from view.
Over the course of the week, my nerves spike higher than they did before my last Stanley Cup final. I contact Dr. Halverson for an emergency session. At one point, I roll my eyes at him, “I deserve a refund if all you’re going to do is laugh at me.”
