“So.” She raised her glass slightly. “If you’re planning to be that place—be solid. Be consistent. That’s what he needs more than anything.”
“I will be.” The words came out rough but certain. “I know he’s not easy. I know there will be hard days. Days when he pulls away because it feels safer than letting someone stay.”
I turned my glass slowly on the table.
“But I’m not going anywhere. I don’t need him to be perfect. I just need him to let me show up.” I met her eyes. “That’s what I can offer. Consistency. Patience. Being there when he needs someone steady.”
Sabrina was quiet for a moment, studying me.
“He’s never had that before,” she said finally. “Someone who stuck around for the hard parts.”
“Then I’ll be the first.”
“Good. Because if you hurt him, they’ll never find your body.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m small but I’m scrappy.”
“Noted.”
We clinked glasses and something shifted between us—an understanding, an alliance. She then proceeded to grill me about hockey and whether I thought Avery had a future with the Frost. Her questions were more pointed and knowledgeable than I expected. I felt like I’d passed some kind of test.
“You ready for the game against Toronto tomorrow?” Sabrina asked as I settled the bill.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I’ll be there with Sharon.” She grinned. “I’ll try not to yell too many obscenities in front of their mom.
“She seems like she can handle it.”
“Oh, she can. That woman is steel.” Sabrina pulled on her coat. “Take care of yourself, Derek. And take care of him.”
“I will.”
She disappeared into the Toronto night and I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, breathing in the cold air.
Two more days until I was home. Two more days until I could hold him.
42. Théo
I had an early morning practice, took Aspen to the park for an extra long run as part of my off-ice conditioning—and to get him exhausted enough that I’d have the entire afternoon alone with his daddy. I made teriyaki salmon with sautéed broccoli and brown rice while I waited for Derek to return. Music played low from my phone, something mellow and acoustic, so when the key turned in the lock, I heard it.
I had a Pavlovian response to that sound. My heart rate kicked up, my skin prickled with anticipation. It didn’t help that when he turned the knob, the ribbon of bells Aspen used to let us know he needed to go outside rang like some kind of ceremonial announcement.
He’s home.
The thought hit me with a force that was almost embarrassing. Between my mom’s visit, then flying to Toronto to see Nico, then Derek leaving for another road trip—it felt like ages since we’d actually been alone together. That one night when I’d shown up at his door at 3 a.m., wrecked and sobbing, didn’t really count. I’d been a mess. He’d held me together. But it wasn’t the same as just... being with him. Without a crisis. Without tears.
And I’d been thinking about him constantly. Waking up, falling asleep, in the middle of practice when I should have been focusing on my edges. I’d never been like this before. Not withNico, not with anyone. The wanting had always been something I could compartmentalize, tuck away, keep at arm’s length.
With Derek, it just... lived in me. Constant. Unavoidable.
I didn’t know what to do with that.
I circled around the kitchen island just as Derek was setting down his bags. Aspen was so exhausted from our run that he hadn’t even lifted his head from his dog bed—just cracked one eye open, confirmed it was Derek, and went back to sleep.
Good boy. Excellent wingman.
I jumped into Derek’s arms. Actually jumped—feet leaving the ground with the same explosive push I used for takeoff, knees tucked, body lifting like muscle memory didn’t know the difference between a triple axel and throwing myself into his arms.
He laughed as he caught me, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine. His hands gripped my ass while I wrapped my legs around his waist, ankles crossing behind his back.
