The rest of the drive was quiet. Derek drifted in and out, lulled by the motion of the car and the warmth of the heated seats. At some point, my hand found his, our fingers threading together across the center console.
He squeezed gently. I squeezed back.
I didn’t let go until we reached the apartment.
???
Getting him from the car to his bed was another production entirely.
He was more asleep than awake by the time I parked in the garage and I had to half carry, half drag him to the elevator. The doorman gave me a curious look but didn’t say anything. Small mercies.
“Almost there,” I murmured as we stumbled down the hallway. “Come on, just a few more steps.”
“Tired,” he mumbled against my shoulder.
“I know. You can sleep soon.”
Aspen was waiting at the door, tail wagging, oblivious to the fact that his daddy was currently higher than a kite. I nudged him aside with my foot and guided Derek toward the bedroom.
He collapsed onto the mattress with a groan. I unlaced his shoes and pulled them off, then tugged the covers up over him.
He looked different like this. Young. Unguarded. The Derek I usually saw was steady and sure—the leader who kept his teammates calm during a losing streak, the mentor who alwaysknew the right thing to say, the man who held me together when I was falling apart. He never faltered. Never cracked.
But this Derek—loopy and vulnerable—was something else entirely. Something I’d never seen before. He mumbled something about loving my hair and burrowed into the pillow like a child, and I felt something shift in my chest.
He took care of everyone. Always. And now, for once, I got to take care of him.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed the hair back from his forehead. His skin was warm under my fingers.
“Sleep,” I said softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
His eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Mmkay, good, cause I love you.” He smiled—that dopey, drugged smile—and closed his eyes again.
I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead, lingering there for a moment, breathing him in. He smelled like antiseptic and that bergamot shower gel and something underneath that was justDerek.
Trust Saint Sully to love someone as fucked up as me. I wanted to blame his saviour complex—easier to believe he was trying to fix me than to accept he actually wanted me. But maybe I’d been wrong about him. Maybe Saint Sully wasn’t a saint at all. Just a man. A man who somehow saw something worth loving in all my sharp edges and jagged pieces, even when I couldn’t see it myself.
“I love you too, you idiot,” I whispered against his skin.
He didn’t respond. He was already asleep, his breathing deep and even, his hand curled loosely around mine.
I stayed there for a long time, watching him sleep, letting the words settle into my bones.
I love you.
He’d said it like it was simple.
Maybe, with him, it could be.
47. Théo
The Maple Leaf Classic was held at the Carlton Centre—the same arena where I’d skated a dozen times, where I’d won my first senior national title, where I’d collapsed on the world stage and was carried off on a stretcher.
This building had seen me at my best. It had also seen me shatter.
