“Okay,” Jacob whispered.
Tane squeezed once—gentle, reassuring—then dropped his hand.
“Come on,” Tane said. “Let’s get home before we freeze.”
They started walking again, slower now. After another block Jacob’s pinky brushed the back of Tane’s hand—subtle, testing. Tane hooked their fingers together without hesitation, grip firm but hidden between their bodies.
No one was around to see.
The streetlights stretched their shadows long and thin across the pavement.
They didn’t speak much on the way back. They didn’t need to.
The apartment building rose ahead of them, windows glowing softly against the night. Tane thumbed the fob at the lobby door; the lock clicked open. They rode the elevator in silence, shoulders touching, fingers still laced.
When the doors slid open on their floor, Tane paused in the hallway.
“You good?” Tane asked. “After our chat…”
Jacob looked up at him—eyes clearer now, fear still there but quieter.
“Yeah,” Jacob answered. “I’m good. As long as I’m with you.”
Tane leaned in and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Jacob’s forehead.
“Then let’s go inside,” Tane murmured. “We need to get some sleep. We’ve got another round coming. And Tremaine will be going all out on our asses. If you don’t get your rehab done, there will be hell to pay, and I’ll be in the firing line for that too!”
Jacob smiled—small, real—and squeezed Tane’s hand once more before letting go.
Whatever was ahead for them on the ice, or whatever the Cardinis or the FBI or anyone else threw their way, they would face it all side by side.
Chapter 26
Jacob
Jacob woke to the soft gray light filtering through the bedroom blinds and the steady rhythm of Tane’s breathing against his neck.
No alarm.
No headache.
No sour taste in his mouth or vague regret about shots he didn’t remember taking.
Just warm sheets, Tane’s arm slung heavy across his waist, and the quiet satisfaction of a body that felt banged up from the ice rather than what happened in the hours and days that followed.
It was a new sensation, but one that Jacob felt he could get used to.
He shifted slightly, testing. His ribs still ached from the hit that had sent him off, but the sling was off now, the bruise fading to yellow at the edges. Nothing broken. Nothing torn. Just the good kind of sore that reminded him he’d fought for every inch of that win.
Tane stirred behind him, tightening his hold for a second before loosening again.
Jacob felt the scratch of stubble against his shoulder blade, then a low, sleepy rumble.
“Morning,” Tane muttered, half-asleep.
Jacob smiled into the pillow. “Morning.”
They lay like that for a while—limbs tangled, breathing synced, the city waking slowly beyond the windows.
