A smile tugs at my lips. “Antonio’s?”
He breaks into a matching expression. “It’s tradition.”
My damn traitorous heart flutters. “Yeah, it is.”
An hour later, we sneak into the house, a pie between us, and tiptoe up to the roof. Still tipsy, moving through the house silently is not an easy feat. The moment we hit the cool October night, we burst into laughter.
“Made it.” I rush to the couch, ravenous, the smell of the greasy pizza making my stomach rumble.
JJ snags a blanket from the bench seat and hands it to me, then he settles at my side, and when I open the box, we both lean in, inhaling.
“God,” I groan. “Why does it smell so good?”
Chuckling, he picks up a slice and takes a huge bite.
I snag my own piece and close my eyes, letting the taste really hit me. Suddenly we’re sixteen again, celebrating after our first win on the same team. Or eighteen, when JJ was drafted to the Bolts and rather than going out with his friends or celebrating with a puck bunny, he wrapped an arm around me and said we had plans. Or the night of his twenty-first birthday when he ditched everyone at midnight so the two of us could spend it together.
So many memories, so many moments I’ve tried so hard to forget.
I swipe a finger against my lip, wiping at the grease, and set the pizza back in the box. “Thank you.”
He arches a brow. “For what?”
“For letting it go. I would have been sad if we couldn’t celebrate like this tonight.”
He drops his slice next to mine and shifts so he’s angled my way. “No matter what happens between us, I never want to go back to the way things were. I can’t miss another four years of your life.”
I nod, my throat thick. “Then let’s make a deal. No more icing each other out.”
“I never wanted that,” he says. “I never wanted to lose you.”
I know. Unfortunately, neither of us could have anticipated what happened the morning after Team USA won gold.
TWENTY-EIGHT
JJ
Twenty-One Years Old
When I wakeup with Adeline’s warm body pressed against mine, I swear I must be dreaming. For almost a year, I slept by her side, and I can’t count how many mornings I’d wake up at three thirty so her family wouldn’t catch us. After my alarm went off, I’d give myself a few minutes to watch her sleep, wondering what she would do if I pulled her into me. Wondering how soft her lips would be. Wondering what she’d taste like.
Now I know.
Unable to resist, I press my lips to hers. Her mouth slants into a smile. “Morning.”
“Good morning, baby.”I press another kiss to her lips.
She sighs. It’s this soft, sweet sound. Her eyes are still closed, but she looks so damn happy. Just like I feel. Content. Like we can breathe easy for the very first time. For so long I held my breath around her or tempered my words, hoping like hell I wouldn’t admit how I felt and screw it all up.
She was my best friend. The only person I could be honest with when everything in my life felt so precarious. I was too scared to rock that boat. Even after my mom was in remission. We’d only justcelebrated five years cancer free. We’d already done this dance before, though. We’d made it years without a recurrence, and then they’d found another mass. My mother was the center of our family’s universe. I couldn’t voice how it felt like my chest was being squeezed tight at the thought of losing her. But Adeline knew. She knew it without me even having to say it. She’d see me spiraling and hit me with a round of two truths and a lie. Or she’d link our pinkies and squeeze. Or she’d challenge me to a round on the ice. She always knew when I needed that distraction. When I needed her.
And when I was younger, the thought of risking that type of bond for the chance at something more felt selfish. It felt like taking the one thing the universe had given me to help me deal with my mom’s diagnosis and sayingthis is great, but it’s not enough.
Adeline has always been enough. Even when she wasn’t completely mine.
But the day she called about the Olympics, the way she sounded when she discovered there was a woman in my room—someone who meant absolutely nothing—it was the first time I thought she might want more too.
And I realized that my fear was hurting her. I never wanted to hurt her. And I’d risk losing everything to avoid that.
