Skye, who has been standing silent and observant, finally speaks. “She doesn’t need offers. She needs rest.”
Ollie turns the smile on her. “And she’ll get it. On a beach somewhere very secure. After we’ve negotiated from a position of strength.” She looks back at me. “Forty-five minutes. Don’t be late. I’ll be downstairs charming the police escort.” With a final nod, she’s gone, and the room is suddenly quieter in her wake.
The silence she left behind is charged.
Skye closes the distance between us. She doesn’t ask again how I am. She simply lifts a hand and brushes her knuckles ever so gently down the side of my face, trying her best to avoid the bruises. Her touch is warm, grounding.
“You sang well,” she whispers.
“I had a good reason to finish the song.”
Her dark eyes hold mine. The intensity in them isn’t about the game, the medal, or the threat. It’s about the dock, the water, and the breaths I didn’t take. It’s a look that sees the cracks and promises to stand guard over them.
She leans in, and her lips meet mine. Not a demanding kiss, but a sealing of a promise. A confirmation of life. Her hand cradles the back of my head, and I melt into her, the last of the stadium’s adrenaline dissolving into a sweet, steady warmth.
“When you were mouthing words to me on stage,” I whisper into her mouth. “Did you say I love you?”
Skye smiles at my question, her lips warm from our kiss. “This isn’t some shitty romance book, Vi.”
My heart wants to shatter, but it doesn’t. Her telling me she loves me would probably send me running. I’ve only been away from Theo for three weeks, and I hardly think now is the time to be falling in love with someone else.
“But I would prefer you weren’t spending a lot of time on the beaches.” Her tone is like ice when she speaks. Like what she’s saying is final, and I need to be listening to her demands.
“I’m going to be careful—”
“I don’t want you on the beaches,” she repeats. “I want you at my condo.” She swallows. “I want you to move in with me.”
I go silent, feeling everything I had just thought turn on its axis.
“Violet?”
“I can’t feel my toes.”
She pulls back, just an inch, my own hand coming up and my fingers curling into the heavy nylon sleeve of her jacket. I clutch the fabric, feeling the crisp embroidery under my fingertips, anchoring myself in the reality of her.
The scent of clean cotton and ice, the solid strength of her shoulder under my palm.
“Is ‘I can’t feel my toes’code for yes?”
Ignoring the pain that’s coursing through my body, I latch myself onto Skye, holding her tight as though this will all disappear if I let go. Like I’ll wake up from a dream that I can’t quite call a nightmare.
With everything that went on here in Milan, I still managed to find Skye. I managed to get my secret out there without being killed, close one though, and I feel like all the weight I’ve been carrying is now at the bottom of the canal.
This isn’t a nightmare; it’s a beautiful, beautiful dream.
“Yes, it means yes.” My mouth presses into her neck.
She runs her hands down my arm and leans her forehead against mine, our breath mingling. “Forty minutes,” she murmurs, her voice vibrating against my skin.
“I know,” I breathe back, not letting go of her jacket.
“My team will help pack your stuff and get you moved in.”
I laugh. “I will pay movers to do that. But I’ll thank them for being voluntold to do it, anyway.”
Now it’s Skye’s turn to laugh. A sound I haven’t heard since before she found out I was Solace. I’ve missed that.
“So...” She swings our hands in front of us. “Does this mean hockey is your favorite sport now?”
This question takes me back to the first time we actually talked. Texting and FaceTiming in our hotel rooms, swapping questions, and getting to know each other.
“Hardly.” A smile tugs at my lips as I tilt my chin up to look at her. “But I would pay good money to see you attempt a couples skate in a sparkly leotard.”
Skye leans in, kisses me softly, and has me cackling when she looks me dead in the eye and says, “Meatloaf.”
