Page 112 of Golden Goal

I lean down and kiss her. We get lost in each other for who knows how long, and I’m thinking about asking her if she wants to take this to the bedroom when a loud commotion starts in the hallway. We spring apart and hop to our feet, then go over to the front door.

I peek through the peephole and see two uniformed police officers standing in the hallway.

“Miss, can we help you? We got a noise complaint,” one of the officers says.

“No, I’m fine.” She waves a hand at the door of my old apartment. “This is my fiancé’s apartment. He must be asleep. I forgot my keys.”

What the actual fuck?

“Miss,” the other officer says. “This apartment is vacant.”

Kat whirls around, jabbing a finger at him. “No, it’s not. I know where he lives.”

“Miss, I’m going to ask you to leave.”

She crosses her arms, glaring at them. “I’m not leaving until I see my fiancé. See.” She shakes her hand at the officers. “This diamond ring says otherwise. It was his grandmother’s. She was all too happy for me to have it as an engagement ring.”

“Holt,” Becca whispers.

“It’s not my grandmother’s. Good grief, she is not okay.”

“Miss,” the officer starts.

“He’s a professional hockey player, you know. He plays locally. He won’t be too happy to hear you’re accosting me.” She’s shouting now.

The officers exchange looks, and I brace myself for what I know is coming.

“Ma’am, this is the last time we’re going to ask you to please leave the premises. You’re trespassing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Please put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest.”

“You can’t arrest me. I’m not doing anything wrong,” Kat bellows, lunging for the officer.

I’ve seen enough. I’m sure this isn’t the last time we’ll have to deal with Kat, but at least she’s not our problem now, and there’s evidence of her behavior.

Turning away from the door, I reach for Becca’s hand.

“Come on, let’s go back into the living room, sweetheart.”

She lets me lead her away. I can’t believe I used to date Kat. What the hell was I thinking? I don’t know what is going on with her, but I hope she gets the help she needs.

“Thank you,” I blurt out, pausing in the middle of the room.

“What? Why are you thanking me?

“For loving me. For helping me heal. And not just my physical injuries, but my mental ones, too.” I run a hand through my hair, pulling on the back of my neck, and rock back on my heels. “I never said thank you.” I give her a small smile.

“I should be thanking you too, you know. You helped heal me, too.”

I reach for her, and she comes willingly into my arms.

“I love you, Dr. Rebecca Jansen. You’re it for me. There’s no one else I want to spend my life with but you.”

She grins at me. “I love you too, Holt Abbott. I can’t imagine my life without you and Hazel in it.”

“Good.” I lean down and kiss her, the happiest I’ve been in a really, really long time.