Page 130 of Hard to Handle

They really did it.

I can’t take my eyes off Hunter as he breaks free from the pack and skates over to the edge of the rink that’s closest to the box seats where his parents are seated. He stands there and points to the booth where Jonah sits in his chair, and I don’t have to see Hunter’s face to know that tears are streaking down his cheeks are elation, relief, and everything mixed in between.

He won Jonah his Stanley Cup. The one promise he could fulfill . . . he did.

I don’t even realize tears are sliding down my own cheeks as I watch Hunter begin to search the arena, his lips moving as he reads the huge section numbers painted on the walls until he finds mine. It takes him a second but when he finds me, the look he gives me is one I’ll never forget.

“We did it,” he mouths, and all I can do is nod and watch him shine in the moment of his life.

He’s quickly engulfed by reporters and teammates and his attention is diverted, but my heart is full beyond measure.

My attention shifts to the box seats where Hunter’s family is seated. To where it’s ventured numerous times tonight. To the man standing at its edge with his arms crossed over his chest in a formidable stance, but with a hand that’s lifted a white tissue to dab beneath his eyes.

My anger is still there at Hunter’s dad, it still burns bright. I don’t think I will ever find it in me to forgive him for the years of agony Hunter experienced at the hand of his father. Perhaps a better woman would forget and forgive.

I’m not her.

But where does that leave us? By protecting the man I love and this man—his father—taking a step forward, when for so long he’s refused to budge?

I’m not sure how to process his presence tonight as I make my way down the edge of the rink, but one thing keeps repeating in my mind. He showed up. He took a first step. He’s the one crying, watching one son reach the pinnacle of his sport and fulfill a promise he made to his twin.

Maybe my words hit home.

Maybe this might change things.

Only time will tell.

I make my way to edge of the rink, wanting, needing to be closer to Hunter. Closer to the man I love.

Just as I get there, when I’m as close as I can possibly be while the TV networks are getting everything set up for the presentation of the Cup, Hunter skates over to where I am.

“You,” he shouts and points to me as he climbs on the team bench so he can reach over the plexiglass partition. “Let her down here,” he says to all the fans screaming for his attention.

It takes a few moments before fans realize what he’s asking, so I can make my way to the seats right by the team bench. I climb up on the seat of the stands so I’m tall enough to be pulled into the arms that Hunter engulfs me in. His lips are on mine in a kiss that is one of pure jubilation.

“We did it, Dekk! We fucking did it!”

He reaches down to the back of his pants where he’s obviously tucked something and produces a LumberJacks hat and places it squarely on my head.

I throw my head back and laugh, and then have to hold it to my head when I almost lose it.

“It’s a good look on you,” he shouts above the fray.

“I’m so proud of you,” I tell him and kiss him one more time. “Now go celebrate with your team.”

He steps down off the bench but his eyes still hold mine, and the goofy grin on his face tells me he’s struggling to take this all in.

“I love you,” he mouths.

“I love you more,” I say, my words drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the Stanley Cup is carried out onto the ice.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

HUNTER

Dad: Congratulations.

I STARE AT THE TEXT just delivered to my phone and then back across the room where my dad is standing against the wall with his cell in his hand but his eyes locked on mine.