Page 111 of Slapshot Bride

He did not tell me. Of course, he did not tell me. In three weeks of drives and dinners and games, the man has not said I have a birthday coming. He was going to let it pass, fold it into the season.

I climb back into bed.

He reaches for me before I have my legs fully under the blanket. He doesn't open his eyes. His arm comes across my waist and pulls me against him, and he tucks his face into my hair, and he makes a small sleepy sound.

“Took too long in the bathroom.”

I smile.

“I’m here now.”

He hums.

I turn in his arms. His face is inches from mine, his eyes still closed.

I lean in and kiss his lips softly. His eyes slide open for a second, and he kisses me back.

“Happy birthday, Easton.”

Now, they fully open.

“H-how—”

“Your mom. She sent a text. I saw it when I returned from the bathroom.”

He looks at me. A slow, warm, still-half-asleep look. Then he pulls me tighter against his chest and kisses my hair, then my temple, and then my mouth, unhurried and quiet.

“Thank you.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Stay with me?”

My heart skips, chest tightening.

Stay with him? But with the way his eyes close, I realize he’s talking about staying in bed with him.

“I-I will.”

I do. For a while.

By the time I get up the second time, it is past one, and he's still out cold. Yesterday’s practice drained him, and it’s been that way for days, so I know he’ll be asleep for a while longer.

I ease out from under his arm, put on cotton shorts and a soft sweater from the closet that we now apparently share, and go downstairs.

I make a list.

Groceries. Chicken. Print shop. Frame. Team.

The team line is the one I stare at for a full minute. Then I pick up my phone, and I text Kai.

Me:

Hi Kai. This is Riley. Easton’s birthday is today. Seems he didn’t tell anyone. If you and a few of the guys want to come by later, I’m making dinner. No pressure. Please don't tell him I asked. — R.

The three dots start almost immediately.

Kai: