Page 75 of Slapshot Bride

We don’t move for a long time. He breathes against me, his face still in the crook of my neck. And I hold him tightly, not wanting the moment to come to an end.

Eventually, he pulls away and looks at my face.

He's the first to speak.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

He laughs, softly.

We don’t say anything else for a while. His thumb moves slowly back and forth at the bare skin of my shoulder.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand.

I ignore it.

It buzzes again. The screen lights up against the wood.

Easton’s head turns. He glances at it but doesn’t reach for it.

I tip my head back to look at him.

“Who is it?”

“Your mother.”

My stomach drops. “What does it say?”

He's quiet for a second.

“I only read the preview. It says something about the wedding venue refund having been processed. And that the family needs to discuss the situation properly.”

I look at the ceiling.

The phone buzzes a third time.

I don’t look. I close my eyes again, put my cheek back against Easton’s chest, find his hand on the blanket, and slide my fingers through his.

“Not today.”

He murmurs his agreement.

“Shower with me?”

“Yes, please.”

Minutes later, he rises to his feet, still holding me to his hips, and walks us to the bathroom to clean up.

15

EASTON

Over My Dead Body

Practice runs long today. With preseason games lined up, and the major ones around the corner, we’re on a tight schedule.

Coach Brennan adds a third power play drill at the end of an already full session, and by the time I’m off the ice and out of the locker room, it's closer to six than five.