Page 82 of Worth the Shot

My hand moves without thinking, sliding along her jaw, settling at the back of her neck, holding her there.

“You can tell me anything, Laney. Whatever you’re thinking. I can handle it,” I assure her, even though I’m not fully convinced myself.

A second passes. Maybe two. Her fingers tighten in my shirt, and I can tell she’s holding on to something she’s not sure she’s ready to say out loud.

“I think I love you, Brennan.”

It’s barely a whisper. Quiet enough that it feels like it belongs just to us. Loud enough that my heart hears it like she shouted it.

I stare at her longer than I should without saying anything. This moment is going to be burned into my memory for the rest of my life. Everything that led me here, every wrong turn and broken piece that somehow brought me to her, fades into something that finally makes sense.

I can’t think of a single heartbreak I’ve ever carried that those words, coming from her, couldn’t fix in an instant.

She loves me.

Delaney Collins loves me, and I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve it, but I’ll spend every single day making sure I do.

My hand stays at the back of her neck, my thumb tracing slow, steady lines along her jaw as my other arm tightens around her, pulling her further into me like I can’t quite get her close enough.

“Oh, Laney…” My voice comes out softer than I expect, barely above a whisper, but I don’t stop. I couldn’t if I tried. “Baby, I am so in love with you. So completely, ridiculously in love with every single thing about you…the way your brain works, the way you see the world, how beautiful that mind of yours is even when you don’t give yourself credit for it.”

I pull her to me, my nose brushing against hers as I smile like a drunken fool.

“I could get drunk off you, Laney. The way you smell, the way you feel when I’m close to you…”

Her smile is uncontrollable and so easy it makes my heart feel like it’s going to explode.

“And the way you let me in…even when it’s hard, even when I know every instinct in you is telling you to pull back…you still choose me. You still stay.”

Her smile breaks open, bright and uncontrollable, and when a tear slips down her cheek, I catch it with my tongue without thinking, my lips finding hers a second later.

I lean back, pushing the seat as far as it’ll go, pulling her into my lap without ever breaking the kiss, like the only thing that matters right now is keeping her right here with me.

After what feels like forever and not nearly long enough at the same time, she finally pulls back, resting her head against my chest as she lets out the softest, most content sigh I’ve ever heard.

“I love you, Brennan.”

The smile that spreads across my face feels bigger than anything I’ve ever known. Even in the tight, cramped space of my truck, it’s like everything inside me lifts at once and I’m weightless. Nothing in the world could touch this moment.

Not even Matthew Morris.

After a good night’s sleep, Delaney’s head on my chest and my arms wrapped around her, I wake up feeling ready. Ready to take on whatever the day throws at me and more than ready to face the dipshit who walked away from everything I could have ever wanted. I drifted off with her muttering quiet “I love yous” against my skin, and I woke up still feeling them there.

I left her asleep in my bed, wrapped up in my sheets, hoping that when I crawl back into them later, they’ll still smell like her.

I pull up to Shayne’s place and he’s already waiting outside. He slides into the passenger seat, handing me a coffee, and the second he gets in, I can tell he’s in a mood. And when Shayne Bennett is in a mood, good luck.

“Morning, sunshine,” I say, a little more upbeat than usual.

“Good morning,” he replies, completely unimpressed. “Let’s get the next hour and a half over with.”

We talk hockey because it’s safe. Power play setups, getting pucks deep, forechecking patterns. I know exactly what’s bothering him. It’s the same thing that’s been bouncing around my own head, too.

Except now, I’m not worried. Just protective over her and everything we’ve built.

When we pull into the rink lot, it’s already half-full. Everyone’s early and buzzing, and suddenly the nerves hit. I chug the rest of the caffeine, clinging onto whatever hope it provides as far as my anxiety goes, and tell myself I’m ready.

Inside the locker room, the guys are all circled up, talking loud, shoving each other and laughing. Bobby, the rookie who still looks like a baby deer on skates, is staring up at Morris like he’s the patron saint of glove saves. Wes notices me walk in and he breaks away from the group immediately, uncrossing his arms as he heads over.