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An anchor dropped in the middle of a storm that had been raging since the day I first followed him into the gym.
The tension left his body as he melted into me, his arm wrapping around my waist to pull me flush against him. He kissed me with an aching kind of reverence, a dizzying memory in the making. My heart felt dangerously full, a physical pang in my chest that had nothing to do with the freezing night.
We broke apart, breathless, and he buried his face in the crook of my neck.
The future was still a sprawling, uncertain mess, but it didn’t feel like a threat. We had each other, and as long as that were true, there was hope.
I leaned my head against his shoulder, watching our intertwined shadows stretch across the frosted deck. The season was over, the ink dry on the story that had brought us together, but standing here in the safety of his love, it felt as though our lives were only just beginning.
Epilogue
Trace
Dakota and I were up early. It was my first Christmas away from my family, and she wanted to make it really special. We hit the shops first thing and got some colored cardboard, glitter, glue, string, and anything else she could think of that could make DIY decorations for our little cardboard tree.
“What about aluminum foil?” she asked as we were making our way to the exit.
“To keep little green men from eavesdropping on our Christmas dinner?”
“Shut up.” She playfully slapped my chest. “To replace the tinsel.”
I looked down at the extensive selection she already had. “If we had a better tree, perhaps. But our one-foot tall cardboard cutout will collapse under all that weight.”
She looked slightly disappointed, and I couldn’t help but smile. Over the years, Christmas had become just another family day for me, but now, for the first time in the longest time, I had a reason to celebrate. Her. Dakota made it special. Even though it was just cheap whatnots and some glitter, it meant more to me than anything.
Shortly after we got home, the kitchen table was buried under an avalanche of cardstock, half-empty glue bottles, and enough glitter to ensure we’d be finding silver specks in the floorboards until next July. It was messy, it was cheap, and it was the happiest I’d ever been.
“You’ve got a little something...” Dakota murmured, reaching across the table.
But instead of cleaning my face, she streaked her thumb to smear sapphire-blue glitter across my cheekbone, laughing as it caught the light. I leaned into her touch, probably adding a few more shimmering fingerprints to my face in the process.
“Strategically placed,” I said, a grin tugging at my lips as I held up my masterpiece: a cardboard ornament that vaguely resembled a football, if you squinted and had a lot of imagination.
“It’s hideous,” she deadpanned, though her eyes were soft and bright. “I love it.”
The apartment was small, the heater clanking a suspicious beat in the corner. And our tree was held together by duct tape and hope.
“A lifetime of measuring my worth by scoreboard numbers and highlight reels,” I said, “and this is the first time I feel like I’m winning at something that actually matters.”
“Good.” She kissed the top of my head and got the coffee going.
We were covered in offcuts and glue, building a holiday out of nothing but scraps and each other. I looked at the glitter on my hands, then back at the woman who had rewritten my entire life.
“I love you.”
Dakota’s gaze snapped up from the cups she was preparing, and a slow smile crept onto her lips. “Damn right, you do.”
We fooled around with some more decor and small projects, until I couldn’t glue another bauble or string another set of lights.
“This is the best view,” she said, gesturing for me to join her in the middle of her apartment. “See?”
I did see, but I wasn’t looking around the way she was doing. Strings of colored lights lit up her face in a different way each time, catching the balls of glitter to dance in her eyes. I was the luckiest man on the planet.
“I know it’s not very traditional,” Dakota said as we sat down to our Chinese takeout. “But I kinda thought we could start our own traditions.”
“Good food, Christmas music, homemade decorations, and the most vicious journalist on the planet… What more could I possibly ask for?”
She gave me a dazzling smile, and if I weren’t already sitting on the floor, it would’ve brought me to my knees. She had the weirdest way of saying or doing something so simple that still tugged on my heartstrings hours later.
