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“I brought you lunch.”

Her eyes soften, but her blush remains. “Oh my gosh, you did? That’s so thoughtful. I planned on eating a—”

I hold one hand up, cutting her off. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” With my other hand, I hold up the takeout bag.

Her eyes widen in surprise for a second before they narrow. “Ronda.”

She snatches the bag from me and peeks inside, stepping out of the way of the double doors so they can close automatically behind her. Andie opens the bag and gasps. “Bacon, lettuce, tomato? That’s my favorite. And barbecue chips? Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

This time I blush. I’d never allowed myself to imagine that anyone would fall in love with me, or that I was even capable of falling in love myself. But suddenly, it doesn’t sound so bad.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I was just teas—” I cut her off mid-sentence again, but this time I do it by pressing my lips to hers.

Not a bad way to shut her up, actually. I could get used to this. She softens instantly and melts into me. I wrap my arms around her waist and she does the same to me. She ends our kiss, giving me a cute smile, before laying her head on my chest and squeezing me. We stand there holding each other, and I realize… she's hugging me. An affectionate, comfortable feeling envelops me. This is the hug I’ve waited for all my life. Right here, with this girl. A hug that makes up for a lifetime of not being held, not being loved, not being enough. This is the hug to end all hugs.

But I definitely want more hugs in the future, and only from this woman.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough hugs after this.

I decide right in this moment, that if by some miracle I ever have children, I will hug them, and hug them often. What a simple, but life-changing gesture.

Kissing is great… epic… amazing. But hugs are severely underrated.

CHAPTER 27

ANDIE

I have never, in my twenty-six years of life, had a man bring me lunch at work. It was the most thoughtful gesture. And knowing he has a game tonight, it means even more that he made the time to do that for me.

They say food is the way to a man’s heart, but I’m pretty sure they meant a nurse's heart.

After Mitch left, the other nurses—male and female—were in a tizzy about seeing a professional athlete. The girls want me to hook them up with his teammates, and the guys want to know if I can get them good seats at any of the games. I tell them no, on both fronts, and go on about my day. We don’t have much time to chitchat in the ICU anyway.

At the end of my shift, I have to catch up on charting that I was too busy to do during the day, and don’t make it home until eight thirty. When I walk inside, Noah is on the couch with the game already on. He’s wearing his new jersey and baseball cap and munching on popcorn. He looks up when I enter the room and smiles. “Hey, you missed Mitch’s goal.”

“Dang it!” I plop down onto the couch beside him and grab a handful of popcorn. “So he’s playing well?”

“Really good. And only one penalty, but it was a stupid call.”

I breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn’t a fight or anything crazy. All players get penalties once in a while. Peeking at the score in the top left corner of the television, I see that the Eagles are ahead 4-2 in the second period. A guy on the opposing team fakes out Colby and breaks away toward the Eagles’ net. He shoots the puck right into the corner. Poor Bruce. Now the score is nearly tied and I find myself scooting to the edge of my seat on the couch, focusing on the plays. My eyes are pinging back and forth as I keep them firmly on the puck flying across the ice.

Noah snorts a laugh and I look over my shoulder to see him watching me. “Never thought I’d see you get so into a hockey game.”

Forcing myself to relax and lean back, I respond, “You and me both.”

There’s a line change and Mitch skates onto the ice. A grin spreads across my face as I watch him. His movements on the ice are brutal and beautiful, and I can’t take my eyes off of him.

Before I can stop it, a sappy sigh escapes my lips and Noah groans. “Oh, my gosh. You’re ruining hockey for me.”

I shove him and steal the popcorn bowl.

“Hey!” he yells, grabbing for the bowl. “Hockey is my thing. Don’t make it gross with all your lovey-dovey crap.”

Giving up the popcorn bowl, I gasp and bring a hand to my chest. “Noah Gregory Downsby! Sassy jar!”

“Crap is not a swear word.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” I tease.