Page 102 of Trade It All

“I vow to love all of it.” My voice trembles but stays strong. “The heavy days. The hard losses. The nights you think youfailed someone. The moments you forget that you are allowed to put your own heart down and rest.”

His breathing is wrecked now.

“I vow to be your safe place too.” That one breaks him. His eyes squeeze shut. I keep going.

“I vow to love you when you are fierce and when you are tired. When you are certain and when you are doubting. When the whole world wants Coach Dean…” my smile wobbles, “…and when you just need to be mine.”

A soft cry leaves the bride. Dean laughs through tears.

“I vow that you will never carry life alone again either.” I squeeze his hands tighter. “Because you taught me what home feels like, and I plan to spend the rest of my life making sure you feel it too.”

My lips tremble.

“And I vow to choose this kind of love every single day. The kind that feels safe. The kind that feels warm. The kind that feels like home instead of war.”

I am crying too hard to care now.

“I vow to spend the rest of my life reminding every scared version of me that she made it.” I smile through tears. “She made it to you.”

His forehead drops to mine. I hear the officiant sniffle. And somewhere far away Las Vegas is still glittering outside.

But in here—in this tiny chapel—I know one thing with absolute certainty.

Happy endings are real.

And mine is holding my hands.

Chapter 40

Dean

Icannotremembereverbeing this crazy. I also cannot remember ever being this happy.

Those two things should probably concern me more than they do.

Instead, I am lying in a pile of tangled hotel blankets with my wife curled into my side, Vegas sunrise barely bleeding through the curtains, and all I can think is that if this is insanity then I never want to be sane again.

My wife.

Jesus. Even thinking it does something violent to my chest. Last night plays in flashes behind my eyes every time I blink.

The tiny chapel. Her tear-streaked face. The way her voice shook when she promised to love every side of me.

The kiss after the officiant pronounced us husband and wife that felt less like a kiss and more like every scattered part of me finally snapping into place.

Then us stumbling back here laughing, crying, kissing, touching, sayingwe really did thatevery ten minutes like two lunatics.

I should maybe be worried. Should maybe be thinking about the fact that we made a life-altering decision in the middle of Vegas on a hockey road trip after only a couple months of stolen nights and adjoining hotel rooms.

I should maybe be bracing for Maddie to wake up, blink at me, and realize she married a complete psychopath.

Too bad. Because even if she does—I’m not letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

I tighten my arm around her sleeping body and press my mouth to the top of her head before carefully reaching for my phone on the nightstand.

There is one thing I can control immediately. Housing. My penthouse suddenly feels like the dumbest place on earth.

Too public. Too many cameras. Too many elevators. Too many ways for people to watch her come and go.