Page 109 of Trade It All

I honestly thought I would be mad. Thought I would at least be irritated that he blew our quiet little bubble apart in the middle of pregame with every single Mustang watching.

But…I’m not. Not even a little.

Because if I’m being really honest with myself, there was a part of me that was relieved he did it. Relieved I didn’t have to figure out how to sit everyone down and explain why Dean and I disappeared every night together or why there are suddenly wedding bands sitting on his dresser.

Dean did it the way Dean does everything. Big. Unapologetic. A little feral.

It has been three days since the locker room reveal and somehow the sports channels haven’t picked it up yet. I keep waiting for ESPN Chicago or one of the local hockey bloggers to run with the headline that Coach Dean Kincade apparently made out with the social media girl before announcing she was his wife.

Nothing. Just silence. The guys haven’t said anything publicly either, which honestly shocks me more than the media.

Jake grinned and told me they’d keep it quiet for a little while if that’s what we wanted. Luka demanded to know why the hell he wasn’t invited to Vegas. Grady threatened Dean with bodily harm if he ever made me cry. Jasper asked if this meant he could stop pretending he had a chance.

So maybe they’re all behaving. For now. Tonight we don’t have practice. No game.

Just the annual Mustang fundraiser downtown where all the players, staff, spouses, and sponsors have to smile pretty and pretend they enjoy silent auction chicken.

Which means I need to get ready. Which means I need clothes. And makeup. And shoes. And all the things currently sitting at my apartment because despite the fact that I have spent every single night at Dean’s penthouse since Vegas, I technically still live somewhere else.

I hate it. I hate that all my stuff is split in two places. Hate that I still call it my apartment when it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Because home is wherever Dean is.

Which is such a disgustingly cheesy thought that I want to gag at myself, except it’s true. I’m standing in his kitchen pretending to look for coffee pods when really I’m just trying to work up the nerve to tell him I need to go there today.

He catches me, of course. Dean always catches me. I hear his footsteps behind me before his hands slide around my waist.

He presses his chest to my back and kisses the side of my head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

His grip tightens. “Maddie.”

I stare at the Keurig like it personally betrayed me. “Nothing.”

He turns me in his arms. Lifts one brow. The one that says he is not buying a single ounce of my nonsense. “We don’t lie to each other, remember?”

I sigh. “It’s not a lie if I’m just… delaying.”

He snorts. “Try again, Baby.”

I rest my forehead against his chest dramatically. “I have to go to my apartment.”

He waits. I know he’s waiting for more. I groan into his shirt.

“To get ready for tonight,” I mumble. “And get clothes. And shoes. And makeup.”

Still waiting. I look up at him.

“And I hate saying my apartment because it doesn’t feel like my place anymore because there is literally no place I want to be if you aren’t there.”

The words tumble out in one embarrassing rush. Dean stares at me for half a second. Then his mouth twitches. Then he smiles. Full. Warm. Devastating.

“You are so damn cute.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m having an emotional crisis.”

“And I’m enjoying it.”

I smack his chest. He catches my hand and kisses my knuckles.