Page 51 of Defend Her Heart

But for once, this silence doesn’t feel strained. It’s a comfortable type of quiet that settles onto my chest like a warm hug. Like being here with Connor, sharing a meal, is my comfort. It feels like coming home.

Avery takes her first bite of her pancakes and a soft moan escapes her mouth. My dick immediately twitches at the sound, and I internally chastise myself for getting excited over her reaction.

But,god, do I wish I was the reason for that sound.

Avery’s hand flies up to her mouth the moment it registers that she just moaned out loud. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. That was not ladylike.”

I swallow my food then laugh. “Since when are you so concerned about being ladylike?” I point my fork at her in emphasis. “If I remember correctly, you hated when teachers at school told you tosit like a lady,or when people would ask you why you didn’t wear makeup when you went out.”

Not that I really blamed her for hating all that. Avery was perfect the way she was. She still is. She didn’t need to sit a certain way or get all dolled up to look beautiful. Avery was unashamedly a hockey player first, and it’s what I loved about her most. She knew exactly who she was.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know enough back then. Back then I didn’t see what the big deal was. I wanted to be one of the guys more than I wanted to be one of thegirls. The guys got all the attention, the scholarship offers, the professional contracts. I didn’t have time to worry about anything other than my game.”

I set my fork down and fold my arms onto the table. She’s opening up to me and I don’t want to miss a single word she says.

“But now I understand why women in the league and girls in college get dressed up even if they’re just going to lace up their skates and throw elbows on the ice.”

I lean in closer to her. “Why’s that?”

“Because you can be both. You can rock the high heels off the ice and still be a badass on it. You don’t have to hide or mask how feminine you are just because people out there might think you don’t have what it takes. For some reason, people—especially men—like to open their mouths when a pretty woman enters the hockey world. Like, just because we curl our hair or wear mascara, we can’t do the job. It’s bullshit. I wish I realized sooner that being a woman in a man’s world actually gave me so much power. Power to make a difference. Power to be a role model for those little girls who thought they had to choose between one or the other: be a hockey player or be a lady. You can be both.”

Magnificent. Avery Chamberlin is fucking magnificent.

“What?” she asks, and I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“What, what?”

She points to my face. “You have this weird, goofy smile on your face? Why are you smiling like that?”

I’m about to quote our favorite Christmas movie again, but she points at me once more. This time it’s a stern, scolding finger being thrust my way.

“And don’t you dare quote Buddy the Elf again. Smiling is most definitelynotyour favorite.”

I laugh, because how can I not? I’m one grumpy motherfucker, especially at the rink, but it’s nearly impossible to feelthat way around her. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. So many years, so many memories, and this woman is still etched onto my soul like no one else is. Like no one else ever will be.

“You’re amazing.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can talk myself out of saying them. Avery sits back in the booth, clearly not expecting me to say that. I use her stunned silence to my advantage.

“What you’re doing now, as the first-ever female play-by-play commentator, you are that role model.” I gesture at her. “You know hockey better than anyone on the planet. You get on that mic every night and bring the game to life for everyone watching it on their TVs at home, and you look beautiful doing it. I’m not saying that looks matter, because they don’t. But you aren’t hiding who you are anymore either, and that’s something to be proud of. I’m so proud of you.”

Neither of us say anything right away. I watch her chest rise and fall as she takes in my words. Maybe I’ve said too much. But honestly? I don’t think I’ve said enough.

The seconds tick by, and I’m ready to change the subject when I hear her voice.

“Thank you.” The two words are spoken softly but with so much emotion, I nearly reach across the booth and wrap my arms around her.

I can tell she’s feeling vulnerable right now, so instead of making a bigger deal out of it, more than I already have, I look her in the eye when I say, “You’re welcome,” then pick my fork up to eat my breakfast.

We spend the next fifteen minutes catching up on mundane things, like how the team is feeling heading into the Olympic break, and how her best friend Tamara, whose couch I just found out she’s crashing on, is doing. I make a mental note to look for available apartments to rent. Shemight be looking for a place already, but with so much on her plate, maybe that’s something I can help with, too.

Breakfast is going better than I could have ever imagined. I know we both agreed to move forward because we’re working together but I never thought it would feel like this again. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. Hockey has always been that for me but the day I left for college, the day I lefther,it always felt like something was missing. I knew it was her I was missing but I refused to admit it to anyone. Hell, I had a hard time admitting it to myself most of the time. Time was supposed to make everything better. Well, here I am, a decade later, and I feel like I’ve found the missing piece.

I don’t want to ruin this by bringing up our impending arrangement, but that is the point of meeting here today. I lean back against the booth but keep one hand on the table, fiddling with my napkin as my nerves threaten to get the best of me.

“Not to bring the mood down, but we should probably talk about the reason we’re here.”

Avery sips her orange juice, setting it down gently onto the table. “Ah, you mean planning our wedding?” Her lips tip up, and I know she’s joking, but fuck if it doesn’t send my heart haywire.