Page 309 of Wild Card 13

I followed her over the edge, surging up into her, my hands gripping her hips as I spilled everything I had into her. The wave rolled through me, endless and deep, and I held her against me, not letting go, not wanting this moment to end. Her weight settled on my chest, her breathing ragged against my neck, and I felt the aftershock of her pulse against my own.

Her fingers traced lazy patterns through the hair on my chest, and I watched the lake light shift across her shoulders, catching the faint sheen of sweat still cooling on her skin. She lifted her head, her glasses somehow still clinging to her face, and looked at me with those brown eyes that had been undoing me since we were seventeen.

"That was—" She stopped, a small laugh escaping her. "I don't have words."

I brushed a curl off her cheek, letting my thumb trace the line of her jaw. "Good. I don't want words right now."

She shifted on top of me, a small movement that sent a residual shiver through both of us, and I felt her smile against my palm. Her hand slid down my stomach, slow, deliberate, and I felt myself stir again under her touch. She raised an eyebrow, that half-mischievous smile returning. "Already?"

"Give me a minute." I pulled her up, rolling us over until she was beneath me, her hair fanning across the pillow, her legs still loose around my hips. "I want to take my time this time."

Her breath caught, and I watched the trust settle in her eyes—the way her shoulders softened, the way her hands came up to frame myface instead of pushing at my chest. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, the words quiet and sure.

I lowered my mouth to hers, slow, tasting the salt and the want still on her lips, and I let my hand find her thigh, guiding it higher around my waist. The night stretched out ahead of us, and for the first time in years, I wasn't counting the hours until goodbye.

CHAPTER 40

BUZZ

NOW

Iwoke up at four because my body had no concept of sleeping in.

It did not matter that it was Sunday. It did not matter that the season was over, that I did not have a workout I was required to drag myself through before sunrise, or that I had spent most of the night learning every new and familiar thing about Lucy Thomas in my bed.

Four o’clock arrived, and my eyes opened.

For one second, I forgot how to breathe.

Lucy was asleep against me. Curled into my side with one bare leg tangled in the sheets and one hand resting over my stomach like she had put it there and trusted it to stay. Her face was tucked close to my chest. Her dark red-brown curls were all over my pillow, my arm, my skin. She was wearing my shirt, one of the old gray ones from training camp, the collar stretched loose enough that it had slid down one shoulder while she slept.

The room was barely lit. The world beyond the windows was still black around the edges, the lake hidden in the dark except for the faint shift of water against the shore. The ceiling fan moved slowly overhead. Somewhere in the house, the air kicked on with a low hum.

Lucy slept through it.

Her fingers flexed and something in my chest went soft and stupid.

I get to keep this,I thought.

Last night, she had looked up at me in this bed with her hair spread across my pillow and her eyes too bright in the dark.

I’m not going anywhere.

I believed her.

I slid my hand over her back, barely touching her through the cotton of my shirt. She made a small sound in her sleep and pressed closer, her knee brushing my thigh. Every muscle in my body locked.

I had fought through double coverage with a bruised rib. I had taken hits from defensemen who seemed personally offended by my existence. I had once stood between Alois Müller and an opposing forward who had called Bea something stupid, which remained one of the boldest and least intelligent choices of my professional life.

None of that compared to the discipline it took not to wake Lucy up just because I wanted to hear her voice.

I watched morning gather at the window.

I listened to her breathe.

I tried to understand that she had come back to me without letting it swallow me whole.

After a while, Lucy shifted. Her cheek moved against my chest. Her fingers curled, then flattened.