Page 128 of Crease Collision

Come home, hjärtat.

The broadcast cuts to announcers who are dissecting a victory I already understand, so I turn the TV off. In the kitchen, I confirm the sparkling cider is waiting in the fridge, then make my way to the bedroom, where I take some coins from my drawer. They are fake gold, each one stamped with an image of the Laurentian Cup. I turn back Kai’s side of the covers and arrange the coins in a gleaming border fit for a champion.

It’s almost one when the door clicks open. I’ve been dozing on the couch, but I jump up as soon as Kai comes in. He looks like he’s been through a war.

“Hey,” he says, his voice rough with exhaustion.

“Hello, champion!” I pull him into a careful hug because I know he’s sore all over.

He melts against me and says, “I’m so tired.”

“I’m sure, but you did it.”

He pulls back enough to look at me. “We did it. I couldn’t have made it through this without you.”

After giving him a quick kiss, I take his hand. “Come on. I have something for you.”

I lead him to the kitchen, pour cider into two champagne glasses, and hand him one. “To the Laurentian Cup champions,” I say, clinking his glass. “And to my personal champion.”

We carry our cider out onto the balcony. Below us, the city is alive with more than the usual middle-of-the-night sirens. Tonight, there are car horns, loud music, and distant cheers.

“Listen.” I slip my arm around his waist. “They’re going crazy for you guys.”

“New York loves its winners,” he says.

Right on time, a group of rowdy guys stops on the sidewalk below.

“Mercer! Mercer!” they yell, looking upward. “Let’s go, Condors!”

I’m sure they can’t see us, but a protective instinct has me pulling Kai closer. “They know where you live?”

“It’s impossible to keep it completely secret,” he says. “Why do you think I chose a high-security building?”

I kiss the top of his head. “They sure know how to pick someone to cheer for.”

He leans against me, resting his head on my shoulder. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream.”

“If it’s a dream, it’s a damn good one,” I say. “I’m glad I get to be part of it.”

“Wouldn’t be a dream without you, Ozzy.”

For a while, we stare at the skyline while the greatest city in the world celebrates his victory. I’m so lucky to be with the man I’ve always been waiting for.

He pulls away and looks at me. “You know what I want more than anything right now?”

“What?” I ask. “Whatever it is, I’ll do my best to get it for you.”

“You don’t have to do anything except make love to me.”

We go back inside as the city’s celebration continues below. In here, it’s just us. “Come on,” I say, guiding him toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

The room is dark except for the soft glow of Manhattan filtering through the open drapes. I turn to face him, and my hands find the hem of his championship shirt and ease the fabric upward.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment all day,” I tell him.

He raises his arms, allowing me to pull the shirt over his head. “About me winning the Cup, or just getting me out of my clothes?”

“Both. Mostly the second part, to be honest.”