Page 247 of Cross Check

I open my eyes, and I peer over his shoulder. Two cakes sit on the counter, and I look at the one on the left first.

“‘Congratulations on second place in the East. The Stars are still better,’” I read. “Tonight’s results would beg to differ.”

“Shit.” Grant chuckles and opens the flap of the box on the right. “Wrong one. I had to have a backup, just in case.”

I read the message on the other cake and laugh. “‘Congratulations on kicking our ass. You’re the hottest coach I’ve ever seen.’”

“And I mean every word.”

“What a way to celebrate. I think I’ll have a slice right now.” I grab a plate from the cabinet and open the drawer for a knife. “Do you want a piece?”

“I’ll steal some of yours.” He leans against the counter, watching me. “They’re both chocolate with buttercream frosting.”

“My favorite. You’re good at remembering things.” I cut a slice and set it on my plate. “Hang on. Let me get a fork.”

“Don’t need one.” Grant washes his hands then picks up the cake, holding it out to me. “Open up, baby.”

I blush as he brings the slice to my mouth. I take a bite, a moan escaping me.

“Delicious,” I murmur. I fold my fingers around his wrist, holding his hand in place while I lick a crumb off his thumb. “The best way to end tonight.”

“The loss stings, but it’s worth it for you to be happy,” he says, and there in his kitchen, it hits me with full force.

Oh my god.

I love this man.

I love him so fucking much.

That what this is, right? It has to explain the warm, bubbly sensation that sits in the center of my chest when he smears frosting on my cheek. It’s the reason why I’m gripped by giddiness when the slice of cake lands on the floor and he wraps his arms around me. It’s the only cause for the content sigh that slips out of me because I’m safe in his hold.

Love.

Aching, pure, impossible love.

I’ve never believed in it before, but I see it clearly now.

Dark eyes, dark hair. The smile he presses into the hollow of my neck with a kiss that makes me dizzy with lust. Hands that protect me, that worship me as his salvation.

It makes me gasp, and I put a hand over my heart when Grant pulls back and looks at me.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Your face is red.”

“I’m fine. Perfect,” I answer. “Never been happier.”

I kiss him again, and I don’t care that his hands are covered in frosting. I don’t care that I have cake in my hair. None of that matters because I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be with the man that I love.

Maybe dreams really do come true.

SEVENTY-SEVEN

GRANT

AUGUST, THIS SEASON

The Sea Crabs put up a valiant fight in the Stanley Cup final, but they were swept in four games after a historic postseason run.

Amelia headed to Wisconsin for a month with her family at the start of summer. I survived on photos of her string bikinis that nearly gave me a heart attack, but the pictures she sent late at night were an even bigger threat to my health. In those, she was in bed, comfy in one of the T-shirts she stole from me before she left. My last name was stretched across her back, and it became my new favorite outfit of hers.