He leans down to kiss me and I automatically inhale the scent of him—a mixture of soap and cologne.
“This is for you.” I thrust the container of pancakes and bacon into his hands.
He checks the window for Leroy and, seeing his grinning face, throws a wave and a “Thanks.” “Okay, we’ve gotta go.”
I trail after him, enjoying the sight of his strong back and his long strides. He still seems to favor his left leg a touch, but the doctor thinks that’ll work itself out. “Nervous?”
“Nope.”
I smile. “Liar.”
“What, you don’t think I’m strong enough?”
“Of course I think you’re strong enough.” I’ve noticed how much muscle he’s put back on, just over the past month. “I just—Ah!” Suddenly I find myself scooped into one of Brett’s arms and being carried across the parking lot toward the black Suburban he bought—off, of all people, Gord Mayberry. “Put me down!” I shriek, though I can’t help but laugh.
But he merely adjusts so he’s cradling me in both arms. “Don’t knock the container out of my hand,” he warns sternly. “I love Leroy’s pancakes.”
A phone is aimed at us from a booth in the diner. “Oh, my God. People are taking pictures now.”
“Better smile and pretend you love me, then.”
“I do lo—” I cut myself off right before I say it, feeling my cheeks burn. We have yet to say those words to each other, though they’re on the tip of my tongue every day from morning until night. Brett seems to have made a game of it, wanting me to say it before he does.
We reach the hood of the SUV, and instead of putting me down, he leans in to kiss me deeply right on the lips, taking his time and giving them a good angle.
“Why are you so insane today?”
He releases me to the ground. “Maybe I’m a bit nervous.”
“A bit?”
“Okay. More nervous than I was playing my first NHL game.” His jaw tenses. “Thank you for coming with me.”
“Of course I’m going to be there for you.” I smooth my hand over his jaw. I love the feel of his skin when it’s so freshly shaven. “You’ve got this.”
He leans forward to press his forehead against mine. “But what if I don’t?”
“Then . . .” I sigh. “You’ve got me. I know it’s not the same, but you’ve got me either way.”
“No, you’re right. It’s not the same.” He folds me into his arms, and I revel in the feel of his body—warm and powerful, and alive. And all mine. “It’s better.”
EPILOGUE
“Hey! We’re on the TV!”
I look over at the flat-screen in time to see Brenna waving her arms wildly back and forth at the cameras, my parents, Emma, and Jack sitting on either side of her in the front row of the luxury suite seats.
“She’s certainly not shy, is she?” Meryl says with a soft chuckle.
“No, she’s not.” Unlike Emma, who’s pretending to search for something in her purse, trying to avoid the attention.
“We might have another actress in the family,” Michelle adds, winking at her mother. Brett’s sister is a younger replica of Meryl, right down to the same shade of silky blonde hair and exact height. And she’s just as nice. I got to know her pretty well over the Christmas holidays, when we flew out to Malibu.
“God help us all, if that’s the case,” Richard says around a sip of his beer, though he’s grinning. “How’s the house coming?”
“It’s . . . coming.” I chuckle. “It’s chaotic right now. We’re in Philly most weekends.” To spend time with Brett as much as avoid the dust. He can’t come back to Balsam every night, the drive too much given his hectic training schedule and the snow. And now that he’ll be traveling with the team again . . .
“They’re about to go on!” Jack hollers.
I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves as I make my way down. Wishing I could talk to Brett right now. But he’s somewhere below, in the bowels of this giant arena with his team, getting ready to play his first game, eight months after the car accident that nearly killed him. He’s done well, his ankle standing up to the test of daily practices and intensive strength training. He’s ready.
But he was also pacing around the condo for hours last night. The crowd comes to life as lights in the arena begin flashing and changing colors, and the announcer’s deep voice blasts through the speakers.
“I’m embarrassed to admit that I haven’t been to one of his games in almost two years,” Meryl says, throwing a smile and wave at the camera that’s once again trained on our suite. Brett prepared me to expect that a lot tonight.
“It’s not exactly easy for you, is it?” I glance over my shoulder at the security detail—there’s one giant man by the door and another one standing just outside the suite entrance. Meryl will leave through a restricted exit at the end of the night.
“Still . . . I think the accident was a good reminder to take advantage of what’s in front of us today, because it might not be there tomorrow, right?” She takes a deep breath. “But now that we’re back on the East Coast again, I’m going to be here more. Assuming things go well tonight.”
“They will.”
She ropes her arm around my shoulders and squeezes me tight against her once, before letting me go.
“Here he comes!” Michelle squeals.
The announcer is talking, but whether it’s the noise from the crowd or the way his voice reverberates, I’m struggling to understand him.
Until he calls out, “Number Eighteen, Brett Madden!”
My heart soars as I watch Brett skate out, as the arena vibrates with the welcoming roar of the crowd. The energy doesn’t die down either, only growing as two lines of players form, one of the Flyers and the other the Bruins.
We stand for the national anthem.
And then the players square off at center ice.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I mumble to no one in particular.
My dad chuckles. “We’ll make a hockey fan out of you yet.”
“Whoa, we don’t want her using those season tickets, remember,” Jack mock-whispers.
“Oh, you’re right.” Dad’s face grows stern. “Good call, son.”
I ignore them, turning my focus to Brett at center. And I pray, to whoever was listening the night I pulled Brett out of that car, that they’re watching over him tonight, too.
The puck drops and I take a deep breath.
Thirty-two seconds later, Brett scores his first goal.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I needed to write this story. It’s very different from the ones I’ve written recently. It’s light (for me), it could be called trope-y (by others), it’s full of love and family and laughter, and it has left me with a broad smile and a sigh of content. I hope you have enjoyed experiencing Catherine Wright’s adventure.
To my readers, thank you for giving me a chance. Many of you continue along with me on this journey, whether it be with a lighthearted romance or a nail-biting suspense story, trusting me enough to allow me a few precious hours of your life.