Page 79 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

MIRANDA

The team plane flying back to New Jersey is noisy with celebration. The Atlantic Conference won the game and will have the home ice advantage if a team from the conference makes it to the Dickinson Cup Finals. Some people are staying an extra night, but many of us are ready to get back home. Home. I can’t remember ever using that word and it feeling so right, deep in my soul. Sure, I say it all the time for convenience, but I never truly mean it. I do now. New Jersey is my home and where I want to put down roots. Hopefully, I won’t be alone.

Taking our usual seats in the back of the plane, we tell Stella what we want to drink after takeoff and settle in with blankets covering us. Snuggling against Declan’s side with his arm draped across my shoulders, this is the most peace I have ever felt in my life. Everything is going to be okay. The world goes fuzzy around me until it’s all darkness and Declan. I float a bit, like I did when I’d drink Doreen’s tea. But there’s no struggle this time, no screaming at myself something’s not right. Everything’s right.

“Psst…time to wake up Daisy. We’re about to land.”

“Hrmph?”

“You fell asleep, Miranda, we’re about to land.”

I sit up and wipe the drool from my chin. “I didn’t fall asleep. You know I don’t sleep on planes.”

“Randi, you were asleep. You were snoring,” Trevor says from the row in front of ours.

Stone shoves his phone back between the seats. I’m horrified to see a video of me, with my head pillowed on Dec’s chest. My mouth is wide open, and a low snuffle is emanating from me.

“You’re a mean, mean man, Sean Waller,” I say.

“But if I make you French toast, you’ll forgive me, right?”

Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “Maybe. But with extra cinnamon.”

Why did I fall asleep now? Okay, yeah, I didn’t get a ton of sleep last night, but I’ve flown way more exhausted and been wide awake. Is this what it’s like to heal childhood trauma? I should ask Daphne for the name of her therapist. I think I’m going to need to talk to someone neutral about everything I’ve gone through.

Speaking of Daphne, she is waiting for us when we get off the plane while Logan grabs their bags.

“You fell asleep on the plane,” she squeals, grabbing my arm in excitement and giving a wiggle.

I flush hotly. “You could hear me snore that far up?”

“What? No. I walked back to use the restroom and saw.”

“You know you can trust Declan to keep you safe while you slept, and you love him.” She wipes a tear from her eye. “It’s beautiful.”

I blink. Is it true? My flippant answer would be to ask her what self-help podcast she got that from and say we made love most of the night and I’m functioning on two hours of sleep. But I’ve gone days without sleep before while traveling and never dozed off. Even on the flights we had before, sitting next to Declan, when I was exhausted from moving to New Jersey, I remained wide awake. Of course, I love Declan. That’s never been in question. But do I trust him and know I’m safe around him? I realize I do. There’s no one in the world I trust more. Not even Trevor, who I know would do almost anything for me.

“Yeah, Daph,” I say, taking Dec’s hand. “It is beautiful.”

Dec leans down to press a kiss on my cheek. “But not as beautiful as you.”

EPILOGUE – MIRANDA

The days after the All-Star Break are a whirlwind with traveling for games, practices, and watching the league standings to see if we’re in the running to make the playoffs to win the league championship trophy and be the first team engraved on The Dickinson Cup.

Declan’s hand is healed, and he is cleared to play in the next set of home games this weekend. It’s been wonderful to make love and cuddle without worrying about getting conked on the head with a splint. For physical therapy, they recommend he do lots of dexterity exercises with his fingers. I’m always happy to help him with that. The sacrifices I’m willing to make multiple times a day to keep his fingers nimble is a true testament to my love for him. We agree we are going to focus on “dating” for now and will save any talk of marriage until after the regular season is over. We know we’re going to be together forever. That makes waiting until April before making it formal bearable.

My new-to-me SUV—courtesy of Trevor—is all registered and insured, so I invite Dec to take a ride with me. It’s smaller than the Suburban he drives, but with some seat adjustments he fits. It won’t be a long drive, he’ll be okay.

Where our driveway meets the road, I turn right. We almost always go left to go to the rink and other places. Going right takes us deeper into the woods, where there are no stores or restaurants. In less than a mile, I see a “for sale” sign on the left-hand side of the road with a “sold” banner across it. I use my blinker out of habit even though no one is around because I am not a heathen and turn down the driveway.

“What are you doing?” Declan asks. “This is private property.”

Shrugging, I say, “I know. I want to see what’s back here. It’s okay.”

We bounce along the dirt driveway through the pine and oak trees lining either side. It will need to be graded. I wonder if paving would make more sense. The drive curves and an old farmhouse appears. It’s weathered gray and can use some sprucing up, but it’s solid. The barn behind it needs work too—a fresh coat of paint, the doors rehung, some of the stalls inside need new lumber—but it has potential.

Turning off Clara—yes, I named her already—I open my door to explore the property, hurrying to avoid Declan’s grasp.

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