Page 122 of Lace 'em Up

And I’m fucking terrified I won’t be the man she needs?—

Fuck that.

The thought tears through me so fiercely that I almost miss the turnoff.

You’re not your dad.

No, I’m not.

You’re not enough.

Maybe not, but I’m not going to leave this woman out there, exposed and vulnerable to the world. Not when…

She’s mine.

May the hockey gods help me.

But. She. Is. Mine.

The thought burns like acid through my veins. It’s terrifying and intoxicating. It makes me want to pull this car over, get out, and scream up at the sky.

I want to break shit, break it until all the memories are in pieces so small I can’t remember them.

Because…she’s mine.

Not for a little while.

Forever.

I pause, wait for lightning to strike me down for just thinking that.

And when it doesn’t, I breathe…and then I reach over the console and pick up her hand, lace our fingers together, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, just beneath the huge-ass diamond ring I’d bought her.

Fake.

But not.

It’s not fucking fake.

Thirty-Four

Rory

The soft kiss on the back of my hand is seared into my skin.

And that pulsing sensation that skates over my flesh for the next five minutes distracts me for the remainder of the drive.

I barely feel the centripetal forces pulling on my body as we wind our way to the top of a hill, barely notice the rusted metal gate that’s pushed to the side, thus allowing us to keep driving up.

I don’t notice much of anything—aside from that feel of King’s mouth on me—until we slide to a stop and he turns off the engine.

Then…

I notice everything.

Shamrock-colored hills spreading out in all directions, large dark green oaks dotting them in irregular intervals, and a bright blue sky filled with floofy, cotton candy-like clouds floating slowly across the horizon.

“Come here,” he murmurs, taking my hand and drawing me to the side, up along a shaded path.

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