Page 74 of The Forever Game

I growl in my throat, my hands fisting at my sides.

“And I quit.” She gives me a pointed look.

All the anger in me evaporates. Well, most of it. Surprise sweeps away the bulk of my wrath, leaving only small remnants that can come back to life after I’ve processed this unexpected news.

She sniffs. “Yeah, I quit. I broke my contract, and who knows what kind of shit that’s gonna get me in, but I just couldn’t be there.” She shrugs. “So, I stormed out, and then…” She works her jaw to the side. “I went to my car and sobbed.” Her face crumples, and I move toward her but am stopped when she raises her hand and blubbers, “And then I got a tattoo.”

I stare at her ring finger, my breath on hold as I take in the delicate tattoo inked on her skin. It’s a stylizedEset in the middle of an infinity symbol. It’s still raw and looks kind of painful, so I’m extra gentle as I take her fingers and fold them over mine.

She sniffs, her voice still quaking. “Just because I don’t wear your ring doesn’t mean I’m not constantly thinking about you. You’re always with me, Ethan. And when we’re not together, I miss you so much it hurts.” Her voice catches, and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her to my side and kissing the top of her head.

“You quit your job and got a tattoo,” I whisper into her hair, still reeling and now fighting this unexpected laughter bubbling in my chest.

She nods, her voice muffled by my sweater. “Felt really good, actually.” Pulling away, she looks up at me with glassy eyes. “Not sure what I’m gonna do now, but… I think I just need to be with you for a while. Even if that means following you around and becoming some heinous hockey wife.”

“You’ll never be heinous.” I brush my knuckle down her nose. “But you’ll always be my wife.”

“Yeah, I will.” Her eyes light with beauty, my heart stretching like it’s taking its first full breath in months. “Like I’m gonna do life without you.”

My smile grows with relief, and I can tell she’s relieved, too, but there’s still a touch of sadness lurking in her expression. The last twenty-four hours must have been total shit for her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” I rasp. “I should have driven you to Denver.”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “I needed to do this on my own anyway. And it probably wouldn’t have looked great to have a pro hockey player arrested for beating the shit out of a sports agent, you know?” She wrinkles her nose in jest, and I mirror her expression, although my tone is serious.

“It’s not okay what he did to you, and I want to break that piece of shit.”

“But you won’t.” She pats my chest. “Because I need you here with me, not in jail. You’ve got your best season yet coming up.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?” Her eyes start to sparkle with that playful look I first fell in love with.

I grin and press my lips to hers, pulling away only long enough to promise, “We’re gonna find a way that works for both of us, okay? I love you, and I want you to be living your best life. I want to help you make your dreams a reality.”

She goes up on her tiptoes, squeezing the back of my neck. “You’remy best life, and the rest I’m gonna figure out along the way. For now, I just want to be with you and wash away the shittiness that has been the last twenty-four hours.”

My right eyebrow arches as I smirk. “Well, we better get in the shower, then.”

CHAPTER28

MIKAYLA

Ethan plucks me off the ground, and my legs automatically wrap around his waist. I kiss his cheeks as he carries me up the stairs. I’ve never seen him cry before, not even on our wedding day. But seeing those tears trail down his face as I stepped away from him was a revelation. I swear I’ve never loved him more than in that moment. His pain over the thought of losing me was so freaking humbling. He loves me. He was willing to quit hockey for me.

I’ve never felt so important to anyone in my life. I don’t even know what to do with that. Trailing my fingers into the ends of his hair, I lightly play with them as I press my lips to his and drink in his taste, that familiar flavor of him.

How many times have we kissed in the past six years?

How many times has his tongue swept across mine?

Yet this time feels new, different somehow.

It’s deep with meaning, like my soul is seeking out his, desperate to connect on a level we’ve never experienced before.

We reach the bathroom, and Ethan pops me down to turn on the shower.

I start unbuttoning his shirt—so big and cumbersome on me, but I love it just the same. He gently flicks my fingers away and takes over, delicately pushing each button through the hole until it’s spread apart, my body on display. I didn’t bother putting on a bra this morning. I got home so late last night, and Ethan wasn’t here. I wept some more, pulling out his shirt and crying into it before putting it on and finding a perch on the couch. I barely slept. With the curtains open, I watched the sun lighten the sky while I sat on the couch and wondered where my husband was.

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