Page 186 of Ice Dance Hockey

We still win, but we’re all beat to shit. At least I’m sure I have enough bruises to look extra hot and dangerous for my husband. After the game, I steal him and take him back to my much larger apartment in the city so that he can scream as loud as he wants while I fuck him and not have to worry about his family hearing him.

Filled with as much testosterone as I am after that game, I don’t hold back.

His breath rasps in his throat when I’m done with him, and he flops on his back, panting. The full moon casts a bright glow over us, and I catch the first shadows of fluffy flakes. It’s happening. I’ve dreamed of this moment.

“It’s snowing, Lo.”

“I grew up in Ontario, not a novelty for me, baby.”

“C’mon. Snow becomes magical when it floats over New York City. Watch it with me.”

He has something on his mind, I’m hoping a little beauty will inspire him to words so that I don’t have to pull it out of him. He lets me drag him to the window; I wrap my house robe around him, and then my large body and we watch the snowy dust float down, down, down.

“I finally called Mom. She won’t call me back,” he says.

“Maybe she’s busy,” I try, even though something tells me there’s more to it.

“No. I’ve called her a few times. It’s been two weeks. I was worried, so I asked Merc what I should do. Don’t be upset with me for not coming to you—you wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it and you would have been the equivalent of a gorilla loose in the city.”

He’s not wrong. “What did he say?”

“She’s been in touch with his dad. She’s as fine as she ever gets. Merc told me not to worry, even though I could tell he was pissed. Know what he said?”

“What, baby?”

“I’m starting to think her only redeeming quality is you.” Logan stares out the window.

“That was a nice thing to say.”

“It was. I don’t know what I’d do without Merc.”

I ghost my fingers along the nape of his neck. “You feel guilty.”

“Well, yeah. I ignored her for months. I had the worst thoughts about her. I still wish she’d left me on the Meyer’s doorstep a lot sooner than she metaphorically did. And I’m aware enough to know I shouldn’t feel guilty, that I should hate her and wash my hands of her …”

He stops in the middle of that sentence. The “but he doesn’t, and he can’t” goes without saying.

“Do you want to go see her for Christmas?”

“Force my presence on her? Not really.”

“We’ll buy her a house. She likes bikes and cars, right? You’re rich now—despite the ridiculous notions you think you have to maintain because of your brother—we can buy our way into her life.”

He laughs and the knot in my chest relaxes. Didn’t know it was there. I might always have secret knots in my chest now. I’m on tenterhooks from one moment to the next with the need to make sure he’s happy, safe, and content.

“And money can solve all our problems, just like that?”

“Money can’t solve every problem, but it can solve most problems. C’mon, you’ll feel better after you’ve seen her, even if it’s terrible.”

“It will be terrible, Rhett. You don’t want to go through that.”

I spin him around to face me. “I do. I’m not just here for the good—though I intend for you to have mostly good—I’m here for all of it. I’m your husband, we do good, bad, and ugly together.”

I hold out my pinky until he hooks his with mine.

His world brightens. “Okay, let’s go have a terrible time with Mom—but I’m not missing my first Meyer Christmas. We’ll figure something else out.”

Our schedules are a nightmare, but I have a private jet. “It’s settled.”

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