Page 52 of Love You Too

Turning, I realize Trix has followed us to the car, and I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t hear her feet on the gravel. “Yeah?”

“Can you stay tonight?”

My shoulders drop, and the tension I didn’t know I was carrying falls away. “Sure, I can stay. I didn’t want to assume.”

“Assume.” She turns and starts walking back to the house. It’s then I realize why I didn’t hear her footsteps. She’s barefoot, padding slowly on the rough gravel because it probably hurts her feet.

“Hang on.”

She stops and looks over her shoulder, yelping as I scoop her into my arms. “I’ve got you.”

“Ren…” she starts to protest, but I pull her in tighter. She weighs nothing compared to the heavy weights I have to lift in training, and it feels good to be useful.

“Let me do this. Can you try to just let me give you a hand?”

She sighs against my chest, and I take that as a yes. “You’re infuriating.” I take that as a yes as well.

“I told you I want to be here for you, and I didn’t just mean I’d be here to write a check for diapers. I meant I’ll be here foryou.” Until I say the words out loud, I don’t realize how much I mean them.

Maybe I surprise Trix, too, because she twists in my arms to look at me as I take the steps of her porch two at a time. “You can put me down now. No more gravel,” she says as I turn the knob of her front door and walk us into her house like I own the place.

“I could, but what if I don’t want to?”

“Ren, please put me down. I don’t like feeling useless.”

“You’re never useless.” I place her on the couch and take a seat next to her. Truman winds himself in two circles before dropping to the floor at her feet. From the outside, we probably look the part of the perfect family tableau—young parents-to-be and an eager dog. Just another night of domestic bliss on the couch while the world has its way with everyone else outside.

Only I know better than to believe we’re going to be the kind of family I fantasize about with her. Key rule of sports is to never let the appearance of a team get in your head—never assume you know how they’ll play the game until you see it unfold on the ice. I need to do that here, too.

“So why’d you invite me in?” I still don’t understand her about-face from seeming put out by my mere presence to asking me to stay. Maybe it’s a pregnancy hormone thing.

“Because I missed you. I know it’s crazy because I saw you two days ago, but it’s true. I missed you.”

She looks tentative, gauging my reaction. I grab her hand and interlace our fingers, feeling a flood of endorphins race through me, a high so much better than winning a poker game.

“I missed you too.” It’s the truth, and it feels good to be honest about my feelings. But I stop there. I want to tell her that my heart feels wrung out and empty when I’m away from her. I want her to know how distracted I am by her all the time. I want to tell her I fucking love her.

But I don’t say any of these things. I just pull her in tight and inhale the sweet scent of her skin and feel damn lucky she wants me to stay. It feels like the beginning of something good.

Trix leads me through the entryway to the couch, where she likes to curl up in the evenings with Tru at her feet. Before we’ve even seated ourselves, Truman circles around twice on the rug and settles in for a nap. I sit on the couch and pull Trix into my lap so she sits sideways with her arm around my neck. For just one moment, I inhale the sweet scent of her damp hair and revel in the feel of her body against mine. There’s nothing better than this feeling. With Truman at our feet, it really does feel like home.

“Hey, I was thinking…” I nuzzle her ear and plant a row of kisses along her jaw.

“You’re always thinking,” she laughs, her hand sweeping over my thigh and squeezing.

“True. I’m thinking you should come to a game. Wanna?” My casual tone belies my nerves. It means a lot to me for her to see me play again. I want her to understand why I’ve made the sacrifices I have over the course of my career. I want her to witness my love for the sport and what I’ve made of myself on the ice. Maybe I want her to forgive me for leaving.

I reach down for one of her bare feet and start rubbing slow, massaging circle. She lets out a grateful moan.

“Would I get to watch guys get into fights?”

I laugh. “Almost guaranteed. Yes.”

“Cool! I’m in.” Her head falls back against my shoulder as I press deeper into the arch of her foot. “Mmm, that feels good. My feet are so tired.”

“As a side bonus, you’ll also see me play.”

She tips her head up to look at me. “Oh, Hockey Star. That’s not a side bonus. It’s the whole paycheck.”

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