Page 72 of Shoot Your Shot

“We both might be dragging ass today,” he murmurs into my hair as I turn onto my side to face the window. “I’m also supposed to work out with the team’s physical therapist today.”

I giggle at the sensation of the stubble on his chin brushing against my neck. “Just tell him you got plenty of exercise last night.” I grin like a little kid. “Heart-healthy, blood-pumping exercise.”

“The blood was pumping all right. But I’m not sure he wants to know what body part it was pumping to.” He tickles my side lightly before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me snugly against him. “I wish we could just stay in here all day.”

I know what he means. In here, it feels safe. Once we go outside, back into the real world, I’m terrified something is going to pull us apart again. Deep down, I don’t see how that could happen. We didn’t jump back into this blindly. Nor did we overnight. It took time and consideration. And even though more conversations will be had, I know it’s going to be all right. Because, unlike the last time trouble arose, this time, we are going to communicate.

“Me too.” I pull the comforter under my chin, nuzzling down into it. “But in a few days, the Sharks take on the Bruins. Even if you can’t lace up mentally, they need you this week to prepare.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, and suddenly, it’s like he’s traveled far away. Finally, he tightens his hold on my body and flips me over to face him. “What you said last night, about me playing again—”

“Kolt, it’s okay,” I whisper quickly. “I was being selfish. Hockey is a big part of what makes you … well, you. I’d never ask you to walk away from it.”

He stares down at me; his expression remains unchanged. “But I would, Paige. Would it hurt? Yeah. But being apart from you taught me one thing: I can do without a lot of things, but you aren’t one of them.”

Reaching up, I brush my hand across his forehead. “But you retiring? You being a broadcaster or a coach or really anything besides a defenseman for the New England Bay Sharks?” I sigh. “It wouldn’t be right. You wouldn’t be whole.” I bring my lips to his chin and brush them along the stubble. “But I’d be lying if I said that I’ll be ok watching you back on the ice again.” I shrugmy shoulders. “I don’t know how I’d feel if you never played again either. I’m a mess.”

His eyes remain on mine while he thinks. Finally, while strumming his fingers up my back, he swipes his thumb along my cheek. “No matter what, before I make any decisions, moving forward, I’ll talk to you first. One day at a time. That’s how we’ll do this.”

“I think that sounds perfect.” I nod. “And same with my office. Moving forward, we will decide what’s best—together.”

“I’ll support whatever you do. And if you want to sell this house to move closer to your practice, we can do that.” He says the words, though I feel the hesitation behind them.

“This is our home,” I say quickly. “We’re staying here.”

A grin spreads across his face, and he dips his head down to kiss me. “I like that,” he murmurs. “Feels so good to be home.”

When he pulls back, I frown. “You never left.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But you did. Without you, this wasn’t home.”

Wrapping my arms around him, I pull myself closer to his body and bury myself in him. Because when it comes down to it, this building isn’t my home.

Kolt is.

“You look oddly … happy,” Tripp says, eyeing me over suspiciously. “Especially for a dude who is missing this weekend’s game.”

Logan glances at me while lacing his skates up. “He looks like a dude who got lucky before he came to work.” He salutes me like the cheesy motherfucker he is. “I see you, Kolburne. I see you.”

“All right, all right,” Walker drawls, smacking me on the shoulder and giving my body a shake. “Happy to hear that, my man.”

Normally, I’d hate all this attention, and I’d tell them to fuck off or something, but right now, I’m on too much of a high to even care what these guys rib me about.

My wife is back. I’m on top of the world.

“I knew when Kolt went to Boothbay and got the three-legged cat, Paige wasn’t going anywhere,” Ryder chimes in, making me regret telling him that I now have two cats at my house. “Good luck to that poor bastard. Ted scares the shit out of me.”

“Ted loves Amelia,” Logan says matter-of-factly. “Hates me though.”

“She hates everyone,” I utter before changing the subject. “How are you all feeling about this weekend?”

They grow quiet, and Tripp glances around. “Well, if we’re going to act like a bunch of pussies, the Bruins will probably mop the ice with our bitch asses.”

Logan’s head lifts, and right away, I know this can go one of two ways. One, he can say something serious. Maybe uplifting.Or two, he’s going to make it into a joke because that’s his answer for literally everything.

“I take that as a compliment, you know—being called a pussy,” he says with a shrug. “That is one body part that can take a fucking beating.”

“For real. Ask Walker in a few months when he watches his baby come out of Poppy’s—” Ryder tosses out, but as soon as the words leave his lips, he cringes. “Don’t punch me, James. I wish I hadn’t said it. Now, I’m thinking about it, and it’s fucking gross.”

---