Page 12 of Puck Me at Midnight

“I’m so close,” I whisper.

“Me too,” he says reverently. “Come now, sugar.”

Spike’s lips find my neck and my shoulder, murmuring my name like a prayer. I lose myself in the sensation, in the way he makes me feel cherished, desired, and seen.

“Emma,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything.”

The words break something open in me, and I erupt.

When it’s over, we lie tangled together, our breaths mingling, our hearts still racing. His arm is draped over me, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my back. He pulls me closer, his lips pressing gently against mine, and as I drift off to sleep in his arms, I know that whatever challenges lie ahead, this moment will always be ours.

Chapter Nine

Spike

I wake up and immediately know I’ve slept longer than usual. Normally, the sound of Sam or Charlie running down the hall is my wake-up call, but today, the house is quiet. Too quiet. For a second, I wonder if it’s all been a dream—Emma moving in, stepping into our chaos, and somehow making it feel like home again. But then I hear the faint hum of her voice from the kitchen, and it pulls me out of bed like a magnet.

Padding down the hall barefoot, I stop at the doorway and watch her. She’s wearing one of those oversized sweaters she’s always in, hair tied up in a messy bun, with Charlie on her hip and Sam sitting at the counter, scribbling on a piece of paper. She’s holding a spatula in one hand looking like she’s done this a million times.

My chest tightens. She’s part of this family, not just our nanny. And the way she’s taken to the boys, the way they’ve taken to her, scares the hell out of me. Because if I lose her, it’ll wreck them. It’ll wreck me, too.

“Morning,” I say, stepping into the room. Charlie’s face lights up when he sees me. He wriggles out of Emma’s arms to run over to me. I scoop him up and kiss the top of his head. “What’s going on in here?”

“Pancakes, again,” Emma says with a smile, flipping one onto a plate. “Sam’s the official taste tester.”

“They’re good,” Sam says, his voice muffled by a mouthful of pancake. “Better than yours.”

Emma snickers, and I shake my head. “Better than mine, Sam?” I set Charlie down, and he toddles over to his booster seat, clapping his hands for a pancake of his own. Emma slides one onto his plate and helps him into his seat. I can’t help but notice the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles. It’s the little things with her that get me.

“I thought Duke and Tilly were keeping them until lunch?” I ask, grabbing a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter.

“They were, but Charlie woke up very early, and Sam was asking to come home,” Emma explains. “Duke said he figured we’d want them home if that’s what the kids wanted, so he dropped them off first thing.”

That sounds like Duke, always trying to do what’s best for everyone. “He was right, even if I was looking forward to the morning alone with you,” I say, sipping my coffee.

Emma glances at me, her lips twitching into a soft smile, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The boys chatter at the table, but all I can focus on is the memory of last night. Her lips on mine, her breathless whispers, the way her body fit so perfectly against mine. My chest tightens as our eyes meet, and I know she’s thinking about it, too.

Later that morning, after the boys are settled with their toys, Emma and I sit at the kitchen table. I have a rare day off from practice, and I’m determined to spend it with them. But being this close to her, pretending everything is normal, is killing me.

“What do you think about taking the boys to the park?” Emma asks, looking up from her coffee. “It’s supposed to be nice out today.”

“Sounds good,” I say, already picturing Sam’s excitement and Charlie’s little legs running as fast as they can. “We can pack a lunch, make a day of it.”

As she reaches for her mug, her fingers brush mine, lingering just a moment too long. The spark between us is undeniable, and I fight the urge to pull her into my lap right then and there. But the boys are watching, oblivious to the tension filling the room.

The park is everything I hoped it would be. Sam is a blur of energy, running from the swings to the slide to the monkey bars, while Charlie sticks close to Emma, holding her hand as they explore the playground. I sit on a bench, watching them, and for a moment, it feels like nothing else exists. Not hockey, not the pressure of trying to fill Tyler’s shoes—just this. Just us.

“You look lost in thought,” Emma says, sitting down beside me. She’s flushed from the sun, a stray strand of hair sticking to her cheek. I reach out without thinking, brushing it away, and she freezes, her eyes locking on mine.

“Just thinking about how good you are with them,” I admit, my voice lower than I intended. “They’re lucky to have you.”

Her cheeks turn pink, and she looks away, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m the lucky one,” she says softly. “They’ve given me more than I could ever give them.”

I want to say something, anything, to let her know how much she means to me, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I reach out and take her hand, squeezing it gently. She doesn’t pull away, and for now, that’s enough.

Back at home, the boys are wiped out from the day, crashing on the couch with their favorite cartoons. Emma and I clean up the kitchen together, moving around each other in perfect sync. It feels domestic and intimate, and it’s driving me crazy.

As she reaches for a dish, her hand brushes mine, and I can’t help myself. I step closer, trapping her against the counter. Her eyes widen, her breath hitching as she looks up at me.

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