Page 53 of Forging Chaos

“Go,” I tell him, and he steps backward, waving.

I snap a picture with my phone as he walks toward the boat, his torso turned toward me, arm waving, smile shooting sparks my way.

I missed a hundred messages from his family asking about the race. Apparently, the online stream didn’t work. I send the photo to his family group chat, telling them, “My man, the victor. They crushed those light blue Cambridge Smurfs.”

I also sent the picture to my mom, telling her I wish she could have seen Odin row, and promising her that she’ll get to meet him at Christmas. Dad got a job washing dishes at the diner where Mom works, and things have been a little better back home. I might not ever be able to help lift enough stigma and baggage to help my parents directly, but I know my work will make a difference for other families like mine.

I know Odin Stag will be at my side wherever I go, rooting for me and making life work together. I used to think commitments to other people would be a burden, that opening myself up to anyone, but Fern would hold me back. I see now how these connections Odin has forced upon me have opened my world.

I grab a beer for each of us and sit on a bench at one of the long tables to wait for him.

My body relaxes when he arrives, gray sweats over his uniform, sandals on his still-bare feet. He slides onto the bench and pulls me into his arms, kissing me before reaching for his beer. “I love you,” he says. “I’m going to say it twenty times an hour now.”

“I love you too.” I clink my cup against his, lean my head on his shoulder, and sip my drink happily. “Hey,” I say,turning again to face him. “Did I ever thank you for following me here?”

He grins. “No, but that’s okay. I can tell you need me.”

“Oh, I need you, do I?”

He nods and finishes his beer in one more gulp. “You need it bad, Thora Janssen.” He squints, studying me, and then leans in close. “In fact, I think we should get out of here.”

“You don’t want to stay and celebrate with your team?”

He shakes his head, hops to his feet, and reaches for my hand. “What I want is you, Thora. Always.”

EPILOGUE

ODIN

“Mrs. Janssen,I couldn’t eat another bite.” I toss my napkin to the side and pat my stomach appreciatively. Thora was nervous as hell about coming to her parents’ house for Christmas. I promised her I was absolutely fine with whatever was inside there, but her dad surprised her by revealing that he quit smoking months earlier.

Thora cried and walked through the rooms of the house, sniffing pillows and touching curtains. I mean, sure, the guy switched to nicotine gum, but it’s way less stinky, and apparently, it’s covered by his insurance. They have that now—insurance. Thora also cried when her parents let her help them with the paperwork for that a few months ago.

“You guys just seem so healthy,” Thora sniffles. She hugs her mother tightly. They’re about the same size, which is tiny. Mr. Janssen grunts and pops another piece of gum in his mouth, flicking the television over to a hockey game. I join him on the couch, looking to see my brothers on the screen. “Hey, the twins are starting,” I say, and Thora pats my shoulder. She’s not really a sports fan unless I’m competing, but she will agree to watch Wyatt, Wes, and Cara play soccer if Ibribe her with sex. I guess I have to get her into hockey now that the Stags are back in the game.

Thora’s dad stares at me like he’s just putting it together that Odin Stag is related to Alder, Tucker, and Gunner Stag. “Your people play for the Fury?”

I bark out a laugh. “Well, yeah, man. Not sure about Gunny right now, actually. You know he got in a bit of trouble back in Vegas.”

Thora’s dad nods and crosses his arms. “Absolutely ridiculous to go there for pre-season.”

I hold up my hands because what am I going to do about my brother’s antics. Twenty minutes later, after a bunch of clangs from the kitchen, Thora comes up behind me again and leans her chin on my head. “You ready to go?”

I know that tone, and as much as I’d like to watch my brothers play hockey, I’d rather destroy the rental Thora and I got in my parents’ neighborhood. “Thanks for everything, Mr. and Mrs. Janssen,” I say, snatching Thora’s coat from the banister and draping it over her shoulders. “We’ll see you New Year’s Eve at my uncle’s house? For shrimp?”

Her parents nod and kiss her and hug her and pat my arms and then I’m back behind the driver’s seat of my G Wagon, massaging the steering wheel like it’s one of my girl’s thighs. “Hey, lady,” I whisper to the black leather glory. “You miss me?”

“Are you talking to your car? That’s it, I’m not letting you anywhere near my boobs.” Thora laughs and buckles her seatbelt, and I head east up Liberty Ave.

“Who said I want your crusty old boobs? Maybe I’m sick of them.” It’s a lie, and we both know it. I’m obsessed with Thora’s bra-free rack, and I reach across to give it a pat.

I screech the car to a halt in the driveway of the rental house, and she giggles and runs up the stairs to the front door. I run right after her, still appreciating how easily I can move around in the world after six months of intense rehab.The reward for all that is right here in front of me, stripping off her fancy pants lacy tank top, and holiday sweater.

“I love you,” I tell her, tackling her to the floor inside the front door.

She pounds her fist on my chest and laughs, tugging at my own sweater. I take mercy on her and kneel above her so I can undress more easily, but I keep a knee on her leg so she can’t wriggle away. I do love a game of chase with her, but she has me all worked up and I want her. Right now.

Naked, panting, I grab my length and give it a good tug while she watches, licking her lips. “You hoping for a candy cane, Thora? Something hard and sticky in your stocking?”

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