Page 47 of The Goalie and Santa's Little Helper

“That is something. Your dad is a hero,” she says.

I nod and pull her in close.

“He is,” I hum, thinking of all the times he’s been deployed. He’s seen combat, and I’m certain that’s why he has never nudged me in that direction. There are things he still has a hard time talking about. But also, his dedication to the job is beyond admirable. He’s a true lifer. And now that he’s a colonel, he’s not facing the same risks overseas as he did when I was a kid. But the risks are always there.

“I really miss him sometimes,” I admit. “Even being away at school. I know if he were home, he’d drive down to watch the games.”

Frankie lifts her torso, resting her arm on my chest and propping her chin on her fist. I tuck my chin so I can stare into her perfect eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

My mouth slides into a faint smile as I shake my head.

“Don’t be. Missing him feels good because it means he’s important to me. I’m lucky to love my dad so much and to know he loves me back.”

Her eyes blink slowly, and she licks her lips.

“I know what you mean.” Her voice is hoarse.

“Hey,” I say, sliding down so our faces line up. I hold her forehead to mine as my thumbs stroke her cheeks.

“Your dad is going to be okay.”

She nods, her head rolling against mine. Those are just words, but I truly believe them. Anthony said he plans to get tested right after the holiday to see if he’s a match, and more of their family and friends will too. I’m willing, and I’m sure Frankie wants to, but if anyone else is a match, I hope she’ll let whoever it is step in and keep her from having to go through even more emotionally than she already is.

“Would it maybe help if I told you something I find scary?” My words are out before I really have time to think of them.Maybe it’s not the right time. Or perhaps it’s the perfect time. Whatever time it is, I’ve started now.

“Please,” she says.

Please.No backing down from that.

I bite my bottom lip and hold her gaze, moving my hand along her face until my thumb reaches her bottom lip, grazing her skin. My eyes go to her mouth, not in a hungry way but a needy one. A possessive one. Adoring one.

“I love . . .” My voice fails, only a stilted breath coming out. I laugh softly, overcome with nerves. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Frankie’s soft hands cup my face, her thumbs scratching against the three days of facial hair I’ve ignored. She seems to like it, so I figure why bother shaving.

“Hey, tell me. Noah, please . . . you can say anything to me.Anything.”

Her gaze pours into mine, and my heart is beating so fast I think it might explode. My palms feel sweaty. I should pull them away from her face. But I’m frozen. A little petrified. What if Anthony was right before, that I will fuck up her life.

“I need to hear something good, Noah. Please. Tell me something good. Something . . .great.”

My heart skips at the sound of her voice. She knows what I’m trying to say, and she wants to hear it. She wants me. This woman picked me way before I deserved her time or attention. The least I can do is cop to my feelings when she needs to hear the words the most.

“I love you.”

I suck in my bottom lip and widen my eyes, holding my breath as I hope like hell she says it back. Her mouth curves up at the corners, the stretch slow, taunting me.

“Show me,” she says instead. My insides rush with tingles, but not disappointment because I know she loves me too. She wants the distraction, to feel things that aren’t worry.

I roll her to her back and cage her between my arms, dropping my head down until my mouth captures hers. My teeth gently grasp her bottom lip as we kiss, and I coax her head up from my pillow, finally letting go as her hands snake up the front of my shirt.

“I love you.” I say the words again. They come easier this time. And I repeat them as her hands still over my heart.

She pulls my shirt up and over my head and I lower myself to her belly, my palm sliding up her thigh and under her nightshirt until her skin is bared to me. I kiss her stomach as she wiggles, arching her back as I slide the fabric up over her breasts. My fingers run over her hard nipples while my other hand slides behind the small of her back, holding her stomach to my mouth.

“Show me more,” she hums.

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