Page 124 of The Game Plan

“What’s really bothering you?” she asks when I don’t speak.

“I liked it,” I confess in a tight voice, my eyes finding hers. “Allowing myself to let go.”

It had relieved a pressure I’d felt building for what seems like forever.

She gives me a small smile. “It’s okay to get angry or upset, you know. If all this has taught me anything, it’s that we can’tplan life. It just happens. If you hold on too tight, you might break. And I don’t ever want to see you broken, Ethan.”

I don’t have it in me to explain the stark, gray terror I felt when I realized she was gone. If losing my temper meant losingher, I’d hold on to it as tight as I could. Because without her, I’d be broken anyway.

“Being with you. Loving you— You make me feel everything.”

Another step and she’s within touching distance. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No. I was numb before you. I want to feel. I just... I don’t want to scare you. I got angry, and you left. I thought...”My breath hitches. “You left.”

Green eyes stare up at me through clumped, wet lashes. “I needed air. You needed to cool down.”

“You didn’t let me finish back there. If you leave, I’ll follow. I’ll always follow.”

“I know that. In fact, I’m counting on it. But I’m done running. You’re stuck with me, Big Guy.”

She raises her hand a little, showing me the bag she’s holding. “I just thought I’d get you some gumbo. It’s cold and raining,and you love it—”

I grab hold of her and haul her close, wrapping her up in my arms. My lips find hers, cold and wet but perfect. I slip mytongue into her warm mouth where she tastes of rain and Fi. I cup her cheeks, try to warm her skin and kiss her until I can’tbreathe.

She leans into me, her raincoat squeaking, her soft breasts plump against my chest.

We’re both apologizing in the kiss, breaking apart and coming back together again and again, soft, deep, finding new angles.

With every touch of her mouth to mine, the tight knot inside my chest eases. I’ve made a habit of locking up my emotions andhiding them from the world. But this girl—the one who inspired me to sing my ass off on a stage, who brings me gumbo whenI’ve shown her my worst—she makes me whole. She helped me find myself.

Fi is done running, and I am over hiding. It’s as simple as that.

Our lips drift apart. Rain turns the world into a blur, but my mind is clear. “I love you. I don’t say that enough. Just knowthat whatever I do, wherever I am, it is a constant refrain in my heart. You color my world, Fi.”

She smiles up at me, her skin glistening and her eyes bright. Gently, she touches my cheek with her free hand. “Ethan, I mightnot be perfect, but no one will ever love you more than I do.”

I don’t think I knew how much I needed to hear those words until she says them. I rest my forehead against hers. I’m freezing,but my heart is finally warm again. I snuggle her closer.

“Youareperfect, Cherry. You’re my kind of perfect.”

“You’re my kind of perfect too, Ethan Dexter.”

That’s all I’ve ever needed.

Epilogue

One year later...

Fiona

The house looks perfect. Garlands of evergreen—entwined with twinkling white lights—grace the doorways, window frames andthe big fireplace mantel. Ivory pillar candles are set up in clusters, paired with clove-dotted oranges and sprigs of holly.In the corner by one of the big windows that overlook the street stands a twelve-foot tree. I kind of love the fact that evenEthan has to pull out the stepladder to decorate the top of it.

But he does the job with a smile on his face. He hangs little football helmets covered in glitter, deep red crystal cherries,die-cast commercial jet planes, even a blown-glass ornament shaped like the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Fi sure likes her themes,” Gray observes, helping out too.

Ethan grins, his concentration on hanging a tiny mic. There’s a flush on his cheeks that I know is from happiness. This year,our tree tells the story of us, and he knows the significance of each item I’ve picked.

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