Page 109 of What If I Hate You
“No ‘justs,’” I cut her off, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her skin. “I get that it’s complicated. You said you love me. You fucking quit your job today because you love me…” She nearly rolls her eyes as if her quitting was only about me until I add, “Among other reasons.” I smooth my hands down her chilled arms. “And I love you. Blakely, I’m so in love with you it’s hard to breathe anymore without you near me. So, this is me asking you to take a leap with me. Let me hold your hand through whatever door you walk through next. I want to be here to support you and love you through every decision you want to make to further your career. Fuck Sports News Network. They don’t deserve you and I have zero doubt that you’re going to move on to bigger and better opportunities because you’re Blakely Fucking Rivers and you don’t fail.”
“But what if this time I?—”
“You are Blakely Fucking Rivers,” I repeat, cupping her face in my hands, my thumbs smoothing over the tears finally spilling down her flushed cheeks. “And you don’t fail. Do I need to say it a third time?”
She shakes her head, allowing me to dry her tears one swipe at a time.
“Good.”
She takes a deep breath and I watch her as she tries to steady herself. “Thank you, Barrett.”
I cup her face tighter, the weight of the moment pressing down on me, and lean in. Our breaths mingle before my lips find hers, soft but sure. The kiss is everything we both need. Urgent, tender, and real.
She responds, her fingers threading together at the back of my neck, pulling me closer like she’s anchoring herself to something solid.
When we finally break apart, her forehead rests against mine, breaths shaky but steadying.
“I need you, Bear.”
“I know you do. Let me get you home and then I’m yours,” I murmur, voice low.
She nods but doesn’t move. So, I slip my hand into hers, squeezing gently.
“Come on,” I say, leading her toward the bench. “Let’s get you off the ice and warmed up and then we can regroup. We’ll figure this out together no matter what comes next.”
I’d move mountains to see Blakely happy, thriving, and standing tall in the spotlight she’s earned. No team, no league, no pressure should ever make her doubt that. If that means standing beside her as she breaks down every barrier, then that’s exactly where I’ll be. Because I love her.
All of her.
Every challenge, every victory, every moment.
And damn it, I’m not letting anyone or anything take that away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BLAKELY
I’m snuggled in Barrett’s hoodie, curled into the corner of his couch like a half-feral cat, when the knock comes.
It’s not a polite knock. It’s more like the we-know-you’re-in-there kind.
Barrett shoots me a look over his shoulder from the kitchen.
“I didn’t invite anyone,” he says, which, given the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, means he absolutely knows who it is.
The door swings open without waiting for an answer. In storms Griffin, all six-foot-something of him, trailed by the rest of the guys and their wives and girlfriends. It’s like a hockey-themed parade in here. Jackets come off, shoes kick into a heap, and before I can process what’s happening, Barrett’s living room has been invaded.
“Surprise!” Marlee sings, shoving a bakery box into my lap and then giving me a hug. “Cupcakes. Because carbs are good for the soul and yours needs a little TLC.” She opens up the box and takes one out, shoving it in her mouth. “Also, I haven’t eaten all day and these smelled way too good in the car when I picked them up from the bakery.”
I blink at them all. “What… what are you guys doing here?”
“Uh, we’re here because we heard you had a bad day,” August says, playfully rolling his eyes and dropping into Barrett’s armchair like he owns it. “Duh.”
“What he means,” Ella cuts in, “is that when one of us has a day, we all have a day. Because we’re family and that’s what we do for each other.”
My throat tightens. “You guys…I quit my job today. I’m not exactly family anymore.”
“Bullshit,” Corrigan says, cocking her head and staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You think just because you’re not the hard-assed, take-no-shit female reporter in the press room anymore that any of these guys would love you any less?”
