Page 85 of Sexting the Coach
Despite the weird distance between us the past couple of weeks, I know what she’s talking about. Her brother, her family, her choices to try and make herself the shape that everyone else wanted to see.
And more than that, our relationship. Taking what we want even when everyone around us tells us that it’s wrong. That we shouldn’t be together.
At first, the Squids used our relationship for positive PR. Then, when we were no longer useful to them, they wanted to discard us.
I want the chance to see what our relationship might look like if it’s just for us. Me and Elsie, and nobody else. No opinions about the difference in age, no judgments about how different we are as people.
“But here’s the thing about my dad—he never let hockey get in the way of our family. And he never let our family get in the way of hockey. My primary takeaway for you tonight is that youcanhave both. You can have passionandlove. Success and belonging. All you have to do is give yourself the permission to go after it. Today, I’m going after everything, just like my dad always did. Dad—you deserve this honor and so much more. Ilove you, and I’m so proud to be at your side for this moment. Thank you.”
With that, she nods her head and steps away from the podium, out from under the golden pool of light and into the darkness of the rest of the stage.
The room erupts in raucous cheers.
Chapter 37
Elsie
“My primary takeaway for you tonight is that you can have both. You can have passion and love. Success and belonging. All you have to do is give yourself the permission to go after it. Today, I’m going after everything, just like my dad always did. Dad—you deserve this honor and so much more. I love you, and I’m so proud to be at your side for this moment. Thank you.”
When I step away from the microphone, the hot yellow beam of the stage light falling away from my body, I can hardly hear anything except the sound of my own heart, the blood pulsing through my body.
I have to go rightnow. I have to find Weston and tell him everything, even if that means leaving the ceremony early, and even if it means getting on a flight and going back to San Francisco right this second.
But it turns out I don’t have to get on a flight, because when I come to the top of the stage stairs, hearing the drone of the host announcing the next speech behind me, I look up from my feet to find Weston Wolfe standing at the bottom of them.
“Elsie—”
Maybe it’s careless to take the stairs as quickly as I do, especially pregnant and in heels, but I don’t let Weston finish whatever he has planned. Instead, I launch into his arms—like so many times before, letting the solid bulk of this man catch me, hold me, keep me from hitting the floor.
That first day on the football field, he held me to keep me from getting hurt. Then, outside the lodge, it was me tripping and falling into him that started this whole thing.
Or maybe it was before that. Maybe it was the first time I came to the Squids campus, looked up and saw him out on the ice with his players, coaching them through drills. Maybe it was the first staff meeting I attended, in which he scowled through the whole thing, and all I wanted was to see if I could make him smile.
And I could. Being the one to make Weston Wolfe smile is like pulling the sword from the stone.
Now, we collide, and I hardly have to lift my mouth up to his before he’s kissing me, his hand on the small of my back, his arms doing most of the effort to keep me solidly on my feet, drawn up to him.
Weston kisses me like it’s a statement, like he’s trying to say everything he can through the physicality of the thing. And I get every bit of it.
How he wants me. How he’s been thinking about me from the moment he left. I can even still feel the lingering cold air on him, and understand that he just got here, maybe only heard part of my speech.
That he made the decision to come back, to try one last time.
And, for a moment, it’s enough. It’s everything, the knowledge that he would come even after me telling him to go. The fact of his arms and his warmth around me.
When we pull apart, I realize for the first time that we have an audience—the other guys getting ready for the ceremony, to go up on stage.
Including my father. For a second, just before I catch his gaze, I worry that he’s going to be mad, that he’ll disapprove of the relationship, that the age gap is just too much for him.
But when my eyes meet his, he doesn’t look disappointed. In fact, he looks proud.
Great speech, he mouths, and his cheeks do that thing where they rise up under his eyes. It warms me, and I turn back to Weston.
“Your hair,” I say, and it shouldn’t be the first thing out of my mouth, but I can’t stop myself from reaching out, touching the tips of my fingers to the tendril of hair that’s fallen over his forehead. The streaks of silver are thicker now than they were the first time I saw his head without the hat.
“Elsie,” Weston says, and I realize his chest is heaving, just like that day he came to my apartment. His gaze on me is insistent, direct, his eyes moving back and forth between mine. “We need to talk.”
I nod, apprehension growing inside me. He’s right—kissing is one thing, but there’s still the one thing that I’ve yet to tell him. And it could change everything.
