Page 57 of Offside for Christmas
Ellie shifted closer, taking his hand in both of hers. "Cole, you're so much more than your career. You're funny, even when you're trying to be all grumpy and intimidating. You're protective—what you did in that parking lot proves that. You're talented—that pasta was genuinely art. You're trying to bebetter, even though everything in you wants to run away." She squeezed his hand. "That's not ordinary. That's extraordinary."
Cole stared at their joined hands, feeling something crack open in his chest. "You see things in me I don't see in myself."
"Maybe you're not looking hard enough."
"Maybe—" Cole pulled her closer, until she was tucked against his side, his arm around her shoulders. "Maybe I'm looking at the wrong things."
"What should you be looking at?"
Cole tilted her chin up with his free hand, meeting her eyes. "You. I should be looking at you."
He kissed her.
It was different from the cabin—less desperate, more intentional. A choice they were both making with clear heads and open eyes.
Ellie's hands came up to his face, pulling him closer, and Cole shifted to give them better access to each other. His hand slid into her hair, and she made a small sound that went straight through him.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Ellie's lips were swollen and her eyes were dark.
"Cole—" she started.
"Too fast?" He immediately pulled back, giving her space.
"No. I just..." She took a shaky breath. "I need you to know. If we do this—if we really do this—it means something to me."
"It means something to me too." Cole cupped her face with one hand. "Ellie, I need you to understand. This isn't—I'm not just—" He stopped, frustrated with his inability to find the right words.
"What?" she prompted softly.
"This isn’t just convenient. While I'm here." Cole made sure she was looking at him, made sure she could see the truth in his eyes. "Nothing about you is convenient. You're complicated andstubborn and you challenge me at every turn. You make me want to cook dinner and unpack boxes and think about Christmas and futures and all these things I've spent years avoiding. But you're also the first person in years who's made me want to stay somewhere. Who's made me think about a life that doesn't revolve around a hockey rink. So no, this isn't casual. And it's sure as hell not convenient."
Ellie searched his face, and Cole let her look, let her see everything he was trying to say.
"I want to believe you," she whispered.
"Then believe me."
"I'm scared."
"Me too." Cole kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips—soft and sweet. "But I'm more scared of not trying. Of waking up in five years and wondering what could have been if I'd just been brave enough."
Ellie pulled back to look at him, and whatever she saw in his expression made her decision.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Take me to bed."
Cole stood, pulling her up with him. His heart was hammering against his ribs, and when Ellie noticed his hands shaking slightly, she smiled.
"You're nervous," she said, sounding surprised and maybe a little pleased.
"Terrified," Cole admitted. They moved toward the bedroom, and at the doorway, he stopped. Turned to face her. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure." Ellie reached up, running her hand through his hair. "Are you?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
