Page 132 of Thoroughly Pucked

A smile tilts his lips briefly, then he inhales deeply to answer, “It’s okay.”

“Does it hurt when you skate?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it hurts when I don’t skate. Mostly it doesn’t.”

“Is that good?” I ask, trying to read between the lines and determine if he’s really okay.

“I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

But I do worry. I stare at him with the same intensityhe gives to me. “Are you being Stern Brunch Daddy?”

“Maybe. But you love that.” He swipes a finger down my cheek.

“Ledger,” I implore.

“Trust me. I feel good, especially right now.”

My heart cartwheels. “I don’t want you to get hurt though.”

He pushes up onto an elbow. “I know you don’t.” He comes in for a brief, hot kiss. “And I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” He pulls back and meets my gaze with vulnerable blue eyes. “My dad wants me to go into the broadcast booth with him when I retire.”

Oh. I hadn’t even realized that was an option. “Do you want to?”

“I haven’t told him I’m retiring.” He drags a hand across his hair. This is hard for him. I set a palm on his chest so he can feel my support.

“Maybe you’re not ready to tell him yet.”

His soft laugh stirs the air. “Yeah, I’m definitely not. I’ll need to soon though. I saw him before the season started, and he mentioned working with him. It’s my last year on the ice, and I couldn’t tell my dad.” Another pause, the kind where it’s clear he’s deep in thought. “Aubrey?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know what I want to do when I retire.” It must be a hard thing to say, but he sounds utterly relieved to have said it.

I meet his gaze again. “That’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah. Maybe you’ll just…take time off.”

A smile shifts his lips. “Maybe I will.”

It sounds like he’s giving himself permission at last to think differently. He drops another kiss to my forehead. “I wanted to tell you all that for a while.”

“I’m glad you did,” I say, then pause. “Are you still having nightmares?”

“Not as often. Actually, a whole lot less. I think you were right. I was just working through stuff.”

“You sound like you’re coming out on the other side.”

“I think I am.” He slides his hand down my arm, clasps his fingers around my wrist. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted to see you at my games till you started showing up. Seeing you in the stands…”

My heart stutters as he trails off, the words clearly hard for him to say. I get that. He’s a man who’s been burned before. He’s a man who’s closed himself off. But he’s also a man who’s demanded the best from himself his whole life. Whose family expected the best from him too.

And he’s a man who possibly no longer wants the life that’s been ordained for him. “I’ll be there,” I say.

“Yeah?” His voice sounds like it contains all the hope in his heart.

“Yes.”

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