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He jumps up onto his tip toes and kisses me. “Of course I wanna go wherever you’re going. I just meant, if you want the Vancouver one more, we can find a way to make that work.”
“You’re amazing.”
Now he smiles. “I’m starting to think I might be.”
I laugh and mess his hair up.
“So what do you think baby? You, me, Nashville, country music and hockey? We’ll get some cowboy boots and a big bed and live our best life.”
He hums, closing his eyes. “That sounds like heaven.” His eyes fly open. “But, I don’t know the next thing about country music.”
“A little bird told me you can learn songs by ear, so I think you’ll be fine.”
I kiss him once more before tugging him away from the wall. I put his hand in my pocket to keep it warm, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles while we walk.
The chill is thawing in the air. Little flowers blooming everywhere with the first signs of spring. I’ll miss the seasons in the city when we move somewhere that’s a little hotter all year round, but I won’t have to miss this guy right next to me. If I play my cards right, I’ll never have to miss him again.
I sit in the stands,watching Pawlowski lead the team to a win against Clarkson – the last game before the first round play-offs where they’ll meet Brown. I’ve sat here for the past month, watching them win, watching them lose. Despite how much Mischa’s crushing it as captain, they’ve had some losses, but they’ve done enough to get to the play-offs.
I realize, as I watch them celebrate Chung’s last minute overtime goal, I’m not bitter, I’m not jealous. I’m happy for them. They’re my teammates, even if I can’t play right now.
Mischa skates up to the glass and bangs on it while he looks at me. I cup my hands around my mouth and hoot and he hoots back, the guys skating up behind him and joining in.
I wish my dad could see this. Wish he could understand what actually matters. Not standings, or getting more points than your teammates, or even making it to the play-offs, but this. People caring about each other, even when they don’t have much to bring to the table. I’m here, I’m supporting them, and they’re supporting me.
Stef leans over, so I can hear him over the noise.
“Does this mean they won?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Yeah baby, they won.” I tilt my head and give him a kiss and hear Mischa wolf whistle from the stands. I think it’s for us, but then the band strikes up another rendition ofSeven Nation Armyand I realize he’s whistling at Alice in her big sweater with her trumpet. I get it. Band nerds really are sexy.
Stef holds my hand as we walk out of the arena. My shoulder is still healing, but my surgery went well and Micheal’s working with me on the physiotherapy and we’re making progress withmy mobility. He’s optimistic, but I’ve accepted that I might not even be able to move my arm the same way I could before. That it isn’t only hockey the injury affected.
It’s crazy the things we do for what we love. If I’d have stopped playing after that first injury, like most normal, sane people would, then my arm would be fully healed by now and I wouldn’t have to worry about losing mobility. But I didn’t. And I don’t regret that. Because it brought me here. Brought me to Stef.
He lets us into our apartment, a few boxes sitting around, though we’re not even moving for another three months.
I love how excited he is for Nashville. This new adventure we’re taking together. He’s bought guide books and played country music non-stop since I told him about it. He’s even learned a good few songs on his violin and looked up instruments like the bouzouki used in country songs. He’s gonna smash it there in our new home. I just hope that I can keep up.
After he’s kicked his shoes off at the door, he turns around and pulls me closer by the suit jacket. Even if I’m not playing, I’m still on the team. Stef was right, they’re not kicking me out of school. But I do have to show up to every game in a suit, like they might put me on at the last minute. It’s a farce, but it’s worth it to graduate.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
He cocks an eyebrow.
“Seriously, I’m good.” I say, brushing his hair out of his face before bending down to kiss him. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
He hums and closes his eyes. “You are.”
“Come here baby.”
While I kiss him and let my hands roam greedily over his body in his clothes, I can’t believe this man is mine. That I get to touch him whenever I want (with his permissionobviously).Ican’t believe I get to kiss those lips. That I get to be naked with him. Make him feel good. Watch him come apart for me.
“Can we take this off?” I ask, tugging at his shirt and jeans at the same time.