Page 26

SIX MONTHS LATER…

ELLE

The late June sun bathes Dixon’s backyard in a golden glow, the kind that makes everything look like it belongs in a painting. My Adirondack chair creaks faintly as I shift, stretching my legs out and letting the warmth seep into my skin. A playlist hums softly from my phone on the small side table, a mix of mellow summer songs Dixon made for us for a road trip we took to Charleston not long ago.

The book in my lap is open to a page I’ve read three times now, but I’m not taking in the words. The rhythm of the music blends with the sounds of the neighborhood: the distant laugh floating on the wind, the occasional bark of a dog, the chatter of kids riding their bikes down the street. It’s perfect—too perfect to keep my mind focused on anything other than how blissfully happy I feel.

A breeze carries the faint scent of freshly cut grass and the sweetness of the lemonade in its glass beside me. I lift the book and hold it against my chest, tipping my head back to look at the sky. Blue and endless, dotted with a few fluffy clouds that drift lazily like they’re in no rush. I know the feeling.

There’s the soft creak of the screen door behind me, and I smile before I even turn.

“Caught you,” Dixon’s voice says, low and teasing. He steps out onto the deck, his long shadow stretching across the yard.

“Doing what?” I ask, tilting my head to look at him over my shoulder. He’s barefoot, wearing shorts and a T-shirt that looks just snug enough to remind me how much I like summer. His hair’s a little mussed, probably from his nap, and he’s carrying a bowl of what looks like watermelon cubes.

“Pretending to read,” he says, his grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I am reading,” I protest, though I’m already laughing. “But it’s turned into a quiet appreciation time. That sky is gorgeous.”

Dixon comes down the steps and crosses the yard to me, offering the bowl without a word. I pluck a piece of watermelon and pop it into my mouth, the juice sweet and sticky on my lips.

“It’s from the farmer’s market,” he says, settling into the chair beside me. He stretches his legs out, mimicking my posture, and it’s so effortless, so him, that my chest tightens with a wave of affection that feels almost too big to hold.

“Are you planting this in your garden?” I ask. Dixon’s been prepping a spot in his backyard for a garden, but I refuse to be the one to tell him he may have missed the boat for summer fruits.

“Maybe.” His eyes are twinkling. “But when I go play in D.C., that means if there is a garden, I’ll need help with it.”

We always knew it was a possibility. As soon as the season wrapped up, the NHL team in Washington, D.C., called him up to fill a spot on their roster. Dixon had recently signed with a new sports agent, and I have to admit, she worked her magic—securing one of the best contracts I’ve ever seen for a player in his position.

“I can help,” I offer, flipping a hand in the air like I have all the time in the world. “Or Hayden will. You know she loves it when she gets to come over with me.”

Ahh, the relationship shuffle. Yes, I’m––well, we’re because there is a Hayden––spending more time at Dixon’s these days than we do at the place I have in River City. Our place is perfect for Hayden and myself, but there's not a lot of privacy, like at Dixon’s. His backyard has become my sanctuary.

“Mom can help,” Dixon says with a shrug as he plucks another piece of watermelon from the bowl. “With her living here, life is going to be so much easier with the Nan of it all,” he says.

“It’s nice having your mom with you again, isn’t it?” Not that Nan’s not doing well. Nope. Not the case at all. In fact, she is thriving with her new carer, a woman named Delores, who gets along with Nan like a house on fire. Let’s just say these two are at the bingo hall twice a week these days, and Hayden goes with them at least one of the days because my niece is really an eighty-year-old woman disguised as a teen.

When Dixon got the offer, the one person he was worried about most was Nan. Thankfully, his mom stepped in and offered to move back to River City and help for a while so he can have a little more flexibility.

“I love it,” he says with a sigh. “It’s nice to have her back and have her and Nan with me, under the same roof. Well,” he rolls his eyes, “to a point. We’ll need to discuss living situations, but…”

“...there’s no hurry,” I say, finishing the sentence for him as he nods my way.

“Exactly. There’s enough on my plate to worry about,” he says, letting out a heavy sigh. “The season could be tough, with you here in River City and me there.”

“We’re two hours by car, or one hour if we fly,” I say, pushing my sunglasses onto the top of my head so I can look him in his gorgeous big brown eyes. “You know, out of anyone in the history of the whole world, I understand you need to do this. It’s more than deserved. It’s earned and now, you get to go back and play your heart out. So, Dixon Andrews, go to the NHL now, because you ain’t gettin’ any younger,” I wrap up, teasing as he playfully swipes at me.

Dixon stops laughing, his expression serious. “You know, I couldn’t say yes to them to step up if there wasn’t a you.”

“Stop,” I sit up and kiss him on his lips, soft and sweet, before settling back into the chair. “You’d be fine without me.”

I lean my head against the back of my chair, watching as he steals another piece of watermelon for himself. His arm brushes mine, warm and solid, and for a moment, we just sit there, the world humming along around us.

“You ever think about how this…” I gesture around us, to the yard, the sunshine, the ordinary magic of it all, “feels like a dream sometimes?”

I turn to gauge his reaction and catch him staring, his eyes sparkling with mischief, like he’s holding onto a secret he’s dying to share. I watch him, savoring the privilege of being the person he trusts with his inside thoughts. His smile shifts—softening into something so warm it sends my heart into a slow, joyful flip.

Then his expression changes. There’s something deeper now, a gravity in his gaze that makes the world feel like it’s holding its breath. He gives me the kind of look that feels like it’s carrying weight. A quiet promise of some kind, unspoken yet powerful enough to linger in the air between us.

“No,” he says, his voice steady as his eyes stay locked on mine.

I choke on a laugh, caught completely off guard. “No?”

His lips curve just slightly, like he’s savoring this moment, and he takes a step closer. “No, because I know it’s real. And I’m not letting it go.”

Before I know what’s happening, Dixon is out of his chair and down on one knee, fumbling with a tiny blue velvet jewelry box. His hands are steady, but there’s a softness in his movements, like he’s handling something made of glass and it’s fragile and precious. When he flips the top open, my gaze falls on the most gorgeous antique emerald engagement ring. Of course, it’s timeless and perfect. The man knows diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, but this woman loves an emerald.

My breath catches, and my hands fly to my mouth as the world narrows to just Dixon and the gleaming green stone, shining like it’s been waiting its whole life to sit in that box. My eyes dart up to his face, and he’s looking at me with so much love it feels like the air’s been stolen from my lungs.

“This ring,” he whispers, his voice steady and filled with meaning, “has been waiting. Waiting for the right person, for the right moment. Just like me. Waiting for you.” He takes a breath, his fingers brushing mine as he holds the ring out toward me. “You are my right person, my right moment. You’re my everything.”

“Dixon,” I begin, but he stops me.

“This isn’t how I planned it,” he admits with a sheepish grin, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink. “I was going to take you to Tommy’s. Even though you say it’s overpriced, I know you secretly love it. I’ve already reserved their private room for us and asked them to make sure it is stuffed with flowers, that the table looks romantic and sexy with candles…the works. But then, I realized something.”

I lower my hands, my heart thundering. “What’s that?”

“I’ve loved you from the first time you rolled your eyes at me, and I’ll love you for every moment after this one.” He takes a deep breath, his dark chocolate brown eyes locking on mine. “I don’t need a perfect setting to ask the perfect person to marry me. I need you. Because every moment with you is already better than anything I could’ve planned.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I blink furiously, not wanting to miss a second of this. “Dixon?—”

“Not yet, I’m not done,” he interrupts, his voice steady and sure. “You’re the sharpest, funniest, most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. You make me crazy, you really do, but you make me laugh. Loud and hard, and like I’ve got no cares in the world and I need that. You, Elle Carter, you make me better. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to. So, will you do me the honor of being my partner in everything and marry me?”

My throat tightens, and my brain briefly short-circuits. This man. This absolutely ridiculous, wonderful man is asking me to marry him. Me.

“Yes,” I blurt out, loud enough to make the birds scatter from the trees nearby. Then I laugh, because how could I not? “Yes, Dixon, I’ll marry you.”

His smile lights up his entire face, and he slides the ring onto my finger.

“It’s perfect,” I say, a bit surprised. I hold out my hand and look at him incredulously. “It fits like it was made for me! How did you…?”

“Hayden,” we both say at the same time. That girl, now I know why she was asking to borrow my jewelry so much a few months back.

“She brought me one of your rings so the jeweler could match it,” Dixon admits as he stands and holds me close to him. The next minute, he pulls me into his arms, spinning me around while I laugh like a kid at recess. When he finally sets me down, his lips find mine, and the kiss tastes like a promise—warm, steady, and endless.

“Not bad for an impromptu proposal,” he teases when we finally break apart.

“No, not at all,” I smirk, holding up my hand to admire the ring. “Though I’m still expecting a fancy dinner, complete with flowers and candles, please.”

Dixon chuckles, his forehead resting against mine. “Deal. But only if I can bring Nan.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “I wouldn't want it any other way.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he says, his tone teasing but also warning.

But I can handle him. “What if I wished for you?”

His smile widens as he wraps his arms around me. “I guess that makes me the luckiest man in the world.”

And just like that, the next chapter of our story begins.

***

THANK YOU

for reading Goalie Interrupted.