Page 150 of Heartbreak Hockey

“That’s okay, buttercup. If it’s messy, we’ll clean it up. Together.”

“Actually, perfect segue. Thanks. Together. We should have worked through this together. I mean, the time-out wasn’t a bad idea, but not the way I did it. I thought I could avoid you seeing me upset and that it would prevent further issues, but that robs us of growing together. Time-outs are for the purpose of taking a moment to find the right words to communicate with, not for dealing with our relationship on our own.”

“That’s what I want, Jack. The good, the bad, the ugly. I don’t care so long as we’re dealing with things together. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have the space you need though. I dealt with it badly because of my own issues and I’m sorry.”

“I know. Your family explained and the in-laws decided as a collective that Meyers should come with an instruction manual.”

I laugh. “Not a bad idea.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Merc. Can you forgive me?”

“Easily.” I rub noses with him. “I’m sorry too. Can you forgive me?”

“Waaaaaay ahead of you. I forgave you ages ago. Also, I told Rhett we can’t be friends.”

I shake my head and sigh. This is the harder part. “No. That’s not right. You two have history and I was jealous. I would like to put forth that we deal with our important shit together and Rhett can be brought on as council if it makes sense.” I’d love to be done with Rhett, but it’s hard to say if his dad’s gonna magically leave Jack alone now that he’s drafted or not. We may have to confer with him on this matter in the future. “Just like you want me to reroute what comes naturally to me—mopping up my parents’ oil spills—and confer with you, I want the same thing.”

“‘Course. Still, you’re way more important to me than he is. Let that be said.”

“I’m glad it’s said, but you two are gonna be teammates next season. You’ll have to be friends of some kind. Trying to avoid him on my account is stress you don’t need and it’s unnecessary.” I don’t want to think of next season for too long. I’ll be missing the hell out of Jack, while Rhett lives in his back pocket. Fun times. “Just maybe, take it easy on me and go slow with that?”

“You got it, babe.”

“Anything else?”

“Saw my parents have a fight for the first time in my life and realized that it was okay. The keys to good relationships are; respect, compassion, and love—perfection not required. I’m looking forward to being imperfectly perfect with you, Merc.”

Gripping his face, I pull him close so I can kiss him some more. I run through my checklist.Conversation. Spank him. Epic make-up sex.

We’re at the spank him part.

I rise so he follows me, our lips still locked. “What’cha doin’, Merc?” he mumbles against my lips.

“Gonna spank you until you know you’re mine.”

“Please,” he begs.

I forget that his shit is everywhere and accidentally step on something that goescrunchunder my foot. “Shit. Sorry, baby.”

“Don’t worry about it. I think I’m gonna get rid of most of this actually. I’m stupid rich now and can buy all new shit. Mostly did the whole dramatic move-in thing for impact. Your family said I’d have to show you how committed I was in a giant act of some kind.”

“They weren’t wrong. I think seeing you here with all your stuff did it for me. Pushing your way in here like that. Only a crazy person would risk my wrath.”

“Nah. I was safe the whole time because you love me.”

“I fucking love you, Leslie.” I refuse to deny it ever again. “Now c’mon. I meant what I said. This ass is mine and I’m setting a giant red flag on it.”

“You’re turning it into a giant red flag you mean,” Jack says.

That too.

We skip over his stuff, which is really starting to annoy me—we’ll have to get it sorted after the epic makeup sex—and I drag him to my bedroom. “This is where you sleep now,” I inform him.

“Hell, yeah, Merc.” His face lights, full of sunshine and I’m kinda pissed Rhett stole that name for him because that’s what he is.

Tugging on the hem of his sopping shirt, I pull it off him and let it lie in a puddle on the carpet. I take a moment to marvel at his hard body and the way his tattoos paint their way down his skin. There’s still some bruising from that last game, but it’s healing away.

“How’s this?” I ask.