Page 20 of Home for the Hockey-Days (Cedar Rapids Raccoons)

THREE YEARS LATER

M ost people have butterflies in their stomach on their wedding day.

Me? I get a dozen jackrabbits that seem to have spent an hour chugging Mountain Dew and eating candy corn. Ew. I hate candy corn.

I press my palm against my stomach, willing the nausea to stop. I’ve smoothed out my dress no fewer than three thousand, two hundred and six times. Every time I try to sit, I bounce to my feet like my ass is on fire.

August should be here any minute. The more I wait, the more lightheaded I become. I don’t know why I’m feeling so vulnerable, so insecure, when I know in my heart of hearts he’s every bit as excited as I am for us to get down the aisle and start the rest of our lives together.

The photographer checks something for the millionth time before offering me a small smile. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

I know. I’m not afraid he won’t show up. August always shows up.

I’m in a side room of the church. It’s small, smells of musty old books and nostalgia transports me back to our days at UCR when we spent time studying in the library. My chest still aches with the pride I feel for how much work August put into those last few months of our final year.

He passed his finals, graduated college, and his mom sobbed her way through our graduation ceremony.

I blink myself back into the present. My crap is strewn all around the small space despite the fact I just got here a little while ago. My parents are sitting out in the church having just renewed their own wedding vows only a few months ago before spending two weeks on vacation together in Thailand.

Mom always wanted to visit, and after surviving the worst parts of the past few years and Dad getting the help he needed, it was time for them to tick that trip off their bucket lists.

They tried to come in here with me, but despite their protests, I wanted to do this all by myself.

My heart pinches that my husband-to-be doesn’t get to have his brother standing next to him today at the altar. Despite not having any intention of repairing his relationship with Todd, I think there’s a piece of him who still wishes he was able to be here today. I rub at my chest, trying to scrub my nerves out of my body.

My bridesmaids aren’t even here yet, I came early for our “first look,” and I kind of regret not making my girls come with me.

Nothing would distract me more than Athena’s sharp wit and inappropriate comments. I thought when she finally gave in to her desires and settled down, too, that it might sand away some of her sharp edges, but I am gleeful to have been proven wrong. She’s still every bit the spitfire she was before. And then some. Some days I wonder how the hell Scott manages not only to handle her, but her brothers—his best friends—as well.

The handle of the door rattles, and I shriek. Glancing around the room I’m not sure where I can hide. For a strategic person, I didn’t really think this one through all that much.

The door springs open enough for an arm to pop through, hand open, waiting. The camera clicks in the photographer’s hand, but I ignore her. I ignore everything but my guy.

I shuffle myself across the room, pin my back to the door, and reach for his left hand with my right. The camera keeps clicking. As soon as our hands meet, relief unfurls the tension knotting my muscles, allowing joy to seep into my body, warming me up.

I blink back tears, fighting the welling emotions in my chest.

“You still want to do a sneak peek or whatever it’s called?” August’s voice is gruff, low, and laced with unspoken emotion.

I drop my head back against the door, as though it’ll fall against his. “Yeah.”

“Freaking out?”

“Yeah.”

His grip on my hand tightens for just a second. “Let me in, Row. I can’t take it anymore.”

I smile as I step back from the door, anticipation zinging through my body as I smooth the front of my dress for the three thousandth two hundred and seventh time. What if he doesn’t like the dress?

A bubble of laughter makes its way out of me. Is that what other brides think the moment before their soulmate sees them on their wedding day? What if they don’t like the dress?

The door swings open, and August steps into the room, blindfold firmly in place. The photographer positions him so he’s facing me, takes a few snaps, and asks me if I’m ready.

The warring bunnies in my stomach and my trembling hands might suggest I’m not, but I am. I’ve been ready to spend my life with August Kade from damn near the minute I laid my eyes on him .

Despite my readiness, I shake my head, wanting to take in my giant, the love of my life for just a second before he makes this about me. His broad shoulders perfectly fill out his custom made white tuxedo, he smells of mint and musk, and I’ve never seen shoes so shiny in my entire life.

I wasn’t sure we could pull off this black and white wedding, especially since I made him wear white, but as he stands there, patiently waiting in silence, I know I made the right choice. He looks like a beautiful fucking angel.

He’s had a haircut, he’s tidied his beard, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s even gone and gotten himself a manicure. I bet he went with Ares. I grin at the thought of the entire team getting mani pedis just for our wedding. It’s the kind of brotherhood shit they’d do together.

At my nod, the photographer instructs August to take off his blindfold. The action is slow, and it takes a second or two for his eyes to adjust to the light, but the moment he sees me, truly sees me, pure adoration registers on his face a beat before his tears fall.

The sight of my love, my heart, my gruff, angry, mean muggin’ man standing in front of me with tears trickling down his face, snaps every emotional cord that’s been keeping me together so far today.

I take a step toward him, but he holds out his hand to stop me. “Not yet. Let me just...” He sucks in a shaky breath. “Let me look at you, Rowan. Please? Just... just let me look. I need to soak this all in.”

My chest heaves with the weight of his stare as he takes me in from head to toe and back again. If he cares about the photographer seeing him cry, he doesn’t show it.

His eyes rake over the bodice of my black dress, pausing for a beat at my waist before traveling down to the floor again. “I’ve never seen anyone look so breathtaking in all my life, Rowan.” His voice is thick with emotion, and from the slow way he’s speaking, I can tell he’s choking back a meltdown.

I don’t know whether I want to hug him or fuck him right now. This man... this fucking man.

“You look stunning, baby.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Snickerdoodle.”

At that, his lips quirk, and he steps toward me. Cupping my chin with both his palms he breathes me in. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You must have been a murderer in a past life, Gussy.” I brush my nose against his. “Your punishment is a lifetime with me.” I wink.

This man is my hero.

He’s busted his ass to make his dreams come true, and he has. He plays for our local NHL team, we live in a comfortable house, with savings in the bank, and he drives a perfectly restored 1975 Ferrari 308 GTB with a mid-mounted 2.9 liter V8 engine. I don’t know what any of that means but I watched him piece it back together with his bare hands over the past year and a half so I know it’s a big deal.

But I also know that none of that matters to him, not truly. If you asked, he’d tell you his dreams came true the moment he met me, the moment he opened himself up to loving not only himself, but others. And while I can’t claim all the credit, I’m so relieved we weathered the storms and made it to this point.

I kiss him, an all-encompassing, deep and passionate kiss that I feel in every part of my body knowing that this man is my forever.

And I’m one lucky fucking woman .

Page 20 of Home for the Hockey-Days (Cedar Rapids Raccoons)

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