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I give him a half-hearted smile. “Thanks for coming. And for getting me into Sharks,” I add. Honestly, I should be thanking him for Jordan, because without Sharks, maybe we never would have found each other again. But I can’t do that since no one knows about us yet.

Christian looks at me with a half-smile of his own and extends his hand across the seat. I take it and he shakes it firmly.

“No problem. You’ll be back on the ice before we know it.”

His words make my chest tight. I drop his hand and turn to see Britt with Bentley in his carrier, and I have to remember to breathe when I see Jordan helping her carry out the pack ‘n play and an armful of gifts. I don’t know what she’s saying, but whatever it is has him laughing.

“Right. Of course,” I say to Christian, but I don’t think he hears me. Instead, I smile as I meet Jordan and grab the gifts.

It doesn’t take long to pack them up in the car and head back inside. Kearstin is the last to leave, other than Jordan, who isn’t going anywhere. Once I shut the front door, the exhaustion hits.

I collapse on the couch and it all hits me at once. The tears come without warning and my chest tightens. I feel like I’m going to pass out.

“Alex, where does the—”

I suck in a breath. Why am I fucking crying? What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Are you okay?” Jordan asks, and I hear the concern in his voice.

I nod because I’m pretty sure I am okay.

I’m better than okay, I think.

I’m happy.

These aren’t sad tears, I realize. The sports announcers drone on and on on the television. The coffee table is littered with crumbs and half-eaten bowls of chips and dip and coloring pages and toys the girls forgot. The kitchen is a disaster with dishes piled to the ceiling.

But all I can see is him. I never want to lose this feeling.

I want to remember this day forever.

I want this— forever.

I grab him, pull him to me, and kiss him as the tears slide down my face.

The couch is a mess, and when I lean back, it’s on a doll that makes me wince because it digs right into my back. I grab it and fling it across the room. Jordan laughs as I settle against the couch and wrap my legs around him. We break away, and I notice it’s snowing outside.

“Merry Christmas, Alex,” he says with a grin.

I look up at him, my fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper as a new switch is flipped .

Hope blooms in my chest warmer than it’s ever been before.

Now I know what it’s like to have a home. One full of laughter and love.

I’ve always wanted to get married and have kids, but every time I let myself imagine it, I never saw a person.

I just knew that I wanted to be loved enough to be kept forever.

But as I look up at Jordan Mackenzie and his perfect, genuine smile, I finally see the vision clear as day. I finally see the person.

The words lodge in my throat because they’re too much.

Instead, I kiss him until I can’t breathe, until we’re tearing each other’s clothes off and he’s buried inside of me.

The tears fall of their own volition as I hold onto him tight.

His thrusts are slow, torturous. I feel everything, and it’s the most intense overwhelm.

His lips on my neck. His steady thrust and slow drag. My heart racing.

He whispers that he loves me in my ear as he drives me over the edge.

My fingers dig into his back as I breathe him in, as I feel him in every part of me.

I tighten my legs around him, his hand slowly squeezing and stroking my cock.

Sex with Jordan is always a rush and I love it.

Things start off slow, but they never stay slow. Not like this .

I like this, though. I could get used to this. I like catching my breath with him. I cry through my orgasm, but it feels good.

Because I’m happy. Because he makes me so fucking happy.

“I love you,” I whisper as I focus on the sound of his heartbeat in my ears.

We lay on the couch, a sweaty sticky mess, and leave the dishes until morning.

The months go by like seconds. We spend New Year’s Eve at his place getting drunk and fucking until the sun comes up.

We spend all of January finishing the upgrades on his house, together. It takes us a whole month because every time I put on my paint-splattered clothes, he can’t keep his hands off me.

He cooks me dinner for Valentine’s Day and fucks me over the counter for dessert.

Every day is better than the last and the pain subsides. From my leg; from my heart.

My days are no longer boring. They are full of things to do.

I spend as much time as I can with Britt and the kids during the day when I’m not at therapy now that I have a new mini-bestie to spoil.

Spending time with Bentley makes me think a lot about my dad and my brother.

Britt suggested I try to reach out, since as she says, “I’m in a better place,” and I guess she’s right.

I am in a better place. Because of Jordan.

He thought it was an okay idea, too, so I listened to them. I reached out.

My dad and I started golfing again, and while it’s awkward, he hasn’t complained about my shitty strokes, which I appreciate. I’m not sure we’ll ever have a good relationship, but he’s not bitching at me as much, so once a week is manageable.

“Are you nervous?” Britt asks as Bentley rubs his small head on my shoulder.

“A little,” I admit, chewing my lip. “It’s been six months. Jordan says I’ve healed beautifully, but—”

“I’m sure he did,” Britt says with a devilish smirk.

I cast her a knowing look as Bentley squirms in my arms. He looks damn cute in his little Rioters jersey. His sisters have matching ones, of course, because why wouldn’t they?

“Will you stop?” I tease her. I haven’t said anything to confirm or deny her suspicions, but she knows.

She knows me better than anyone, and I can never really lie to her.

“Well, I hope it goes well, for the record,” she says, watching me and her son.

I can’t help but stare at him. He’s getting so big already. I’ve never been home long enough to see the kids grow. Before my injury, I came home twice, maybe three times a year, tops.

Six months. I’ve been home for six fucking months. The truth hits me and I tense.

Jordan and I have been together for nearly five months.

It’s not long in the scheme of things, but… we have been together for five months.

And it’s been the best five months of my fucking life.

I regrettably give Bentley back to his mother, knowing if I don’t leave now for my doctor’s appointment, I’ll be late.

I’ve been late a couple times to therapy because I lost track of time because Bentley James Evans is my new favorite thing.

My heart is in my throat the whole way home. It’s Thursday, which means I’m at his place today.

After Austen moved out before Thanksgiving, I’d suggested we split things up.

As much as I love having him in my house and I want him there all the time , I know he can’t abandon his house.

Since December, I was cleared to be on my own.

I don’t need anyone to stay with me anymore.

I hate him not being here, but a little space is a good thing. I think.

The sound of The Fray’s “Look After You” fills the air as I drive down the winding road to Jordan’s house. There’s a decent layer of snow on the ground, but the roads are mostly clear. I thought I was going to pass out when the doctor said the words I’ve been waiting six months to hear.

“You’ve made a full recovery. You can go back.”

Just remembering the words makes me want to cry, but I can’t cry now.

Because the minute I heard those words, I knew I needed to tell him. Not only because he’s the reason I’ve recovered but…

Over the months, I’ve thought a lot about this moment. When it would inevitably come, what would I say? How would I handle leaving? Going back to PA?

Vance is out for the season on injury. I only know because I caught it on the highlights one night after Jordan fell asleep.

They didn’t say how he sustained his injury, but I know. I watched it with my own two eyes. He hasn’t pressed charges or called me or made any sort of contact since, which I’m thankful for.

I’ve practiced the words in my head for weeks, knowing this appointment was coming up. I had every hope I’d get the all clear, but now that I’ve heard the words…

It’s really happening.

It’s time to make a move, Alex.

When I walk through the doors, the house is empty.

Jordan won’t be home for a few hours. So I clean up the kitchen, and tidy up the living room.

I text Britt and tell her the good news.

I work on making dinner and chill some wine in the fridge.

Some fruity concoction Austen brought for the holidays that I can’t get enough of.

I love fruity alcohol. It’s my favorite.

I’m not sure if Austen did that on purpose, or if it was a lucky guess, but either way, I have a new favorite drink.

I’m relaxing with my glass as he walks through the door, hanging his keys up. I can’t contain my excitement and so I set my glass down and meet him in the kitchen. He hugs me. Kisses me.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” he asks, nearly breathless when he breaks away. I stare at his kiss-swollen lips, his flushed cheeks.

God, he’s so fucking cute when I catch him off guard.

“Penne Ala Vodka,” I say with a grin. “With pancetta. ”

He wrinkles his eyebrows. “What the fuck is pancetta?”

I shrug. “Delicious. You’ve eaten it before. It’s like fancy bacon.”

He shakes his head. “If you say so.”

My heart is in my throat again as I watch him move through the space.

“So, how’d the appointment go?” he asks as he plops down on the couch. I pour him a glass of wine and take my seat next to him.

He takes it from me, eyeing it suspiciously. He’s not a wine guy, but I’ll drink it if he doesn’t .

“It’s the stuff Austen brought to Christmas,” I say. “It’s good.”

He raises an eyebrow but takes a sip. “Not terrible.”