Page 27

27

TAYLOR

I don’t feel like partying this New Year’s Eve. It’s a big phony holiday anyway. It’s just another day.

But I’m dressed in a cute Little Black Dress. I’ve kicked off my heels and I’m padding around Lacey and Théo’s house in bare feet, moving to the music Lacey has playing, holding a glass of champagne, a big smile fixed on my face.

It’s not a huge party. Some of the Condors management is here—Théo’s assistant GM Scott Jermey and their coach Dave Martin, along with their wives. Wyatt Bell, who lives in this same building, is here, and team captain Jimmy Bertelson and his girlfriend. Some of the Wynns, but not all, are here, including Everly.

Everly and I are going to share the bed in the downstairs spare bedroom, so we don’t have to drive home tonight. All the champagne, whee!

“Having fun?” Lacey stops near me and clinks her glass against mine.

“Sure.” I force a smile.

“I have to tell you something.”

“What?” I eye her curiously.

“That fight JP got in with Manny the other night . . . he did it because Manny insulted you.”

My chin nearly hits the floor. “What?”

“Yes.” She nods, shooting a furtive glance toward Théo. “That was why JP hauled off and punched him.”

I move my head slowly from side to side. “Oh my God. What did he say ?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. JP told Théo.”

I inhale and exhale. “Wow.”

“It’s kind of romantic.”

“He got kicked out of the game, suspended for the next game, and they lost both those games!”

“That’s how much you mean to him.”

“ Then why did he break up with me?”

“Uh . . . oh hey, I need to check on some food.”

Watching Lacey dash away, I shake my head.

Manny said something to him, about me . . . and JP punched him? I press a hand to my stomach. That would be just like him . . . getting himself in trouble trying to protect someone else. It was never about him. It was protecting another player, covering for the coach’s daughter . . . defending me.

Damn. It was my fault that he got in trouble. No wonder he broke up with me.

I guzzle some champagne to ease the tightness in my throat and head to the kitchen for a refill. I move to stand next to Everly at the island in the kitchen and grab a bottle, refilling my glass until the fizzy drink overflows. Oops.

The kitchen is crowded. Why do parties always end up in the kitchen? One of life’s mysteries. I pop a spinach puff into my mouth.

“It’s ridiculous,” Everly says. “No other team sport tolerates fighting.”

“It’s part of the game.” Wyatt Bell smiles from the other side of the island.

Man, he has a sexy smile. If I weren’t already in love with JP, I’d . . . Wait. That totally makes me seem like a puck bunny. I had a little crush on Bobby Ponomarenko when he lived in this house. Then I dated Manny. Then I dated JP. No good has come of any of it.

“Hockey should be about skating, speed, and skill,” Everly says.

I give her a thoughtful look as I sip my champagne. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard her defend fighting in hockey. Why is she arguing about it with Wyatt?

“What does your father think about fighting in hockey?” Wyatt asks with a glint in his eye.

“Please. Don’t bring him into this. He’s a dinosaur. Of course he thinks fighting is necessary.”

“It does have its place. Cool things down when the game is getting out of control. Send a message to the other team—and your own team—that bullshit won’t be tolerated.”

“How about sportsmanship and controlling your temper?”

I watch the back-and-forth with interest. Everly’s getting pretty heated, while Wyatt seems to be baiting her . . . and enjoying it.

“It’s a complicated issue,” Wyatt says.

“It’s not complicated. It’s simple—don’t fight.”

He laughs.

“How do you explain to your kids that it’s okay to beat someone up on the ice, but not off the ice?”

“I don’t have kids.” He shrugs.

I sense Everly grinding her teeth.

“That I know of,” he adds.

Now Everly actually growls.

“Kidding!” Wyatt holds up his hands. “It was a joke. Hey, we know what we’re getting into when we drop the gloves.”

“I don’t think you do. Men think they’re all invincible.”

He laughs again and lifts his glass to his mouth.

“Fighting is actually decreasing in hockey,” Théo puts in, stepping up to the island. “This season, there have only been point-two fights per game.”

Everly grins at her nephew. “Thank you, Mr. Stats.”

“Thirty years ago, it was one-point-three fights per game. So it’s changing.”

“Yeah.” Wyatt nods. “Better these days to ice the most skilled team you can—you have way more advantages than come from fighting.”

Everly’s jaw drops. “You were just arguing in favor of fighting!”

He gives her a slow, entrancing smile. “I can argue both sides of an issue. I was in the debate club in high school.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Everly’s eyebrows rise. “A hockey player in debate club?”

Wyatt doesn’t take offense. “I’m a master debater, sweetheart.”

I crack up, but Everly doesn’t seem to think it’s funny. Should I point out that Everly can also argue the other side of that issue? Mmm . . . nah.

Yeesh, serious sparks there. Interesting.

The music, the conversation, and the laughter get louder as the evening progresses. People are dancing out on the patio. Lacey warned me that JP might be here, but it’s getting close to midnight and he hasn’t shown up yet. I’m ashamed to admit I’m disappointed. I have to get over this.

Sadness washes through me. The bubbly champagne isn’t helping my mood. I want to go to bed, but I guess I have to hang in until midnight.

Lacey’s going around with another bottle of champagne, topping up glasses in preparation for midnight. Like I need any more.

The doorbell rings as Lacey’s filling my glass.

“Someone’s late,” I comment. And then, somehow, I know it’s JP.

The door opens and he walks in . . . accompanied by Byron.

“My baby!” I set down my champagne, hold my arms out to him (Byron), and he gallops toward me and leaps at me. I catch him, stumbling back a step, but I’m okay. “My Byron! What are you doing here?” I let him lick my face and then set him down. His tail waves excitedly. “Um . . . what are you wearing?”

It’s a . . . sweater. Different shades of blue, knit into a simple style, but it’s . . . crooked. One side is shaped differently from the other, hanging down nearly to his feet, and the neckline is uneven.

I look up at JP. He’s standing near me and he’s holding a huge bouquet of flowers—sunflowers. But not just any sunflowers: there are golden yellow ones, but also orange and red and brown, and some with all those colors, all with deep chocolate centers. They glow in the dim room.

I lift my gaze to his face.

He’s not smiling, but his eyes are intent on me.

“These are for you,” he says, holding out the flowers to me. “Happy New Year. I hope the year brings you joy and happiness and light.”

I slowly reach for the flowers.

“Do you know what sunflowers symbolize?” he asks quietly, moving closer to hand the bouquet to me.

“Um. No.” My heart is hammering against my breastbone. My mouth has gone dry. My hands shake as they take the flowers.

“They symbolize adoration, loyalty, and longevity.”

He’s close to me now, close enough for me to see his long eyelashes, the darker ring of blue around his sapphire irises, the carved shape of his beautiful mouth.

“Which I think is perfect for you,” he says. “Because . . . I adore you.”

I can’t breathe. I glance wildly around and yep, everyone’s watching this unfold.

“You’re loyal,” he says. “To your family and your friends . . . and even to me when I screw up.” He swallows. “As for longevity . . . I would like a chance to have that with you.”

My insides are shivering. My tongue feels swollen in my mouth and I can’t speak. My eyes probably look like they’re going to pop out of my head. I clutch the flowers tightly.

“I screwed up again,” he says. “Breaking up with you was the biggest, stupidest mistake I’ve ever made, because I love you. But this time, I’m trying to learn from my mistake. I’m asking you to forgive me. I’ll understand if you can’t. But I’m going to try to forgive myself so I can move forward.”

I’m blinking fast now, my eyes smarting.

It feels like everyone in the house is holding their breath, even though music is still pumping out of the speakers.

This is really . . . weird. And uncomfortable. But I’m just drunk enough that I don’t care.

“JP . . .” My bottom lip quavers. I step closer to him. I glance around. “I love you, too.”

He grins.

A cheer goes up around us.

“Oh my God.” I duck my head briefly. “What is happening?”

“I wanted to do this in front of everyone so if I crashed and burned, I’d be properly humiliated.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Yeah.”

Our eyes meet. We both smile. And I’m lost in it, twirling in a sparkling blue tornado, sucked up in JP’s beautiful eyes and warm smile and . . . love. There’s nobody else but JP in that moment.

“Can you forgive me?” he murmurs. “I was such an idiot.”

“Yes, you were.”

“I’m sorry. You inspire me,” he says in a low voice that only I can hear now. “I nearly killed your dog and you forgave me. I lost it on the ice and cost the team games . . . and you still supported me.”

I swallow, my throat feeling like a puck is lodged there, still focused on his face. “Yes. Because that’s what love is. But you have to love yourself, JP.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“I’ve been working hard. Trying to be better. I’m going to screw up sometimes and I know that’s okay.”

I touch his face. “We all screw up.”

I go onto my toes to touch my lips to his. This is met with a round of applause.

“It’s nearly midnight!” Lacey calls. “Let’s count it down!”

I set the flowers on a table and move into JP’s embrace. We watch each other as the others shout, “ . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one! Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year, Sunshine.”

“Happy New Year.”

He pulls me up against him, holding me tight, kissing me ravenously, deeply . . . melting me.

Everyone else at the party is moving around to kiss others. They ignore us, making out in the corner of the room, leaving us in our own little bubble. Eventually I pick up my champagne glass and take a sip, then hand it to him. He does the same, holding my gaze.

I look down at my dog.

“What is he wearing?” I ask again.

“I made it for him.”

I blink and roll my bottom lip between my teeth briefly. “It’s . . . amazing.”

“It was a hell of a lot of work.” He passes a hand over his forehead and back over his hair. “Why couldn’t you have a Chihuahua? I started it a while ago, but then I had to finish it before tonight. Everly came and helped me.”

“Oh.” My heart expands, so full of love for him I could burst from it. I’m full of helium, light enough to soar.

“Byron gave me a gift,” he says, as if I don’t know. “So I thought I should give him something.”

“It’s perfect.” That hockey puck has materialized in my throat again.

“I loved his present,” he tells me.

My smile is shaky. “Good.”

“And I am going to miss him. A lot.”

“I know.”

I soak in the love and worship I see in JP’s eyes and let myself revel in the fact that I can be honest with him, and love and worship him right back.

This is a moment. We’ve already had challenging moments, and if I’ve learned anything from my parents and what’s happened with them, it’s not that forever love doesn’t exist . . . it’s to appreciate the good moments. To take them and cherish them and keep them . . . and they, and maybe love, will last forever.