Page 18

Mila

I stir, disoriented at first, eyelids fluttering open to unfamiliar surroundings. Soft morning light slips under the bottom of the heavy roman blinds, just enough to bring me out of my deep slumber.

My heart jolts as confusion washes over me, but then awareness trickles in.

I’m not in my bed.

I’m in Penn’s.

I let my eyes roam the room. The décor is muted, dominated by deep grays and hints of charcoal, softened by crisp white linens and plush bedding.

Framed black-and-white photography lines the walls, stark and minimalist, echoing his personality.

A leather chair sits quietly in the corner, and a sleek, modern dresser spans the opposite wall, orderly except for a few scattered items—a watch, keys, and his wallet.

It’s a room that reveals very little about the man who occupies it yet feels intimate simply because he chose to share it with me.

Carefully, so as not to disturb the man sleeping beside me, I turn my head slightly.

Penn lies on his stomach, sheets barely covering his hips, one arm flung across the mattress toward me, the other folded under the pillow beneath his head.

His breathing is deep and even, relaxed in a way that he deserves.

His face is softened by sleep and I have to resist the urge to stroke my fingers over a cheek.

Yesterday’s memories rush back in a vivid wave, making my stomach twist and flutter in equal measure. The fierce argument, words sharp enough to draw blood, followed by that kiss—explosive, volatile, completely reckless.

And everything after.

Warmth rises to my cheeks as I recall the wild, frantic moment on the kitchen floor. Penn’s hands on my skin, rough but reverent, his body moving with mine, a perfect storm of anger and lust, regret and desire.

But what came after shook me to my core.

I’d expected the anger, or perhaps a retreat behind that icy wall he usually erects around himself.

Instead, he was worried about us not using protection, apologizing for it as if it were only his responsibility.

But with that out of the way, he stunned me by lifting me from the floor, carrying me silently into his bedroom and making love to me again. Slow, tender, deliberate.

I shiver, remembering the contrast. Penn had been quiet, almost solemn, as he touched me, as if each caress was a new discovery he’d been waiting to make. He took his time, watching my every reaction, gently coaxing pleasure out of me until I’d felt vulnerable, raw and undeniably seen.

And he never said a word.

Later, we’d drifted off into a peaceful sleep, tangled together, my cheek pressed against his chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear. We apparently parted sometime in the night and it looks like he’s a stomach sleeper while I prefer my side.

Now, lying here in his bed, the fragile reality presses heavily on me. I have no idea what to expect when he wakes. Will the brightness of a new day shine a light on things he’d rather not see or acknowledge? Will the walls slam back into place? Will he regret everything?

Anxiety prickles under my skin, urging me out of bed. Maybe if I can slip away quietly, I’ll have time to gather my thoughts. I can shower, make coffee, pretend to be composed and in control before facing whatever comes next.

I quietly roll away from the sleeping hockey god and gently slide one leg toward the edge. I start to scoot when an arm snaps out, strong fingers curling possessively around my waist, pulling me firmly back into bed and against Penn’s body, now facing me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, thick with sleep and something else—something deeper, unguarded.

His chest is pressed to my back, his arm tightening its hold. It feels possessive and secure, but I still don’t know what any of this means. “Thought I’d go start us some coffee.”

“It can wait,” he murmurs as he brushes his lips on my shoulder.

My blood sings and my skin prickles, and I wonder if he wants to have sex again.

I mean… if he does, I’m all in. Never in my life has my body responded the way it does to this man.

But he doesn’t do anything more than lie his head on the pillow behind mine.

My eyes lock on a framed photograph on the wall. It’s a perspective piece of a city building and I try to study it… find some meaning… while I lie frozen in place, wondering what’s going on between us.

The silence is deafening and it fills me with unease. I don’t know what to say to him, how to act. Once there is a kitchen table between us and I have some clothing on my body, I’ll feel better about whatever conversation we probably need to have.

“I’m kind of awake and ready to start the day. I’ll get coffee going—”

“We need to talk and might as well get it out of the way,” he says simply.

I squeeze my eyes shut. He wants to lay out the rules before I roll out of bed. Or perhaps here comes the kiss-off—it was all a mistake. It can’t happen again.

I preempt him. “We could probably both use some space.”

Something rumbles in Penn’s chest—maybe a scoff of dismissal? “I don’t think space is what we need right now.”

That’s even more confusing and I can’t stand not being able to see the expression on his face, so I push against his tight hold and roll toward him. Our faces are close, his green-gold eyes staring at me intently. I swallow nervously. “What do we need, Penn?”

He exhales gently, like it physically hurts to admit what he’s about to say. “I’m not sure. I’ve spent my entire adult life keeping people at arm’s length. No attachments, no expectations. Easier that way. Safer.”

“Then yesterday happened,” I whisper.

He nods slowly, jaw clenched. “Then you happened,” he clarifies with what sounds like a bit of frustration.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” His response is firm, leaving no doubt, but there is uncertainty in his eyes. “But I’m fucking confused, Mila. Everything I thought I wanted—solitude, distance—got blown apart in one damn afternoon. I don’t know how to navigate this. Or you.”

My chest squeezes, heart pounding. “I’m just as lost as you are. I didn’t plan any of this either.”

His hand lifts as if he wants to touch my face but drops again, as if he lost confidence. “I’m trying to think rationally right now. Trying to acknowledge why this is a bad idea. Trying to convince myself to put the walls back up, to send you away. But the truth is… I don’t want to.”

“Why?” It’s barely audible, as I’m afraid to shatter whatever fragile honesty he’s offering.

“Because you’re the only person who ever truly had my back.

You risked everything for me all those years ago, and I don’t think I ever really appreciated it.

Even though it pissed me off, you trusted me enough to stand by my side against your brother and the others.

No one’s ever committed to me like that.

” He murmurs. “It makes me want to fight for you too.”

My vision blurs, tears pricking my eyes, but I blink them away. “I’m so sorry about the news article. I never did it to hurt you, and I did try to stop it.”

His palm presses against my cheek and his lips curve slightly upward.

“I know. Still a little mad, but I get why you did it, and if I were in your shoes, I’d probably have done the same thing.

” He leans in, forehead touching mine and it’s such a pure, sweet expression of trust and vulnerability that my heart fully submits to him.

His words are soft, hesitant. “Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “But I want to find out.”

He exhales slowly, leaning back to stare at me again. “Are you sure? I don’t come with guarantees, Mila. I’m still figuring out how to be this version of myself. The version that’s capable of letting someone in.”

“I don’t need guarantees, Penn.” My words come out soft, steady, with conviction I didn’t know I possessed. “I just need honesty. From both of us.”

He stares at me, eyes intense, searching for something. Finally, he nods. “I can do honesty. But I don’t know what this is between us. I’ve never had a real relationship before, and I don’t even know how to share my life with someone. Trusting is very hard for me.”

“I can appreciate that,” I say with a grin. “But truly… we just take it one step at a time. No expectations. No promises.”

“That sounds doable,” he admits with clear relief in his expression.

“Good,” I whisper, tilting my face up toward his. “It’s settled then.”

The air around us is charged, the enormity of what we’ve decided settling heavily between us. But for the first time since stepping foot back into Penn’s life, I feel safe. Not just physically—emotionally too. Like we’ve finally reached a place neither of us has ever allowed ourselves to go.

Slowly, Penn closes the distance, pressing his mouth gently to mine. This kiss isn’t desperate or angry, not frantic like before. It feels like we’re sealing a pact. Like we’ve acknowledged that fate has something in store for us.

When we pull apart, he rests his head back on the pillow, tugging me gently into his arms. I settle against him, my cheek once again finding that comforting spot over his heart.

We lie quietly, absorbing everything we’ve just shared, uncertain of what the future holds, but no longer running from it.

Together. For now, that feels like enough.