Page 11

Dinner was pizza, delivered in a cardboard box that smelled like melted cheese and oregano, and Jamie couldn’t have been more relieved. She was too exhausted to cook, too overwhelmed by the clutter of boxes and the endless mental checklist to even think about where the pots and pans were. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the warm scent filled the kitchen, comforting and familiar.

“Poor man plates,” Kenneth had called out with a teasing grin, just before the boys—Kenneth, Boucher, and Zachary—ripped the lid off the pizza box and tore it into four uneven squares. They each took one with a laugh, balancing slices like it was the most normal thing in the world. She watched Kenneth exchange a look with Boucher—some shared joke or memory only the two of them understood—and they both cracked up laughing like kids at camp.

It was strange, she thought, how laughter could make a house feel more like home than any perfectly placed throw pillow ever could.

The three of them disappeared soon after into Zachary’s room, all energy and purpose, dragging tools and parts behind them. Jamie stayed behind in the kitchen, organizing the chaos in a slower, quieter way. She worked through the boxes methodically, placing dishes in the cupboards, sorting silverware into drawers, and trying to make sense of this new version of life. Each item unpacked felt like a step toward normal. Familiar plates stacked in unfamiliar cupboards. Glasses that had survived two previous homes now lined up neatly, ready to be filled with juice or wine or late-night chocolate milk.

When she found the box labeled LINENS , she paused. The bedding had already been set up in her and Kenneth’s room—by Kenneth, she realized with a blush. He’d chosen to put their room together first. She swallowed around the lump that rose in her throat and touched the soft cotton of the sheets, grateful in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just thoughtful—it felt like a quiet vow. I see you. I care about you. I want you to feel settled, too.

Jamie moved on, putting the towels in the bathrooms, and counting each set as she went. They had three bathrooms in the house—but only enough items for two. A small thing, but it tugged at her attention. She started a list: shelf paper, scented plug-ins, a shower curtain for the hall bathroom, and a bath mat that didn’t slide around like a death trap. These weren’t just supplies—they were anchors. Tiny pieces of comfort that would tell her brain: This is your home now.

She was just writing “command hooks” in the corner of the page when a blur skidded into the kitchen.

“Hey Zach-Attack,” Jamie chuckled, startled as her stepson—her heart still fluttered when she used that word—grinned up at her.

“Come see…” he cried, eyes alight, cheeks flushed with excitement. He grabbed her hand with both of his, tugging hard. The boy knew only two speeds: full-throttle and snuggle-mode.

She followed, laughing under her breath as he practically dragged her down the hallway. Her pulse quickened—not from the tugging but from the anticipation of seeing Kenneth again. Just thinking about his smile gave her a swirl of butterflies that made her feel sixteen all over again.

Yeah, she had it bad for her husband.

The moment she stepped into the doorway of Zachary’s room, Kenneth looked up, and their eyes locked. There it was—that smile. Warm, gentle, tinged with exhaustion but still so entirely him . For a moment, everything inside her went quiet. Safe.

But then her gaze shifted—and her breath caught.

Boucher was standing at the edge of the bed, patting the mattress as Zachary leaped onto it with a squeal, nearly knocking the man backward. The child was beaming— radiating joy. And Jamie understood why.

The bed wasn’t just a bed. It was a little boy’s dream.

A full-sized hockey goal frame flanked the side of the twin mattress. It extended from the wall, made of real metal bars and taut netting, and reached about three-quarters down the bed like a miniature arena built just for him.

“Is that… a hockey goal?” she asked, stunned.

“It is,” Kenneth replied, already moving it aside with a sweep of his hand. “Zach is five and still really little, so I prefer to have a net in place to keep him from falling out of bed—but when he gets much older we won’t need that. But it still has a certain ‘cool’ factor, doesn’t it?”

He smiled down at Zachary, who looked up at him like he hung the stars. Jamie’s heart clenched. There were moments you didn’t forget. This was going to be one of them.

“It moves easily, and when he’s going to bed, instead of having a bed guard—he can have a hockey goal that will do the same thing,” Kenneth said, voice softer now as he turned to her. “We can remove it later on if it becomes an eyesore.”

She shook her head slowly, still drinking it all in.

“No, it’s fine—I just forget that we’re part of a different community now,” she murmured. Her voice sounded far away like she was still catching up emotionally. “You don’t need files copied, mailings organized, meetings set up, or PowerPoints made for you—and it’s easy to forget that we’re in a completely different universe.”

Kenneth stepped closer, his gaze steady. “We are what we make our family—hockey is just an extension of that.”

“Exactly,” Boucher added, nodding, before he bumped knuckles with Zachary, then Kenneth, and—after a moment’s hesitation—with her too. It made her smile.

Jamie pulled out her phone, brushing a piece of hair from her face. “Let’s get a few photos so I can begin creating a few promos for the team,” she said, already clicking away, capturing the scene. The boys, the bed, the joy. The first moments of home.

* * *

H ours had passed in a blur, the kind of day that left her physically aching and emotionally threadbare. Jamie rubbed the back of her neck as she tiptoed down the narrow hallway of the new house, stepping over stray toys and around half-unpacked boxes that lined the walls like forgotten memories. Zachary’s bedroom was dimly lit by a soft nightlight. He was fighting sleep the way only a tired child could—whimpering, restless, too worn out to stay awake but too overstimulated to drift off.

She knelt beside his bed, brushing a lock of hair off his flushed forehead. “Shh, Zachary. It’s okay,” she murmured softly, tucking the blanket around his small frame. His fingers curled around hers instinctively, a silent plea for comfort. Jamie stayed like that for a moment, letting the weight of the day settle. A move. A new job. A new town. And now, this house that barely felt like home yet. She pressed a kiss to Zachary’s forehead, whispered good night, and gently slipped her hand free.

Jamie knew she was lucky that they’d taken to each other so easily.

Out in the living room, Boucher stood awkwardly beside the couch, surrounded by stacks of boxes and furniture still wrapped in moving blankets. Jamie offered him a weary smile as she handed over a folded pile of sheets and a couple of extra blankets. They were mismatched—one covered in cartoon whales, the other a faded gray—but they’d have to do for now.

“Here. Couch is all yours tonight,” she said, her voice softer now that Zachary was asleep.

“Thanks,” Boucher said, taking them with a nod. There was a heaviness to his expression that mirrored her own fatigue. It was more than just the exhaustion of the day—it was the weight of uncertainty. He looked like he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in a week.

The silence between them stretched for a beat, not uncomfortable, but contemplative. Jamie looked around the cluttered room and sighed. The chaos didn’t feel quite so isolating knowing they weren’t alone in it. Kenneth was putting away a few last-minute boxes – which is why she had sheets for Boucher.

“House is still a wreck and full of boxes,” she muttered, half to herself.

Boucher gave a low chuckle. “I wish mine was. I can’t catch a break.”

Jamie leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, as she watched him start to make up the couch. “You’re still trying to find a place?”

“Yeah,” he replied, dragging a hand through his hair. “Hitting every roadblock you can imagine – and then some.”

“You know, if you need anything, all you have to do is say the word.”

“I know – Kenneth said the same thing. He’s always been an amazing friend, and it’s good to see him again, and it’s nice to see the both of you happy.”

Jamie nodded, sympathy tugging at her chest. She knew what it was like to be juggling too much with too little support. They were all just trying to find their footing as the team came together. Once the season really took off, there would be practices, meetings, and games all the time.

According to Kenneth, the only players who had managed to make the move without disaster had been the guys who'd rented or purchased a condo—Acton and Lafreniere. Jamie could imagine them now, sitting in their clean, organized spaces, not tripping over boxes or digging through bags to find a toothbrush. She let out a quiet laugh, the sound tinged with disbelief.

“Apparently the only ones who had an easy time with the move were those who opted to take condos instead—Acton and Lafreniere.” Boucher muttered, giving a half-smile, already flopping down onto the now-covered couch. “And Savage hit the jackpot,” he added, shaking his head. “His wife had a place here she inherited.”

Jamie let out a low whistle. “Must be nice.” She just stood there a moment longer, taking in the quiet, the warmth of the space slowly beginning to seep in despite the chaos.

“Right?”

“Get some rest, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night – and Jamie?”

Jamie paused at the hallway, one hand on the entryway. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for not getting upset about Kenneth offering up the couch to me. His ex-wife would have been really upset, and you’re really good for him. I’m glad he found you.”

The words caught Jamie off guard, lodging somewhere deep in her chest. She turned slightly, just enough to glance over her shoulder. Kenneth had just walked into the room, his broad frame silhouetted in the low light as he bent to break down an empty box. It was such a simple movement, but to Jamie, it felt symbolic—like he was discarding more than just packing materials. Maybe he was shedding pieces of a life that no longer served him, quietly making space for something new.

She swallowed hard, her throat tight.

“Thanks,” she managed softly, though it felt inadequate.

Her gaze lingered on Kenneth, on the way his shoulders moved beneath his shirt as he worked. She wondered—not for the first time—what kind of woman his ex-wife had been. What kind of pain he must have carried, or still carried, from that relationship. It was hard to imagine someone like him, calm and capable, being with a woman who would make a guest feel unwelcome… and yet, he had. He’d chosen her, married her. Stayed.

For Zachary? Maybe.

Probably .

A knot formed in her chest at the thought. She wanted to ask him, to understand, to lay his past out like puzzle pieces and make sense of it. But she didn’t. Not tonight.

Digging into his history wouldn’t bring them closer. It would only stir up things that didn’t belong in this fragile beginning they were crafting together. Their connection was new, raw, and real, and she didn’t want to weigh it down with ghosts of a marriage that had already ended.

No, this was their fresh start—an opportunity to build something different. Something stronger.

She could wait. If the day ever came when Kenneth felt safe enough to talk about it, she would be there. She’d listen. Not to judge, not to compare, but simply to know him better.

As far as Jamie was concerned, the previous Mrs. Salas was a shadow in the past—one that didn’t belong in the light they were trying to create. There sure wouldn’t be another one after her. Not if she had any say in it.

She looked back one last time at Kenneth, still busy with the box, unaware of the quiet storm of emotion he’d stirred in her heart. Then she turned and walked softly down the hall, her mind full, her heart fuller. Yes, this marriage was going to be better than the last one – and she was determined to make it so.

Jamie padded quietly down the hallway, her footsteps soft against the floor as she made her way back to their room. Her heart was beating faster than she wanted to admit. The quiet hum of the house after a long day seemed louder now, stretching out the moments and forcing her to feel every second of anticipation.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she moved into the bathroom, drawing in a breath as she reached for the scented soaps Kenneth had gifted her earlier. She wasn’t used to this—being seen or cared for in such delicate ways. The soaps were floral, gentle, utterly feminine, and as she lathered the bubbles across her skin, she felt a strange sort of giddiness blossom in her chest like she was being celebrated. Adored.

Still, as calming as the hot water was, she rushed just a little, her nerves playing a tug-of-war in her chest. Part of her wanted to hurry—what if he was waiting? What if he expected something? But another part… the tender, careful part of her that wanted everything to be right, lingered. Because if they were going to cross that invisible line—if tonight was the moment—they couldn’t just leap and hope. She didn’t want a fall that ended in bruises. She wanted something soft to land on. Something real.

Toweled dry and wrapped in a fresh wave of sweetness, Jamie brushed her teeth and did one last check in the mirror. She tilted her head, adjusted the soft satin strap of the nightgown he’d chosen for her, and let herself breathe. The fabric hugged her curves like a whisper, a blend of elegance and vulnerability, and she felt beautiful.

Nervous.

But beautiful.

The house was quiet when she opened the bathroom door, and she let out a breath. Still nothing. That meant Kenneth was probably still in the living room talking with Boucher. That was fine. It gave her space, and maybe—just maybe—it gave him a little more time to decide if he wanted this, too. She resigned herself to a quiet night, ready to crawl into bed and collapse into sleep, when she turned the corner and froze.

Her breath caught.

Kenneth was sitting cross-legged in the center of their bed, dressed down in a T-shirt and shorts, casual and completely at ease—but it was the tray in his lap that made her eyes sting unexpectedly. Two snack cakes sat neatly on a plate beside a single glass of wine, and her heart turned over.

Her voice came out soft, warm with affection. “What’s this?” she asked, unable—and unwilling—to hide her smile.

“Well,” he said with a low chuckle, the kind that always made her stomach flutter, “there’s this girl I really want to impress…”

“Oh yeah?”

“She’s really special and keeps mentioning snack cakes…”

“Officially a fav…” she added, trying not to grin too widely.

“But I thought she might be nervous,” he continued, his eyes meeting hers with such gentleness that it unraveled her.

“She is,” Jamie whispered, her heart tightening with the admission. Saying it made it more real—how much this moment meant, how much she was putting on the line by being here with him like this. Dressed in the nightgown he chose. Everything about this was intimate. Tender. Exposed.

“So, while I thought ‘wine and cake’ don’t mix… but then it dawned on me that in a way - neither do we, but we work perfectly somehow. Maybe I’m trying too hard and just need to recognize a blessing when I see one – and I do. I see you, Jamie.”

She stared at him, wonder crashing into her chest like a wave. “Gosh, I love the way your brain works,” she blurted out, almost in disbelief. There was something so rare in him—this mix of wit and sincerity, charm and vulnerability—that she hadn’t realized how deeply she was already tangled in him. She climbed onto the bed, curling up beside him, close enough to feel his warmth.

He handed her the glass and picked up a snack cake, holding it out to her with a teasing smile.

“Boy, you just dive right in, don’t ya…” she chuckled, eyeing the wine and then the snack cake he was gently pressing to her lips.

“Stop, I’ll take a bite, but…”

“It’s because I can’t wait to touch those lips,” he murmured, voice suddenly low and charged with meaning.

Her breath caught again, and she swallowed the bite he offered her—whole. Her eyes never left his. There was something raw and honest in his expression that anchored her, and she felt something unspoken settle between them.

Then he tapped her glass, gently prompting her.

Without thinking, Jamie tilted the glass back and downed the wine in one go. The sweetness of the dessert still clung to her tongue—and the wine hit like a tidal wave of regret. Her whole body recoiled.

She grimaced and shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut as her taste buds waged war.

“That was awful together,” she admitted with a scrunched-up nose, her voice low but full of honest disgust.

Kenneth’s quiet laugh warmed the space between them— that soft, easy sound of his that somehow made even the most embarrassing moments feel safe. She narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a light swat on the arm.

“Keep your voice down, or Boucher will hear us,” she hissed, even though part of her didn’t really care. That man had already lingered too long in their orbit tonight. It was weird having another man sleeping under the same roof, regardless of whether he was on the couch or not.

Kenneth only smirked, leaning just a little closer. “It’s our house, and I hope he does…”

Her brow arched, suspicious and curious all at once. “Why?”

“So he knows I’m happy – and doesn’t overstay his welcome.”

Jamie blinked. Her breath caught, just slightly. That wasn’t some offhanded comment. That was real . That was him peeling open a piece of his heart and handing it to her without flinching.

Her chest tightened around the unexpected warmth spreading through her. His words hit her like the first golden light of dawn—gentle, radiant, and impossible to ignore. She saw it then—his intention, his honesty—and something shifted inside her.

He took her empty glass from her hand, slow and deliberate, and set it aside. There was a reverence in the way he moved, like he was handling something sacred. And maybe he was— her . The way his gaze traced over her, unhurried and aching, made her feel like the most precious thing in the world.

His voice dropped to a near-whisper, brushing against her like velvet. “Does my beautiful wife want another bite of her snack cake ?”

Her heart didn’t just melt—it unraveled. It unfurled and soaked up every bit of him. That smile, that ridiculous nickname, that steady presence that grounded her like roots burrowing into familiar soil.

“Does she ever,” she breathed, voice husky with something raw and wanting. He pulled her in, arms wrapping around her with such instinctual tenderness it almost undid her completely. Everything about him—the scent of his skin, the way his heartbeat thrummed beneath her fingers, the solid press of his body—it was overwhelming. And yet she knew it would never, ever be enough. Not when it came to him.

Kenneth brushed his nose against hers, lingering in that small, sacred space between breaths. She could feel the hesitation in him before he spoke.

“I want this, all of this, but if you aren’t sure… tell me now.”

Jamie’s voice trembled, but her conviction didn’t. “I want it all…”

He exhaled, and she felt it—a quiet surrender. But still, he wasn’t done.

“I’ve got a lot of flaws, and I’m going to make you mad, but it’s never on purpose…”

She reached up, fingers curling around the back of his neck, grounding them both. “I know,” she murmured, soft as a confession. “I know you’re trying, and when you have two independent people trying to take control, things clash…”

His voice cracked with something deeper. “I want you to need me – and I know you don’t. It scares me.”

Jamie’s heart clenched. That vulnerability—that truth—wasn't easy for him to say. And yet, here he was, laying it bare for her to see. He was dropping his walls, giving her a glimpse of the scarred man hiding inside.

“I do need you,” she whispered, holding his gaze with all the emotion she had bottled up for too long. “But not the way you imagine. I don’t need you to take control – I need you to catch me if I ever fall. Just support me, be there, and be the amazing man I know.”

“I’m here… and I’ll always be here for you.”

She smiled through the sudden sting in her eyes. “That’s what I want.”

He tilted his head slightly, the playful note returning to his voice, low and husky. “Is that all?”

Jamie bit her lip, heat blooming in her cheeks. “I think I need another bite of my favorite snack cake,” she crooned softly, her voice a sultry whisper that trembled with emotion, reaching up and nipping gently at his lower lip.

His intake of breath was telling.

Her fingers slid up the back of his neck, curling into his hair as she pulled him closer. Their foreheads brushed. She could feel his breath on her lips. She leaned in and gently nipped at his lower lip again, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt the shiver ripple through him. That subtle, involuntary reaction—she felt it, too. It sent goose bumps racing across her skin.

And then he kissed her.

Not just a kiss of longing or lust, but one that tasted like history, like every moment they’d ever shared, like forgiveness and dreams stitched back together. Passion sparked between them as his mouth moved over hers, firm and full of need. She melted into it, into him, into the safe, undeniable rightness of being in his arms again.

In that kiss, Jamie felt everything click into place. Like the weight she’d been carrying for far too long lift, piece by piece was suddenly lighter, as if he was there to help take the weight. There was no past to outrun, no future to fear—just the steady, unshakeable truth that this man, this moment, was everything.

Home.

Perfection.

Kenneth.

And she let herself fall as he whispered her name once more.