Page 18

Bennett

The Rinkside Tavern greets me as I step through the threshold. It's buzzing with the energy of New Year's Eve, and my teammates are all there, sporting their Miami Kings pride. This time, a lot of their family members are here to ring in the new year along with them.

"Hey! There he is!" My brother's voice slices through the din. I whirl around to catch sight of the two towering figures of my brothers, grinning ear to ear, flanked by their women who wave excitedly.

"Sorry I'm late," I apologize, though I know they don't mind. Media ran longer than expected, but hey, we claimed another victory for the Kings, so it was worth it.

"Better late than never, bro!" They slap my back with such enthusiasm; I almost stumble forward.

I scan the table, my gaze sliding past my beaming mother, settling on Gracie. There she sits, shoulder-length chestnut waves accentuating those striking green eyes that always seem to see right through me. She's in her element, yet there's a slight tilt to her head, a thoughtful curve to her lips that tells me she's not just here for the party.

"Hey you," I say to the woman who’s been on my mind nonstop.

"Hi, Ben," Gracie replies. Her smile is gentle, but she seems like her nerves are mirroring mine.

"Having fun?" I ask, slipping into the seat beside her.

"Always," she shoots back.

"Gotta admit, I love seeing you in my colors," I say, my gaze dropping to the Miami Kings jersey hugging her frame, my name emblazoned across her back.

Gracie turns, her green eyes locking onto mine, serious despite the revelry. "Bennett, can we talk?"

"Sure, after dinner though," I reply with a grin, patting my stomach. "I'm famished."

She nods, her expression unreadable, but she doesn't push it. For now, anyway.

Dinner is a blur of laughter and stories, plates clattering against the backdrop of holiday cheers from nearby tables. My brothers' jokes, my mom's giggle, and the easy camaraderie amongst my teammates fill the space with warmth. Through it all, I sneak peeks at Gracie.

As dessert menus are passed around, I lean over to Gracie. She's been quiet, picking at her food, the tension in her shoulders telling me whatever's on her mind can't wait until after the clock strikes twelve.

"Let's bounce before it gets too close to midnight," I whisper, tilting my head towards the door.

Her eyes widen, but then she nods, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. Without another word, I take her hand. We slip away from the table, unnoticed.

"Where are we going?" Gracie asks as we step into the cool night air.

"My house so it will be quiet," I say, squeezing her hand. "Just you and me."

Only a few minutes’ drive before I’m unlocking the front door to my townhouse and ushering Gracie in.

"Make yourself at home," I say, flicking on the lights. My place is comfortable but screams bachelor. I head to the kitchen, where the scent of dark roast soon fills the air.

"Cream and sugar?" I call out, hovering over the coffee maker.

"One sugar and a little cream, thanks," she answers.

While the coffee brews, I steal a glance at her standing on the balcony, silhouetted against the Miami skyline. She’s so beautiful.

"Here you go," I say, handing her a steaming mug as I join her outside. A city hum vibrates below us, but up here, it's peaceful.

Gracie wraps her hands around the ceramic.

"Talk to me. Don’t shut me out anymore," I start, leaning against the railing.

Her green eyes lock onto mine, and she finally lets me in. She tells me all the things my mother did, but with even more detail. I swear to God, if I ever play against this asshole, he will only leave the ice rink on a gurney and in the back on an ambulance.

The large clock hanging my dining room shows to be 11:59 PM, and Gracie and I are about to get our true beginning to the due over that we both desperately need. Turning to Gracie, I cup her face in the palm of my hand and look deep into those bright green eyes.

"Ten seconds," I whisper.

Gracie shifts closer. We count down together, each number punctuated by the steady beat of my heart.

"Three... two... one..." Our voices trail off as the night sky blooms with fireworks.

I don't waste a moment. My hands find her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks as I pull her into a kiss that feels like coming home. Her lips are soft, yielding. Gracie melts into me, her arms wrapping around my neck, drawing us impossibly closer.

The balcony, the coffee cups, the noise of Miami celebrations—it all fades into nothingness. There's only the heat of her mouth, the silkiness of her hair slipping through my fingers.