Page 42 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

THIRTY-EIGHT

“Baby.”

I wrap my arms around Mia’s waist and spin her, grinning like a damn fool. It’s only been twenty-two hours— yes, I counted —but I’m so fucking happy to see her.

Starting our date at sunrise wasn’t purely for the romance. It was strategic. Maximum Mia time.

“Didn’t we talk about this?” she grumbles as I set her down.

“I will always respect your boundaries,” I say, placing a hand over my heart, “but can you let me have this? Don’t take pet names away from me. I like you mean, just not that mean.”

An adorable furrow forms between her brows. “Fine.”

“Thank you, baby.” I press a kiss to the spot, and the line smooths.

From behind me, I grab a neon-pink helmet and place it onto her head. “Knew I’d get you to embrace reflective gear eventually.”

She peers around me. “We’re going on that ?”

“Yep. Don’t worry, this isn’t my first time.” I lean in, lowering my voice. “And we get more alone time, leaving the crew to trail behind us.”

Her lips twitch up. “You’ve thought of everything. What are we doing?”

“We’re living like locals. Well, slightly touristy locals.” I pause. “Figured you, being the travel addict you are, would want something authentic. So, I’m taking you to my favorite spots.”

She squints up at me. “How many times have you been to Hawaii?”

I tip my head side to side. “Three, I think. It’s one of my favorite off-season places to unwind. But I’ve never really had someone to share it with. Took my dad once, and a group of teammates another time, but never a… you.”

She wordlessly grabs the other neon-green helmet and motions for me to bend down. When I do, she carefully fastens it under my chin, her fingers brushing my jaw as she works.

I wonder if she even realizes how domestic this feels. How easy we are together. How right it is.

I’ve got just over a week to convince her, in case she hasn’t already caught on.

I hop on, bracing the moped and offering her a hand. She climbs on behind me, arms looping around my waist. I don’t miss the way her thumbs drag lazily over my abs.

“Ready?” I give her hand a quick squeeze before starting the engine, which lets out more of a whine than a rumble.

She nods, resting her chin on my shoulder.

We cruise along, adjacent to the beach, her laugh getting lost in the wind every time we lean into a curve.

After a while, we stop at a small roadside stand with a faded sign for malasadas.

I order an iced coffee for her and grab an extra donut for myself.

After she finishes hers, she steals a bite of mine, and I don’t complain.

When we pull up to Diamond Head, the sky’s starting to shift, soft and streaked with color.

The hike’s not long, but there are just enough steps to make you question your life choices. By the time we reach the top, we’re both a little winded and my shirt’s stuck to my back. But the look on Mia’s face as she takes in the view makes it all worth it.

The crew have picked a spot along the edge of the lookout, our backs to the rough concrete wall. Mia perches beside me, knees pulled up, eyes on the horizon—and mine on her.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is.”

The breeze is stronger up here, blowing her hair across her face until she catches it and ties it at the nape of her neck. When she turns and catches me still staring, she smiles softly.

I lean in to kiss her, but she pulls back at the last second. “We haven’t kissed on camera,” she whisper-shouts, eyes darting toward the crew.

“No time like the present, right? It’s a great time for a first kiss, if I do say so myself.”

“What about the curse?—”

“You can’t seriously think there’s any world where I send you home.” I brush my fingers along her knee.

“I would hope not. I’m not done trying ,” she huffs.

“Good.” I shift a little closer. “Then you can be the curse breaker.”

“I do like the ring of Curse Breaker .”

“See? I’m full of good ideas.”

She lifts a brow. “Let’s not go that far.”

“So…” I drop my arm around her shoulders, tugging her gently in. We’re already pressed together from the hip down. “Should we do it?”

She gives a small nod. “Yeah.”

I close the space between us, lifting one hand to her jaw, my thumb sweeping gently across her bottom lip. It trembles under my touch before her features soften, her lips parting. Her bright blue eyes lock onto mine, only closing when I’m millimeters away.

I kiss her, trying to keep it short and sweet. I don’t want to share it with the cameras, with the rest of America… with anyone else. Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, and I shift, tucking her between me and the wall at our backs.

I linger longer than I mean to. Pulling away is just as hard as it always is.

We’re still catching our breath, letting the moment settle, when I ruin it with a question that slips out before I can stop it. “Do you want kids?” I’ve been wondering where she stands ever since Bodhi accused me of getting ahead of myself.

She hunches forward, her forehead landing on my shoulder as she dissolves into laughter. “We go from our “first kiss” to children? No lead-up or anything? Just diving straight into the hard hitters?”

“I play hockey,” I tease.

“Slap shot?”

“Better.”

She keeps giggling, but I can see the shift in her eyes as it fades.

“You know what, never mind,” I say quickly. “We can talk about it another time.”

“No. It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Honestly, I’m kind of terrified by the idea.”

“Because of your mom?” I ask gently.

She nods. “Yeah. I know the odds are in my favor, but it still happens, you know? And once my brain starts spiraling, it’s hard to pull out of it.

The idea of bringing a kid into the world, and losing my life to do it, is fucking scary.

So, I’ve avoided thinking about it. I’ve never really had a reason to. ”

“Of course it is. I don’t want to think about it either.”

Something sharp tightens behind my sternum. The thought of losing her? Absolutely unthinkable. I don’t care about odds. I’d never risk her health or happiness—for anything.

“Forget I said anything. It’s too early for questions like that. Sorry. My brain-to-mouth filter slipped,” I add.

“I didn’t realize you had one of those.”

“Guilty.” I chuckle.

I intertwine our fingers and finally take in the view. Moments pass with only the chatter of other hikers and the wind.

I’m surprised when she whispers, “I wonder if she regrets it. Regrets me .”

The words knock the air from my lungs. I pull her into my lap, framing her face in my hands and tipping her chin until she’s looking at me.

“No. Never. That’s impossible. As someone who…” I pause, the words catching on a mess of emotion lodged in my throat. “As someone who thinks the world of you, I can say with absolute certainty: no one could know you and regret you, baby.”

Her breath catches, and she swallows again and again, but her gaze turns glassy despite her best efforts.

When tears streak down her cheeks, it wrecks me. But I’m grateful, too. Because for once, Mia’s not hiding. She’s cracked wide open, everything she holds so tight spilling out. And she’s trusting me to hold her through it. And I will. With both hands and everything I’ve got.

I kiss her cheeks, trying to clear her of the pain. I’d take every ounce of it if I could. Then I press my lips to hers in a messy kiss. One, I hope, says all the things I’m not.

When I pull back, I speak against her mouth, because I need her to remember this. “Never. Do you hear me? Never could she regret you.”

She nods, forehead resting against mine, breathing deeply through her nose. I can practically feel her reining it all back in.

And somehow, she does. She pulls back and meets my eyes, hers finally clear of the weight that sat there moments ago. In its place is that crystal-clear aquamarine I love so fucking much.

“But you do, right? Want kids? You said so when we were paddleboarding,” she whispers.

I shake my head without hesitation. “It’s not a deal-breaker.”

She studies me. “You said it was then.”

“Well… things change.”

“What’s changed?”

“Everything. And nothing at all.”

She bites her bottom lip, and I want to kiss her again. Instead, she tucks her head into the curve of my neck and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. I close my eyes, hoping to forget about the cameras for a minute longer.

“Where to next?” she asks.

Just as quickly as she let her guard down, she pulls it back up.

The day passes too quickly. We grab lunch from a food truck, trading bites while sitting on a curb and people-watching. Later, we pass a group of street performers. One of the hula dancers beckons Mia in, and to my surprise, she goes—her smile wider and more carefree than I’ve ever seen.

We stop for shaved ice next, bright red syrup staining her lips. At a roadside fruit stand, she talks me into trying some kind of passionfruit thing that’s messier than it’s worth. But I’d do it again, if only to hear her laugh when it drips down my arm and stains my shirt.

We practically have to roll ourselves home with how much we’ve eaten. My stomach aches from so much laughter. The day is light, free of the heaviness we worked through before the sun came up.

And when it sets, I kiss her goodnight.

It isn’t until I’m walking back to my room that I realize, with how easily Mia takes over every single thought when we’re together, I never told her about what happened with Emma.