Chapter 22

I turnedat the sound of the door cracking open.

"You busy, baby?" Mason stepped in, wearing a tight-lipped expression that immediately put me on edge.

Before I could get a single word out, my breathing had picked up. I had to know. "What's wrong?"

He swallowed and rocked back on his heels. "Langfield and Miller want to talk to us."

I brought my hands to my mouth and willed myself not to dissolve into tears. "Oh my God. Did Kyle say something?" My heart pounded and blood whooshed in my ears. Were they angry? Would they fire me today? God, I hoped they wouldn't yell.

"No." His tone was resolute, but his tight expression and the way he crossed his arms over his chest did nothing to ease my fears. "I told you Kyle would never say anything. They just want to talk." He tipped his head toward the hallway.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, I moved toward the door on shaky legs. "About what?" I wrung my hands as I passed him.

His shoulder hadn't been an issue in almost two weeks, so it wasn't that. Could it be?—

"I asked for a trade."

I stopped mid-step, and he pulled up short behind me to keep from crashing into me. "You what?" Turning so we were face to face, I studied him, searching for any sign that he was joking.

He gently grasped my arms and spun me around, then placed a hand on the small of my back and urged me forward again. "I asked for an east coast trade." He repeated the words, but they didn't compute. A trade?

He hit the button for the elevator and stepped in closer than he should since we were at work.

He was leaving Boston? My stomach sank.

"Why?" I breathed, my heart crumbling into pieces. "What does that mean for us?"

The elevator doors slid open, and he pushed me inside. Once they were shut behind us, he turned me to face him. "I don't want you to be just my trainer." He pinched my chin between his thumb and finger, forcing me to look at him. "You're great at what you do, Aurora. But after I got hurt, rather than putting my head together again, you put my heart together again. Life was good before, but now it's amazing. All because of you. I didn't know what was missing until you came back into my life."

I tipped forward into his embrace.

"I'm done hiding this." He pressed his lips to the top of my head. "I love you, and I want the world to know."

My heart tripped at his words. Wide-eyed, I pulled back and took him in. He just looked down at me, wearing a small smile.

The pieces of my heart that had only just broken were already stitching themselves back together again. "I love you too."

He dropped his lips to mine, and we stayed like that, without taking it any further, until the elevator doors opened.

He pulled back and rubbed his hands up and down my arms. "This will be fine. I promise."

I nodded, but the lump that had lodged itself in my throat when Mason came to get me was still there. Because I still didn't see an easy solution.

When we stepped into the office, the first thing I saw was Beckett, who was pacing along the windows.

"Have a seat." Cortney waved to the pair of guest chairs.

I wasn't sure whose office this was. Though he was sitting behind the desk, and I could have sworn the nameplate on the door had read Cortney Miller, a huge Langfield jersey hung on the wall. The shelves filled with books again made it feel more like the office belonged to Cortney than Beckett…I glanced at the jersey again.

Mason directed me into one chair, then he took the seat next to me and squeezed my hand, grabbing my attention. "It's fine."

I nodded.

"Is this team—the Revs—the only team you're interested in working for?"

I swung my head up toward Beckett, who now stood still, his intense gaze on me.

Of course that was the first question. Because in the end, they were not going to move him. They'd rather move me. I let out a deep sigh.

"If she doesn't want to move, then we're doing it. You're trading me." Mason's glare was filled with so much heat I swore the temperature in the room shot up. Without taking his eyes off Beckett, he yanked me out of the chair and pulled me to him. "I told you this already. Eleven years ago, I was a fucking moron. I didn't fight hard enough, and I let shit get in the way. Because of that, I lost her. But this time? That. Is. Not. Happening." He was practically vibrating with anger as he pulled me onto his lap and held me tight.

This was the furthest thing from professional decorum, but I didn't have it in me to stop him. It didn't matter anyway. There was no way they'd let him go, so they were likely ready to give me my walking papers, regardless of whether I was sitting primly in a chair or draped over my boyfriend's lap.

"I will fight for her, and I'll spend every day doing what I can to make her life better. She will give up nothing for me. Ever. Respect that, or I swear to God, I will buy out my contract and walk away from baseball."

That statement hit me like a physical blow. But at the same time, it sent butterflies flitting through my body. Because that might have been the sweetest thing I'd ever heard.

His next words were a whisper against my ear. "You are my priority here. Do what makes you happy. That's all that matters to me."

I loved him for that. But he also mattered.

"What a grand gesture." Beckett smiled. "I love that."

Cortney rolled his eyes. "Mason, Rory applied for a position with the Bolts. When that was filled and we offered her a job with the Revs, she took it. So could we maybe have a conversation before you make this decision for her?"

"What?" Mason's arms tightened around me.

I nodded and pulled back as far as I could, though he didn't loosen his hold. "I did. I always wanted to work with hockey players." I turned back to the other men in the room. "Are you asking if I would transfer to the Bolts?"

Cortney cleared his throat. "We can't have you both on the same team, so we thought…"

"We allow fraternization to a certain point. How could we not? My wife works for me. And I lived with this idiot"—Beckett jerked a thumb toward Cortney—"for almost a year. But you can't be his trainer." He nodded at Mason. "Hockey players, though, they get hit in the head all the time. They could use all the help they can get."

"You want me to work for the Bolts?" My mind whirled. Seriously? I almost couldn't believe it.

"Is that what you want?" Mason turned me to face him.

There was no stopping the smile that split my face. "That's what I've always wanted, to work for a hockey team. I would love that."

He ducked, surveying me closely. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." I nodded.

He turned back to face Cortney and Beckett. "Then there's no issue with us being together? Because she's moving in with me."

All the air left my lungs. "What?" We'd never even talked about moving in together.

His eyes were so full of love when they met mine. "Maybe not today. But eventually, yes, you're moving in with me. Then I'll propose, and then we're gonna get married and have five kids."

I was still processing his ridiculous statements when he addressed Cortney again. "So is that all okay, even if she works for the Bolts?"

This man. I couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled out of me. He was being ridiculous, but he was adorably ridiculous.

"I don't have a problem with it. I love love." Beckett smiled, his chest puffed out proudly. "See? My matchmaking skills have come in handy again."

Cortney sighed and hung his head. "Yeah, Beckett."

"You, Shay, Delia, Avery…"

"Not sure how you get credit for Avery?—"

"Oh, come on. It was all because of me."

"Actually," Mason chimed in, "pretty sure it was because of Puff."

"Anyway." Cortney shook his head. "We're all good. We'll have you sign some paperwork, and then we'll get everything transferred over and have you start…" Cortney glanced up at Beckett.

"Next week," Beckett said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Cortney made a choking sound in response.

Beckett shot him a disapproving look. "Why couldn't she start next week?"

"Shouldn't you check with your brothers?" Cortney prompted.

"No. I don't ask for their permission." Beckett shrugged. "I'll get everything taken care of."

"See?" Mason whispered against my ear. "I told you I would make it happen."

Maybe. Or maybe, all along, we were meant to be back together again.