66. DMITRI

66

DMITRI

She's running towards me. I'm out of my gear, left in base layers soaked in sweat. Words fail me. I forget to walk. All I can do is open my arms as she rushes into them.

My heart stopped beating from the second I told her that I loved her. I swear, it finally starts again because Kavi is hugging me.

My body shudders. This. I need this.

The game ended, the Cup came out, and the entire team celebrated on the ice, hugging and cheering through the ceremony and interviews. Now, the euphoric chaos is finally petering down. I don't have to stop myself from trying to climb the glass to get to her.

"You won," she exclaims against my shoulder.

"We did."

"That last goal?—"

My chest puffs. "I thought of you right before it went in."

"Me?"

"It's always you. All the time, Princess."

She pulls back, fingers tightening on me. "You said I love you. Before."

Her expression is cautious, but gentle. Not demanding at all.

I have to explain, but players are going to trickle past us any moment now. I tug her backwards against the flow of traffic. People congratulate us on the way, so it takes a while, but soon we're back in the arena. Behind me is the ice rink. Around us are thousands of emptying seats.

I let go of her hand. "Sorry."

My voice echoes.

She inhales, pulling away from me. "So you didn't mean it? It was in the heat of the moment or something?"

If I want, I can backtrack. I can save my feelings for later, for when I figure out the perfect way to do this.

My jaw ticks.

There are more reasons than I'll ever live long enough to count for why I love her, but what I need to put together is a list of why she could choose me. How I will make myself worthy, over and over again. I need to prove she can use me any time. I'm hers.

"You don't have girlfriends…" she mumbles. "I remember. It's okay."

My heart clenches into a tight fist. Don't have girlfriends…

Is that what she believes?

"Kavi." My brows come together. "Baby, I've never called anyone my girlfriend, because how could I?"

"I mean, if you wanted one?—"

"It wouldn't be fair."

"Why not?"

"Because I've wanted you for longer than I can remember. If it's not you, it's no one."

Her cheeks blaze pink. Brown eyes frantically search mine. "Since when?"

"High school."

"That's when we met?—"

"Like I said, it's always been you." I clear my throat as she keeps staring at me, blinking. "I'm sorry," I repeat. "You okay?"

"What are you sorry for?" she whispers, coming forward to clutch my shirt.

"Confessing. Tonight." I shake my head. "Can you wait for me to get it together? I'll do better." My voice is a low, pained rasp. "Let me prove I love you. I shouldn't have said it like that, even if it's how I feel. You deserve fireworks?—"

"Fireworks?"

"Bigger than that, actually."

She puts her palm on the center of my chest and pushes. Not much can move me without my permission, but all Kavi has to do is nudge and I'll follow her suggestion. I'm moving backwards. She's coming forward.

I hold my hand out, because there's a step down to go into the rink. She accepts the support, and seeing she's not as steady as me on ice, I palm her waist. "Tell me where to go."

"Yes—but do we have time? There's people wanting to talk to you. Interviewers. And the team—you have to celebrate with them?—"

"It all waits. Tell me where to go."

"Are you sure?" Kavi searches my eyes again as if that's the best way to read me.

"Nothing is more important."

She points, and together we go to our spot. Usually she's behind the glass but this time, we're both on the other side.

At my quizzical look, Kavi blushes. "I wanted to hear it again, in case I misheard."

"You didn't."

"Right before the most important game of your season and maybe your career, you told me you loved me?"

I gulp, going light-headed. "Yeah."

"How is that not firework-worthy?"

My chest flips. Does that mean…

"It was okay?" Fuck, my question is shaky.

She goes on her toes and grips the sides of my face. "I mean, I'm scared. Part of me is afraid to believe it."

I wince. "I know, I'm so used to keeping my reaction to you buried. Because it had to be for so long."

"You don't have to anymore. Like at all. "

"Don't tell me that. Because what I feel for you never dulls," I tell her, emotion gripping me by the throat. "It goes beyond everything else."

"Even hockey?" Her voice catches. "Sorry. I don't mean to make you pick. Of course, I wouldn't. I know you love it, too."

"Kavi. We're far past that. I could spend the rest of my life with you, inside you, and it wouldn't be enough. You get me to smile."

Her lips part. "You? Smile fully?"

"I'm getting there. But even my half-smile freaked out the team."

That makes her laugh, and I feel it again. Like I've scored the game-winning goal.

"When?" she wonders.

"When you moved in, it made me so fucking happy. I actually didn't believe I was smiling at first, but Hughes whipped out a mirror." I run a hand through my hair. "I'm rusty… at the emotional stuff."

Now there are tears in her eyes. "Dmitri."

I pick up her hand and kiss her knuckles. "Kavi."

"You're shy."

My head snaps up. "No one has ever called me shy before. They never see it?—"

"I care about you." Her voice is wobbly. "But it's not at all because of all the things you've done for me. You could take all of it away and I would still smile, so big, at the thought of coming home to you. And I'm sorry if no one has ever taken care of you, but I care. So much. And I want to show you I care, over and over again, and you have to promise me you'll not feel you have to give double or triple of it back to me. That you'll accept and take my care because you are enough without ever having to prop up anybody else's future or dreams or life again. Tell me. What are all your dreams? What makes you feel loved?"

"I want to know what makes you feel safe," she continues. "That you know you can count on me. You matter. So much. I'm going to bake you cookies all the time if they make you happy. And I want to watch your favorite shows together not just mine?—"

I cut her off with a kiss.

She moans against my lips. "Wait—I haven't said it back. That… I love you."

I laugh, genuinely fully smiling for the first time. Is this real? She loves me? I lift her into my arms and spin her around, savoring the sound of her laughter.

"Again," I demand. "Please. Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you so much."

"You're mine."

She laughs. "And you're mine."

"Say it again."

She does, countlessly. And I say it back just as much because I want to give Kavi my words as much as my actions.

Kavi Basra is my everything.

She's the one for me.

And I'm the one for her. The lucky grumpy bastard who gets to make her happy.

In the hockey rink that used to hold everything I thought I was capable of, I kiss the woman who taught me I can be more.

We spin and make promises to each other, saying words of love and care, taking this moment for ourselves, because the rest of the world can wait.

We've found each other.