16

Milo

"Can I get you anything else?" Beth offers for about the gazillionth time.

"I'm fine," I reply, for about the gazillionth time.

She's been fussing over me ever since we got checked into this room. The wedding is well and truly off, and no one is staying, but venue staff instructed all guests to wait a few hours in their rooms to make sure there are no aftershocks before heading back. Beth and I have ended up in a room together. Seems to be a thing.

I don't mind her attention one bit, I just wish it came under different circumstances and that she didn't look so worried. I really am fine.

After racing back into the church, I quickly found Culver and a couple of our other teammates. Through the dusty haze, someone yelled out that Fraser, Evie, and the pastor had escaped through a side door. That left us free to help the remaining people still inside.

I came across a dazed-looking elderly man. He told me his name was Andrew Walsh and that he suspected his leg was broken. He didn't say anything about the gash on his face, and I didn't, either. If he didn't know about it, what good would it have done for me to point out he was bleeding?

I helped Mr. Walsh to his feet and got him out of there as quickly as I could. Thankfully, we were met by a paramedic right as Beth came over.

"Come 'ere," I say, patting the sofa. "Relax. Everything's fine. No one died or was seriously hurt."

Turns out it was a relatively minor earthquake. Well, as minor as an earthquake can be. Not being from the west coast, any earthquake is pretty major in my book. I suppose I'll need to get used to that. A few people sustained minor injuries, including Mr. Walsh, but he should be fine.

Beth drops down next to me. "You realize what this means?"

"No. What?"

She huffs adorably. "You're now my hero, and I have to respect you."

"You don't strike me as the type of woman that does anything she doesn't want to."

She bites back a grin. "Stop it. It's bad enough you're brave. Don't add charming to the list."

"I'm slightly offended you're overlooking my incredible handsomeness."

She releases a soft giggle. "Stop it."

I raise an eyebrow and stretch my arms out across the back of the couch. "Make me."

I'm expecting to be met by one of her usual quick-witted retorts.

I am not expecting her to jump into my lap.

But I'll take it.

This is way better.

She runs her hand through my hair, which I've left untied after taking a shower and cleaning up.

"I'm starting to like…this," she says, twirling a strand around her fingers.

"My hair?"

"No." She caresses my cheek. "This. Us."

My heart breaks out into a gallop in my chest, but I do my best to stay composed. Because there's an us. She just said there is.

Which means that my feelings aren't one-sided. My obsession about my daily kiss allowance? Totally a 'me' thing because, as has been well established, I'm weird. But the feelings I'd sensed, hoped, prayed, she was feeling, too, are real.

I gaze into her captivating hazel eyes. "And what would you like us to be?"

She rests her forearms on top of my shoulders. "I…I don't know."

"I don't believe you."

Beth is strong. She's the type of woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to say it.

Most of the time, anyway.

She lets out a shaky breath. "You make me feel things I'm not used to feeling."

"Right back at ya."

She bites her lower lip. "I have baggage."

"I have more."

"I also trust issues, Milo. Big ones."

"So do I. But…"

She squints. "But what?"

"I trust you. I always have, right from the start, Beth. Even when I was pretty certain you hated me?—"

"Just your man bun," she interrupts, smiling.

"Right." I run my hand up and down her back. "I've opened up to you more than I ever have to anyone else in my life, and I don't fully know why."

Her fingers skim over my stubble. "Because I make you feel seen?" Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

I swallow hard. "Yeah. You do. It feels like…like you're the only one who ever has."

"Does that scare you?"

I think about it.

It should scare the freaking life out of me. I've never opened up like this, been so raw and vulnerable with somebody. I'm accessing parts of myself I didn't even know I had. I should be petrified.

So why am I so calm?

Why does this feel so right?

What is it about her that makes me feel so seen?

I curl my hands around her waist. "No. It doesn't scare me. It should. But it doesn't. I generally have good instincts about people."

"And what do your instincts tell you about me?"

"That you're special. And funny. And smart. And beautiful…no matter your size." My gaze meets hers, searching for a reaction.

I went there.

Was it too far?

I stop breathing.

She smiles shyly. "Thank you for saying that."

I exhale then curl my fingers around her waist. "I mean it."

"So, to answer your question about what I'd like us to be…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm ready to take the next step. I'm ready to go from friends…ish to friends." Her smile widens. "And leave the door open for anything else that might happen in time. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like the best thing I've ever heard you say."

"Better than my suggestion of unlimited kisses?"

I tap my chin, thinking about it. "Okay. Equal best thing. Sorry. I have the most beautiful girl sitting on my lap, so you'll have to forgive me if my cognitive function is slightly impaired."

Her cheeks get dusted by the cutest blush I've ever seen.

She leans down, and we kiss.

Being called beautiful might be a new thing for her, and I'm going to have to walk a fine line between telling her how I feel without making her self-conscious or uncomfortable.

"There's something I should tell you," she says, her tone shifting as she climbs off my lap and perches herself next to me on the sofa.

"Go on."

"I'm a virgin."

"Okay." I run my hand through my hair. I suspected she was, so it's not exactly a shock. "I'm…not."

"Having children was kind of a giveaway." She bites her lip. "But is that a problem for you?"

"Why would it be a problem?"

She shrugs and looks away. "I don't know. Some guys?—"

"Ahem."

Her eyes meet mine, and her grin returns. "You're not some guys, I know."

I nod decisively. "I've worked extremely hard to establish my weirdo status with you, thank you very much. Please don't take it away from me."

"Stop. It."

I angle myself so that I'm facing her and take her hands in mine. "Beth, it's honestly not an issue for me."

"It doesn't change how you see me?"

"Of course not. Why would it?" She opens her mouth, and I bring my finger to her lips. "If whatever you're about to say includes the term some guys, I'm afraid there will be a punishment."

Her eyes shine with amusement. "Oh, will there now?"

"There will. I may just be forced to kiss you."

"You're saying your kisses are so bad that they're a punishment?"

"Er, wait." I chuckle. "Maybe I didn't think that one through."

"You're allowed a pass after what you did today."

I shrug it off, not wanting to make it a bigger deal than it is. Culver and my teammates did the same thing. I think most people in the same situation would.

I glance at her. I'm glad she's opening up to me, and I hope it's a sign she feels safe and trusts me. And I like that we can have a serious conversation in a lighthearted way. But there is something I need to know.

I gently lift her chin, guiding her eyes until they meet mine. "What do you need from me?"

The ball's in her court.

It has to be. She's in control here. I want her to know that.

She takes a moment to think about it before replying, "Time, I guess?"

"You got it," I say straight away.

"Are you sure?"

"I am. You can't get rid of me that easily." I look her in the eye. "What about the kids?"

"What about them?"

"Well, I'm kind of a package deal. Three for the price of one. That's a lot. Some women might?—"

For a moment, I think we're having an aftershock only to discover it's actually Beth clearing her throat. "Some women?"

I laugh. "My bad. You're not some women."

"Thank you."

"I just wanted to raise this because we haven't spoken about it yet. I'm a father, and I take that responsibility very seriously. Josie and Jonah are a huge part of my life, and they always will be. I hope that's not a dealbreaker for you."

"It isn't."

"Really? Because I remember you saying you weren't thinking about kids since they weren't in your immediate future, which is totally fine?—"

"Milo." She curls her soft fingers around mine. "I think Josie and Jonah are great."

"Yeah. They are."

"So let's just take it one step at a time, okay?"

I nod. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to navigate this or what to tell them."

"Neither do I. But we'll figure it out. For now, tell them we're neighbors."

I grin. "Neighbors who give each other cards with hearts on them."

Her eyes twinkle. "Exactly."

Having kids totally takes over your life. It changes everything—including dating. But Beth is giving me all the right signals that she's cool with it. It's not like we're getting married or anything, so I should probably just chill a bit.

"I love how you are with them," she says, looking me right in the eye. "Seeing you in dad mode is heartwarming and…"

"And?"

"And a little sexy."

I grin. "You realize my dad bod era is getting closer and closer by the day."

She giggles. "Stop it."

"So we're cool? About this? About everything?"

Her head bobs. "We are. And if things change, we'll talk. Right? I hate miscommunication."

"We'll talk." I switch hand positions and give her fingers a protective squeeze. "No miscommunication."

"Okay. Good." Her gaze meets mine, her eyes clouded with introspection. Something is still playing on her mind, I can tell. "I do want to have sex," she says softly after a beat. "I'm not waiting for any other reason other than…Well, I haven't met the right guy yet."

Could I be that guy?

Can't help it. It's the first thought that pops into my head.

A surge of hope courses through me, but I do my best to tamp it down. She's being vulnerable and alluding to the horrible way guys have treated her in the past, something that fills my vision with red rage whenever I think about it. My only job right now is to be here for her.

"I've been burned by guys before, so I need to feel safe. And I do feel safe with you, Milo. I do. But that's a whole other level of safe. Annnd I'm going to stop using the word safe now."

I swipe my thumb across her cheek. "You can say safe as many times as you like. I completely understand where you're coming from."

"You do?"

"You got treated badly. It's only natural you feel the way you do. I'll never pressure you, Beth. I swear."

She looks me straight in the eye, and it's almost like I can see her inner struggle, how she's torn between wanting to trust me and the doubts that linger because of her past experiences with guys.

I'm determined to do everything in my power to be a man worthy of earning her trust.

"I want you to know that you're the one calling the shots here," I assure her. "Anything that happens between us—or doesn't happen, and that's fine, too—takes place on your timeframe. Okay?"

She nods, but I can tell I haven't convinced her entirely, so I add, "Good things come to those who wait, Beth. And I need you to know I can be a very, very patient man."

Her whole body relaxes and she lets out a massive breath. "Thank you."

I extend my hand, hoping she'll take it, but she does something even better. She scooches down the couch to get in nice and close, slides her smooth palm across my cheek, and brings her lips to mine.

The kiss is soft and tender and…different somehow. I've never felt this close, this connected to anyone.

It's been a whirlwind of a day with the earthquake and the wedding falling through again. I feel terrible for Evie and Fraser, they really have the worst luck. But on the positive side, every time they try to get married, it ends up bringing Beth and I closer.

And today marked a huge turning point for Beth and me.

We're officially an us.

Even if I have no idea what our future holds or how to solidify an us into a real relationship.

Turns out, becoming an us with Beth isn't that much different from how we were before.

And it's all on me.

Well, on my insane schedule.

I've often wondered how players manage to have any semblance of a romantic relationship when the demands of the season are so grueling.

The travel. The training. The games. The media attention…

In the four months since Fraser and Evie's second wedding attempt—no word yet on whether there'll be a third—Josie, Jonah, and I have been in Comfort Bay three times for a grand total of less than eight days.

Subjecting the kids to a three-hour drive isn't fun, so most of the time off I've had after playing in LA, we've stayed in the city out of convenience. It's just easier that way.

Doesn't mean I'm happy about it.

The nagging sense that this can't continue has been intensifying and becoming harder to ignore.

Josie starts school in the fall. Jonah should be in preschool. And I want to be closer to Beth.

I need to make a decision.

Correction, I've already made a decision. What I need to do now is put it into action.

But first things first, I've got to deal with the seriously angry-looking forward barreling toward me.

It's the Stanley Cup final, LA Swifts versus the Boston Bullets.

The atmosphere in the arena is electric as the clock ticks down. We're leading by one with less than sixty seconds to go.

Padalecki charges down the ice, intent on closing the one-point gap and forcing a sudden death overtime.

I'm not going to let that happen.

With my gaze locked on him, I bend my knees slightly, ready to spring in any direction. My gloved hand hovers just above the ice in case he decides to shoot low.

Padalecki fakes left, then right, but I'm able to read him well. I've kept him scoreless against me all season, and I know how much he hates that. He's been trash talking me every chance he gets. Not gonna lie, the competitive, egotistical part of me loves that.

He takes the shot.

The puck sails into the air.

It only takes a split second for me to miscalculate.

The puck sails just out of reach, above my outstretched glove, finding the back of the net with a resounding clang.

The deafening roar of the Boston home crowd conceals my outburst of expletives. I hate letting the team down, and because of me, we're going into a sudden death overtime. That's where the first team to score a goal wins the game and the entire championship.

"Don't blame yourself," Fraser says to me as we return to the locker room to wait out the fifteen-minute intermission. "You were great tonight."

"Thanks, man," I reply glumly.

"I'm serious. Don't beat yourself up. I missed a shot in the second period."

I clap his back, and he smiles tightly. I know how much he wants to win. Evie's dad is an LA Swifts legend, so winning the Stanley Cup would be extra special for him. "We'll refocus, and we'll kill it out there."

He slaps my back in return. "Yeah, we will. Go, Swifts!"

The team gathers around the coaching staff to discuss strategies and adjustments. I throw back a Gatorade, determined to refocus. What's done is done. I can't do anything about that. I can only control my future—both on and off the ice.

I want to win as much as Fraser does. All the guys do. The ultimate dream of every pro hockey player is to lift the Stanley Cup.

And if we win, it'll be extra special for me, too, because this will be the last game I ever play.

Yep, I'm retiring.

It's the right thing to do, and it's what I want to do. I've never been more certain of anything in my life.

We head back out onto the ice.

The tension in the arena is palpable, the roar of the crowd a constant hum in my ears, but I block it out, focusing solely on the ice in front of me. It's sudden death overtime—everything is on the line.

As the puck drops at center ice, I crouch low, every muscle in my body coiled and ready. The Bullets take control, their players moving fast, weaving down the ice with precision. My defense struggles to keep up, and before I know it, Padalecki is winding up for a shot.

Time slows as the puck rockets toward me. I drop into a butterfly, pads out wide, and feel the thud as the puck slams into my pad. No time to think, just react—I sweep the puck away with my stick, sending it to the corner.

The crowd's roar intensifies, but I'm already back on my feet, eyes scanning for the next threat. My teammates regain control, pushing the play up the ice, but I stay sharp, ready for anything.

Suddenly, there's a breakaway—Fraser slips past the Bullets' defense, racing down the ice. The noise from the crowd swells to a deafening level, but all I hear is the pounding of my heartbeat and the rush of blood in my ears. Fraser approaches their goalie, the puck dancing on his stick, and then—he shoots.

For a moment, time stands still.

I hold my breath, my entire being focused on that one instant. Then, the red light flashes behind their net, and the horn blares through the arena.

My teammates leap over the boards, rushing toward Fraser, who is already being swarmed at the other end. Relief floods through me, followed by a wave of pure, unadulterated joy. I push off the ice and join the celebration.

We did it! We won the Stanley Cup!

The victory feels extra special because it was Fraser who secured the winning goal.

I'm cheering next to him on the ice when he pulls away from the team and finds Evie in the stands. She is jumping up and down like a pogo stick on caffeine, losing her freaking mind.

My eyes only notice the black-haired beauty standing next to her.

Beth is smiling, beaming with pride. She gives me one of her cute awkward waves, and as I wave back, my heart melts into a pool of gushing gushiness.

My feelings for her have never made sense.

She ignores me when we first meet, and what happens? I can't stop thinking about her.

She makes fun of everything about me, and my infatuation for her only grows.

She acts immune to my charms, and my feelings only intensify.

And as we slowly open up to each other over the past year and progress from a tightly regulated kiss regime to an uncertain future that hangs on the thread of a possibility of there being an us…I'm already gone.

Done for.

We're not even officially dating, but as I stare at Beth through the plexiglass panels, I know with all my heart and soul—I'm completely in love with her.