Will swiped sweat from his forehead, using the motion of his arm to hide the flash of emotion he was sure had to show on his face. They’d just won their second game since his return, and the media still wanted to talk about Kristen, who he hadn’t heard from since her text last night. He locked his feelings down because he’d known this question would come, and he’d rehearsed his answer for it until he could say the words without emotion.
“Burke and I will do what we’ve always done,” he said in a flat voice. “We’re both out there to get the win, and that’s what we’ll be focused on next week.”
He’d tried to call Kristen three times before tonight’s game, and she hadn’t answered. That had hurt even more than the unanswered text messages and voicemails, because she’d given him hope. She said she missed him, too. So he’d spent the rest of the night and most of today hoping she’d missed him enough to answer when he called, but apparently not.
“Do you think Kristen will be at your game against the Marauders? Will she have to choose between her brother’s team and the Harriers?”
“She’s pretty busy, and we haven’t had a chance to talk about it.” He gave the man behind the microphone a terse smile. “Are we done here, or do you have more questions about how we played tonight?”
“How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s solid, and it won’t be a concern going forward.”
There were a few more inane questions before he was able to escape and head for the locker room. Instead of lingering and clearing his head as he’d done for pretty much his entire career, he hit the showers and got dressed in record time.
He was going to try one more time. He’d call, and if she sent him to voicemail, he was going to let her go. But he didn’t want to call her from the locker room or his car, so he needed to get home.
Several years after he signed with the Harriers and had earned himself a sense of job security, he’d invested in a condo close enough to the water to be overpriced but too far away to have a decent view. But he’d liked the neighborhood and the secured entrance. It was pretty unassuming on the outside, but the units inside were nice, and it worked for him.
He was driving past his building to turn the corner toward a shared parking garage when he noticed somebody—and it looked like a woman—sitting on the front steps, which was odd. There was a courtyard behind the building where residents could sit outside in comfort, rather than on brick stairs.
Then the woman lifted her head, watching as he drove by, and he slammed on the brakes.
Kristen.
He pulled the car to the side of the road with one tire on the curb and killed the engine. He could park it later. Or they could tow it. He didn’t really care.
Kristen stood as he walked up the sidewalk, brushing off the seat of her jeans, and he didn’t stop until he could reach out and pull her into his embrace. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and he squeezed her, inhaling the scent of her hair.
He didn’t know why she was there yet, but he didn’t care. She was here, and it was enough for a few minutes.
“I saw several missed calls from you when the plane landed,” she said into his coat, and he had to pull back a bit so he could hear her. “I was going to call you back, but I knew you had a game again tonight, and I didn’t want to talk to you on the phone anyway.”
“Let’s go inside. Do you have a bag?”
“I got a hotel room,” she said, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. “I wasn’t sure…I didn’t want to be sitting on your front step with luggage. Also, there’s a young woman in the Harriers office whose name I didn’t catch, and you can’t be mad at her. I told her who I was and that I was trying to surprise you but must have accidentally deleted the text with your address.”
“I’ll buy her flowers.”
“I think just not having her fired would be enough,” she said, and for the first time since he’d walked out of her apartment, he laughed.
He didn’t let go of her hand as he punched in the entrance code or in the elevator, and he didn’t let go of her while he unlocked his door and had the virtual gadget turn his lights on.
“Oh, that’s weird,” Kristen said, stopping inside the front door. “Your apartment is decorated a lot like mine, except your furniture is a lot newer. And probably a lot more expensive.”
“Décor compatibility gets added to the list, somewhere after sex compatibility and pizza compatibility.” She chuckled, but he could feel the nervous tension in her, and he squeezed her hand. “Take your coat off. I don’t have any alcohol in the house, but do you want some water or coffee or anything? I think I bought orange juice.”
“No, I’m good.” She pulled her hand free and turned to face him. “I came so we could talk. I realize now I had a really knee-jerk reaction to you leaving that came from my shit and wasn’t fair to you.”
“I shouldn’t have left. I should have tried to talk through it instead of walking out.”
“I don’t know that I would have listened, then. Erik told me I’d already made up my mind that you’d choose hockey over me and that I never actually gave you that choice.”
“He’s not quite as much of an asshole as I’ve always thought,” he had to concede, however grudgingly. “And, you know, it felt good being back on my home ice, with the crowd chanting my name. Both games were tough and we won them both, but it didn’t feel the same. I know what it cost me to play, and the price was too much.”
“Will, I—”
“I love you, Kristen. And you tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Sure it does. You tell me what I have to do to keep you for the rest of my life, and I’ll do it. It’s that simple.” His jaw clenched for a second before he swallowed hard. “If you want me to retire—to walk away from hockey—then I’ll tell my team tomorrow and make the announcement as soon as they give me the okay because my heart’s not in it and won’t ever be again if I have to give you up.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can. You’re saying it doesn’t work that way and I can’t do that, and I’m telling you absolutely it does and I can.”
“And then what? What are you going to do if you don’t play hockey?”
“Dust off that business degree? And I’ll eat more carbs. Refuse to ever do another front barbell squat. Enjoy the entire holiday season. Not give a shit how much I weigh. Soak in hot tubs because I want to and not because I have to. Then I’ll eat even more carbs.” He moved slowly toward her, his eyes locked on her face. “Most importantly, I’ll go to bed with you. I’ll make love to you, and then I’ll wake up beside you. Every day, for the rest of our lives.”
“Promising carbs and sex isn’t even fair, you know.”
“Are you still going to love me when I’ve been stuffing my face with carbs and stopped doing front barbell squats?”
She trailed her finger over his chest and down his rippled abs. “I think you’ll have to eat a lot of carbs before you can’t open my pickle jars anymore.”
He chuckled. “I can’t figure out if that’s a euphemism of some kind or not.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “But also maybe not. But I do know I’ll still love you when you can’t open my pickle jars, either literally or metaphorically.”
He bent his head to kiss her, but she put her hand on his chest and pushed him away. Frowning, he took a step back. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m not letting you retire, Will. That’s not what I came here for, and it’s not what I want.”
Fear shot through him. She had just said she’d still love him, so she did love him now. What had she come here for if not to work things out between them?
“I have some issues from growing up a Burke, to put it lightly,” she continued. “They’re old wounds I thought had hardened, but falling in love with you made me so vulnerable, I was too busy trying to keep those walls intact to see I didn’t need them. You’re not like m
y family. You’re especially not like my dad, and I think if I ever truly believed you were, I would have walked away. But I panicked and just had this need for you prove you cared about me more than you care about hockey.”
“I love you,” he said, looking directly into her pretty blue eyes. “I mean, I love hockey, too, but it’s my job. It’s not the same.”
“In my family, that kind of love is the same. But that’s on me, not you. I know you love me.” He watched her blink away tears, feeling a little choked up himself. This wasn’t easy for her. “I believe that, in my heart. And hockey is a part of you, and I love you. All of you.”
“You have to be sure, Kristen, because what we just went through? I can’t do it again.”
“I am absolutely sure. I know there will be times your focus is on the game, and times when your travel schedule might be inconvenient, but I’ll remind myself that it’s not a choice between me and the game. And I have to compromise, too. We’ll do it together.”
“I like the sound of together.” He caressed the side of her face with his thumb. “And maybe, if you let a little bit of hockey in, you can meet some people. There are a whole lot of hockey players out there with beautiful families they love very much. We can make this work because we love each other, and we’ll figure it all out. Together.”
“Do you think Baltimore will hate me as much as Boston hates you?”
He laughed, pulling her toward the couch so they could sit down. “No, they won’t. Your brother? Yes. But they’ll love you because I do. And you don’t have to move to Baltimore, you know. I know you’ll want to keep your apartment. We can bounce back and forth between your place and mine. If you find a great job in Boston, then I’ll have to be away a little more during the season, but it’ll only be for a few years.”
She turned toward him instead of sitting, and then cupped his face in her hands. “We’ll figure all that out. For now, just know that I love you and I’m always going to love you.”
“I love you, too.” He kissed her again, holding nothing back as he let the pain and loss of their separation go and simply rejoiced at having her in his arms again.
When he ended the kiss and stroked her hair away from her face, her eyes sparkled. “Who would have thought I’d end up married to a hockey player?”
His pulse quickened in response, and he grinned. “Are you proposing to me, Kristen Burke?”
“I’m not very good at waiting for a man to make the first move, I guess.”
“I do like that about you. And yes, I want to marry you. I want that more than anything.”
“We’re going to make a great team,” she whispered, right before he kissed her again.
Epilogue
Thanksgiving, almost ten months later…
“Another face-off in a neutral zone.”
Kristen laughed as Will stepped aside to hold the door to the restaurant open for her. “We could have spent the day at Dad’s, you know. I’m sure eating in the Erik Burke shrine would have done wonders for your digestion.”
“Your brother picked a fine time to remodel his kitchen.”
“You know he’s lying, right? The truth is, none of us can roast a turkey worth a damn and we eat here every Thanksgiving. It’s kind of a family joke at this point. Whenever there’s a family gathering, he claims he’s having his kitchen remodeled. Except last year. Andie made Thanksgiving dinner for all of us, but they broke up shortly after that.”
They checked their coats, and then he lifted her hand and kissed the stunning diamond ring she’d been sporting for several months before he laced their fingers together. “What do you think the chances are the sweater makes it out alive?”
“We almost never throw food at each other.” She grinned. “As a matter of fact, I think that was the very last Thanksgiving dinner we tried to make for ourselves. I like your family’s Thanksgiving better.”
It had been nothing short of a miracle that their schedules had lined up so they could eat dinner with Will’s family. While Americans were celebrating Indigenous Peoples’ Day in mid-October, Canadians were having Thanksgiving, and there had been enough of a gap in the hockey schedule and Kristen’s work with a Boston nonprofit to allow for a rushed visit home.
The Lecroix family had welcomed Kristen with open arms, thrilled Will was happy and loved. The Burke family was…trying.
He squeezed her hand. “I think your father said about ten words to me at your birthday dinner. Let’s see if we can get him up to a dozen today.”
“My no talking about hockey rule is more at fault than any feelings he has about you. I mean, not that he’s a fan, but it’s more that he literally has nothing else to talk about.”
“I feel like we could talk a little bit about hockey. In a general sense.”
“Only if you want the general sense of hot turkey gravy in your lap.”
He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “You’re pretty cute for a jinx.”
“Stop that.”
When both the Marauders and the Harriers went out in the first round of the play-offs, stunned sports fans decided it had to be Kristen’s fault. She’d jinxed them somehow by hooking up with her brother’s rival. That had been fun. Luckily, a series of bad calls decided the second round, and hockey fandom forgot about her as they united in turning on the refs.
So far this season, both teams were first place in their divisions, and the romance between Cross Lecroix and Erik Burke’s sister was old news, so she was hopeful that episode wouldn’t flare up again in the spring.
It was going to be a long time before Will let it go, though. He still thought it was hilarious, and she was going to have to update her will to add a clause forbidding him from adding it to her headstone.
Her father and brother were already at the table they’d reserved, and both of the Burke men stood when the host led Will and Kristen over. She hugged them each and then smiled when Will shook their hands without incident. The first time Lamont and Will had been introduced, her dad had tried to have one of those knuckle-crushing contests, and it was the last time he tried it with Will.
“So, the Hometown Hoser posted a video clip of you at last week’s game,” Erik said once they’d ordered a bottle of white wine and waters all around. The restaurant only offered turkey dinners on Thanksgiving, so they didn’t have to order the food. “Joel had to point out you weren’t wearing any team gear.”
Kristen laughed, even though her brother had broken the no-hockey-talk rule within a minute of them sitting down. “It was the first time I gave in to watching you two play each other in person. It was harder than I thought it would be.”
“Luckily, your brother never lets up on keeping his shoot-out skills sharp,” Lamont said.
Will and Erik exchanged a look that wasn’t quite a mutual rolling of the eyes, and then Will said easily, “You win some, you lose some.”
Lamont snorted, and Kristen felt the last of the anxiety she’d felt about this dinner fade away. Her dad was always going to take a shot on his son’s behalf if he got the chance, but Will and Erik were okay. The years of professional animosity would always be there, but they were learning to leave it on the ice where it belonged. And for Kristen’s sake, neither of them took Lamont’s bait.
Despite the tentative peace, an awkward silence fell over the table until Lamont took a healthy swallow of wine and then cleared his throat. “So, Cross—uh, Will—Erik tells me you and your dad went on a fishing trip during the off-season. Have you done any deep-sea fishing when you’re in Boston?”
“I’ve done a couple of excursions out of Baltimore, but never in Boston.”
“Erik and I have talked about doing one next summer. You’re welcome to join in if you want.”
Will looked startled for a second, but he recovered quickly. “Sounds good. I’d be up for that.”
As the servers set turkey dinners in front of them, Kristen leaned close to Will. “You should probably wear a life jacket.”
He chuckled and
squeezed her leg under the table before smothering everything on his plate in turkey gravy.
There was more hockey talk as they ate, but Kristen found she didn’t mind. The men kept it civil, and she didn’t feel that nope reflex in her gut that she used to. She even enjoyed going to the games, getting to know the wives and girlfriends of Will’s teammates, and she’d even gone to a few of Erik’s games. She divided her time between Boston and Baltimore since she could do most of her job remotely, but there were meetings and a few functions she needed to be in Boston for. The airport time could be a pain the ass, but they were making it work for the near future.
They hadn’t told anybody yet, but Will had decided he’d play out the two years left in his contract and then hang up his skates so they could start a family. She was holding on to her apartment in Boston, but they had plenty of time to figure out where they wanted to go after Baltimore, and how they’d split their time between the US and Canada.
“Have you guys picked a date for the wedding yet?” Erik asked in a way that made it clear he was having a hard time coming up with conversation that wasn’t about hockey.
“I was thinking we could squeeze it in during the All-Star break,” she said, and then she laughed when all three men stopped eating to stare at her in horror. “I’m kidding. Next summer, at a resort near where Will’s parents live.”
Between her friends and Will’s friends and teammates, they were pretty much renting the place out for a long weekend, but she knew it meant a lot to him to get married in Ontario.
“I never thought when I walked my daughter down the aisle and gave her away that I’d be giving her to Cross Lecroix,” Lamont said, and Will’s hand was on her leg again, gently squeezing. But her dad smiled and gave a quick disbelieving shake of his head before he went back to eating.
Later, after they’d consumed as much turkey and pie as they could eat and said goodbye to the Burke men, Will took her hand in his for the walk to her car.
Here We Go Page 13