Pretty sure we’re a spectacle by this point, but I haven’t bothered to look beyond his face. It’s just me, this hard wall, and his dazzling hazel eyes. Lips I know as well as my own press against mine. I inhale him, the oxygen I need right now. Being near him is the only thing holding me together.
What will I do when I have to pull apart?
He deepens the kiss and I let him. I love being taken in every sense of that word and with Rhett it’s toe-curling. “Please, Jack. I’ll make you so happy. Every day for the rest of your life.”
I falter as he gets down on one knee, admiring for the hundredth time tonight how handsome he is. He opens the ring box again and presents it, eyes begging for me to just say yes.
His eyes aren’t the only ones on me. We’ve drawn a horde. They’ve mistaken my tears of anguish for tears of happiness. Couples crowd together with expectant smiles and the temperature of the room says they all wish they were me.
Our perfect Hallmark moment has arrived.
“Jack Leslie, let me make you an Elkington. We’ll have lots of tiny hockey players together.”
Inhaling a sharp breath, I imagine that life. There would be nothing wrong with it. The vivid colors of Jack Elkington fill my mind. I learned recently—from TikTok—that not everyone can do that, see pictures. I’ve always been able to do this easily, drawing whatever stories I like in my mind. Let characters drift there, interact and have whole lives.
I do that for me and Rhett, creating our perfect wedding in Italy. We’d buy a house somewhere in Point Grey, along Vancouver’s shoreline as well as one in the interior of BC for when we wanted to escape city life.
I’d take our duckling trail of mini-Elkingtons to the ice rink early every morning to teach them how to skate. We’d follow Rhett to the cities where hockey brought him to and the kids could cheer on their daddy while eating hot dogs and waving our New York Eagles foam hands for him when he scored goals just for us.
There would be times when we wouldn’t be able to follow him and I’d stay home with the kids, missing the hell out of him. When he finally did return to me, he’d fuck me into whatever surface was available, marking me in the way I love to be marked and making sure I knew I belonged to him.
I would be happy.
But I’d always be incomplete.
Rhett is the love of my life, but hockey is my soul’s purpose. Damn him for making me choose.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
Then I run.
Chapter1
Off-Season, Baby!
April 2024
One Whole Hockey Season Later
JACK
After stuffing the last of my sweatpants into my bag, I snag the cap sitting on the nightstand—huh, this one’s not mine, think it’s Dirk’s—and sling the entirety of my belongings over my shoulder.
Casey is quick to slap my ass as I pass by, en route to the front door where I drop my shit. “Ow!”
“Off-season, baby!” he hoots.
Casey’s built similarly to me, with wide, thick muscles, and broad shoulders, but his wild hockey lettuce is lush with dark curls that spring out of the bottom of the cap he’s wearing. He shines his impish smile while assessing me for damages. He knows I’m blaming myself for our shit season. A lot of opportunities were missed because I wasn’t at my best for every game. “We’re not gonna be able to remember our names after tonight,” he promises.
I’m all for that.
He’s wearing my hat. The brim’s near to worn out, but I’m keeping it forever. It’s lucky. Taking it off his head, I replace it with whoever’s I’m wearing.
Stacey barrels in through the front door, knocking into our stuff and then casts a skeptical eye over the bounty at the doorstep. He aims his apprising gaze at me, identical to the one I just got from his twin.
Okay, guess we’re all doing that then.
“Toldja we’d get it done, Stace,” I say. He’s a whole five minutes older than Casey, which seems to matter a lot to twins.
