Collide: A Hockey Romance, page 34
Summer’s smiling when I snake my arms around her waist. “I’m proud of you.”
Her cheeks blush. “Me? You just won a championship. All I did was talk to my dad.”
“Both equally important victories. We did good today, Preston.”
She smiles brightly. “We did.”
When cheers erupt, my attention follows the team heading to the locker room. “I gotta head in. Meet me at the hotel?”
“Actually, I think I have a better plan.”
IT’S PAST MIDNIGHT. The post-game celebration went on for hours, not including the time it took to shower the champagne off. I tried to stay sober, but being the captain means celebration is necessary. This time Kilner even indulged, but he left soon after because he didn’t want us to see him drunk. The way he slurred his words and allowed a stray tear to slip down his cheek during his heartfelt speech told me he’s an emotional drunk. Kian recorded the entire thing to watch later.
“It’s a surprise!” Summer says, trying to focus on driving.
When we exited the arena, Summer rounded us up, and we shuffled into a car. The guys, Cassie, and Amara piled into the back. Apparently, Amara’s date, Bennett, said we could borrow his van. Summer invited the rest of the team, but they were still getting wasted. Our bus back to Dalton leaves tomorrow afternoon, so we have tonight to celebrate.
“You can give me a hint. Come on, I’m too drunk to even remember it long enough to spoil it for anyone,” Kian says loudly, even though he thinks he's whispering.
Summer blows out a breath. “You’ll see it with everyone else. I’m not playing favorites.”
“I’m your favorite? I knew it,” he whispers excitedly. “Did you hear that? I’m Sunny’s favorite, you all can suck it.”
The car erupts in grumbles, most of them telling him to shut up or threatening to throw him out the window. Which I’d be all for because he’s been jabbering the entire drive. An exhausted Eli made us pull over earlier because Dylan placed the godforsaken wedding cake topper on Kian’s seat. He managed to separate them, but that meant Kian was directly behind the driver’s seat, annoying us.
“I feel like a bad boyfriend for making you drive.”
Summer glances at me, probably noticing I’ve sobered up a great deal because two hours ago at the arena, I was singing her love songs and holding her tight.
“You’re my passenger princess. Just look pretty and tell me the wrong directions,” she says, patting my thigh.
I intertwine our hands. “Are you sure your parents are okay with this?”
“Yup. My mom loves you, so I didn’t even have to finish asking before she said yes. She even watched your game on TV. Divya Preston is a big fan.”
“That’s sweet. I should probably check my phone, but I glanced at it earlier, and it gave me a headache.”
“Just relax today. You can go back to being a disciplined captain tomorrow.”
“And tonight?” The heavy look I send her makes her blush and turn to the road.
When we arrive at the Boston Harbor, everyone gawks at the vessel. Summer shoots out instructions that go over poorly with our drunken group. But somehow, we manage to get everyone into cabins.
“Lastly, this is our room.” Summer kicks off her shoes and lies flat on the bed.
I notice a box beside her. “And what’s this?”
“For you.” She smiles.
Opening it, I pull out the black lingerie. The sheer fabric of the tiny one-piece is butter smooth. “If this is my reward, I don’t think I’ll ever lose.”
“I thought you’d want to check it off my bucket list.”
I drag her mouth to mine and kiss her hungrily.
“Wait.” She pulls away. “There’s one more thing.” She pulls an envelope from the box. I’m still opening it when she blurts, “It’s tickets to Toronto.”
I’m stunned. “You’re coming with me?”
“For two weeks. Before I have to come back for my program start date. I thought I could show you around, and we can start this long-distance thing off right. It’s not too much, is it?”
“It’s perfect. Thank you, baby.” She blushes as I lower her onto the bed. “Now, put this on so I can fulfill your bucket list.” As I unbuckle my belt, I feel a metal object in my pocket. I almost forgot I had it.
I pull out the fuzzy pink handcuffs. “Can’t forget these.”
She giggles between my kisses, tugging off my sweater. “I brought something for you too.”
“Hmm?”
“Maple syrup,” she whispers.
I groan, hastily trying to remove her top. A hard knock startles us both. “Is your dad here?” I ask in horror.
“What—No, why would he be here?”
Right. That would be crazy. The knocking intensifies. I lift off the bed to answer the door with Summer behind me.
Dylan peeks through his fingers and exhales when he sees us. “Good, you’re still dressed. Kian just fell overboard.”
“What?” We both exclaim. A nonchalant Dylan leads the way to the commotion in the main room.
“Well, that definitely sobered him up,” says Cassie. She’s sitting next to Kian on the couch.
“That totally killed my buzz,” Kian grumbles. “Can someone get me another drink?”
My worry drains when I hear his voice. The last thing I need is one of these idiots dying on me. “Never thought I’d feel peace from the sound of your voice, buddy."
Kian flips me off as a shiver racks through him. Eli tosses him a robe, and I find the switch for the fireplace.
“I’m pretty sure I saw the afterlife down there,” Kian says to Cassie. Amara and Sampson roll their eyes from their place on the couch.
“You were in there for two minutes before Eli pulled you out,” says Dylan.
“The afterlife doesn’t have a specific timeline.”
Dylan groans. “Say the afterlife one more time, and I’m drowning you myself.”
Kian gasps.
“Okay, that’s enough. No one is drowning anyone. Kian and Eli are going to change, and then we’re all having a nice dinner.” A shivering Kian throws Summer a salute, and everyone finally goes to their rooms.
Three fights and two flying utensils later, we had dinner and settled into board games. Amara was close to biting Sampson’s head off, so we put them on the same team. That didn’t work as expected because now they’re bickering about who won the game. Dylan and Kian sang Party in The USA with Summer while they drained an unlabeled bottle of alcohol that worried me.
But it makes Summer extra nice, especially when Cassie calls us outside to watch the fireworks, and she wraps us in a blanket before settling in my lap.
“They’re a handful,” she whispers sleepily, resting her head on my chest. She even brought the stuffed cow I won her at the carnival, tucking it between us.
“You’re telling me. I’ve been fathering those children for years.”
“You make a great DILF,” she says with a kiss on my chin.
I laugh. “So, I suppose you can say it now.”
“Say what?”
“Aiden Crawford, you are the one to tear down my ice fortress and show me the ways of a hockey player.”
“Not happening,” she mutters. “But you are pretty damn perfect, you know that?”
I brush my lips over hers. “Only when I’m with you.”
“You’re stuck with me, Crawford.”
“Good because I love you, Preston. Like, a lot.”
“I love you, too. Like, a lot.” Summer burrows deeper into my embrace. Her warm, peachy scent swirls around us, a soothing concoction that has me pulling her closer. When I hold her like this, I realize my entire world fits in my arms.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
EPILOGUE
Nine Years Later
Toronto, Ontario
I’M MAKING MICKEY Mouse shaped pancakes when a little voice calls for me.
“Mommy?” Aurora, our three-year-old, climbs her chair, her bright pink tutu flowing like a cloud. Her blonde hair is in a messy braid that Aiden did for her last night. She refused to let me redo it for her this morning.
“Yes?” I ask, plating her breakfast.
Today is the opening day for my new sports clinic. It took slaving over my Ph.D. and then burning myself out while working for Team Canada for me to settle down in my hometown. I’m still on retainer with the Olympics committee, but it’s a contract basis. Traveling all the time and barely seeing my family was depressing. With Aurora in our lives, it didn’t feel right to be gone all the time.
I got pregnant with Aurora with a year left on my Ph.D., and as tough as it was, it helped that she was born in the offseason.
Aurora bites a strawberry. “Are you and Daddy fighting?”
I freeze. They never tell you how perceptive kids are. I slide her plate across the island. “What makes you think we’re fighting?”
“You didn’t hug yesterday.”
I’m living with a CIA-level spy. How she deduced that just from mere seconds of interaction last night is beyond me. She’s right though. Daddy and I are fighting.
The other day, Aiden watched all the episodes of our favorite show while I was at my clinic. It was his recovery day, so he spent it with his legs in his compression technology sitting in front of the television, betraying me. It didn’t help that my hormones were out of whack, so when I cried over it, he felt terrible. Not terrible enough for me to let him sleep in our room, though.
“We’re not fighting, sweetheart,” I lie. Daddy’s little girl doesn’t need to know her hero is also a dumbass.
The devil himself walks into the kitchen. He slept in the guest room last night and slipped out early this morning for his workout. Now he strolls in, hair damp from a shower, gray sweats, and a tight shirt hugging every muscle. The years have been nothing but kind to my husband, his face and body aging like fine wine. He looks so hot I have to stop myself from staring as he goes over to Rory and kisses her. She giggles and I bite down my smile.
Aiden comes to me as if he’s forgotten that I’ll stab him with a butter knife if he gets too close. Aurora watches us, waiting for the interaction to prove her analysis. She knows Aiden’s routine. He always kisses her first, then comes to me.
“What were you asking Mommy, Rory?”
“If you’re fighting,” she mumbles through a mouthful.
“And what did she say?” His gaze holds mine hostage.
“You’re not.”
He hums in acknowledgment, eliminating the space separating us. “Is that right?”
The big brown eyes watching me across the island force me to give Aiden a tight nod.
His smirk is infuriating. “Then how come I haven’t gotten a kiss?”
“Crawford,” I warn, using my favorite name for him in college.
His lips tip into a smirk. “Crawford,” he shoots back. Suddenly, I remembered why I stopped using it. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, trying not to alert the hawk watching us.
The icy exterior that he melted away years ago is too flimsy to hold up anymore. Just one of those earnest looks, and I’m ready to forgive him. Especially when he looks so damn sexy while he’s saying sorry. What am I mad about, again?
He lifts my chin and when my eyes meet his again he smiles, kissing me so thoroughly that I almost don’t hear the gremlin squealing across the island. I pull away to see her covering her eyes.
“She’s getting too smart,” I say to him. “And I don’t like that she’s always on your side.”
“Someone’s gotta be, or you’d have me on my knees day and night,” he says. “Not that I’d complain.”
I’m hoping my face isn’t red when Rory pipes up. “Daddy, are we seeing Nanna and Nanni today?”
She’s talking about my parents. My family and Aiden’s fawn over her like I’ve birthed the Stanley Cup. Which is saying a lot, because Aiden has won an actual Stanley Cup, and so has my dad.
“We are. Finish up, and we’ll take the big truck today,” he says.
She beams, gobbling the rest of her food. Much to Aiden’s and my dad’s pleasure, Aurora loves hockey. So they play at my dad’s rink every week. They both say she’s a natural born star, but they might be a little biased.
Aiden steals a stack of pancakes and sits beside Aurora, who licks her plate clean. “I’m done! Let’s go play hockey.”
“Uh-uh, you still have to clean the playroom, remember? That was our deal,” I remind her.
She deflates, looking at Aiden who is hyper-focused on his plate. One glance at her, and he is going to be the one cleaning the room. “Daddy,” she says in that sweet, sweet voice.
Aiden closes his eyes for a brief moment. “Aurora, you have to do what you promised.”
She pouts, doe-eyed, and blinking up at him. Damn, she’s good. Better than me.
He sighs in defeat. “I’ll come to help you if you get started.”
She lights up, running out of the kitchen and to her playroom. I shake my head in pity, laughing at the poor guy.
“She has your eyes, you know,” Aiden says. He gets up to put his plate in the sink.
“Oh, so it’s my fault she has you wrapped around her finger?”
“You do too,” he says matter-of-factly, loading the dishwasher. “How are you feeling? Still no appetite?”
I shrug, trying to cling to my residual annoyance. Just when I think he’ll let me get away with it, he wraps his arms around my waist, pressing my back against his chest. “I’m sorry. I promise it’ll never happen again. We can re-watch it or find a new show.”
It almost makes me laugh that he’s treating this so seriously. If I was thinking more clearly, I wouldn’t have had the reaction I did. But knowing he cares about the little things melts my heart. “I slept horribly last night.”
“Me too. My workout was rough. Even Eli said I was off.”
I knew that. Only because Eli texted the group chat a picture of Aiden looking disheveled this morning. Kian and Dylan found it especially funny, and happened to guess that he probably pissed me off because that’s the only time he’s grumpy.
Aiden’s palms flatten against my stomach, and I place my hands over his, skimming his diamond-studded band. He had both our rings engraved on our first anniversary with I love you, like a lot.
“I don’t like sleeping away from you.” He rubs my belly, though it's still too early to have a bump. “When are we telling the rugrat about this one?”
“Maybe when I’m further along. She really loves being an only child right now.”
“She’ll be a great big sister,” he says, turning me in his arms. “I love when you’re pregnant.”
I raise a brow. “That’s just because my hormones give me the sex drive of a horny teenager.”
“Well, yeah, but also because we made something with our love.” His cheesiness makes my insides mushy. “Would’ve never thought the stubborn psychology student would willingly carry my children.”
“Me neither,” I snort. He flares until my smile breaks free. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His hands move lower, and it’s like a switch when his lips brush against my neck.
His hips press against mine. “Want me to take you right here? Nice and slow, Sum.”
I really did miss him last night. “Y—”
“I’m done. Let’s go!” We break apart when Aurora runs straight to us, and Aiden lifts her in his arms.
“Okay, I’m going to check the room though. If it’s not clean, we can’t go,” warns Aiden.
She gasps, sliding out of Aiden’s hold to run off again.
I’m shaking with laughter when he hugs me, sighing contentedly. “You think this one’s going to be as wild as she is?”
He rubs my belly. “Nah, I think this one will be more like me.”
I scoff. “You can’t seriously think Rory has my personality.”
“I don’t know. She’s stubborn as hell.” He leans in and my eyes narrow. “She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” I soften. “And she’s got me wrapped around her finger.” I lay my head on his chest and, like this, I can hear the calming beat of his heart, as well as Rory’s toys clattering down the hall.
“I’ll take care of you tonight,” he whispers, and a hot rush of electricity zips through me. Aiden is always attentive, but when I’m pregnant he’s on a whole other level. Foot rubs every night, moisturizing my belly, lots of hot baths.
When I groan, he pulls away. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re a hockey player.”
“Babe, I thought we were over this.”
My eyes widen. “That means if this one is a boy, he’s going to be huge. How am I going to birth a hockey player's child?”
“You already have.”
“She was tiny! God, why did I let you trick me into falling in love with you?” I whine.
He laughs and kisses me again. “You’ll do great, and I’ll be there just like always.”
“You better be.”
There’s no doubt that he will. Because when I look into his eyes, all the years of unwavering love come fluttering back, and I know for certain that he’s the best decision I ever made.
THANK YOU FOR READING
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Publishing is a daunting process and I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned. Though, none of it would be possible without the connections I’ve made along the way.
Nina, for being my first reader, and self-appointed PA. Thank you for always answering my late night “this or that” texts and every single anxiety-driven FaceTime call. I’m so beyond grateful for your friendship. This book would be nothing without you.
