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“Are you alone?”
“Jealous, Holmes?”
“Curious, Daniels.”
“Yeah. It’s just me and my favorite blanket. Oh, and a spiked mug of hot chocolate.”
“Sounds like the perfect night,” he says.
“It’s not half bad,” I say. There’s a knock on my apartment door, and I sit up. “Hang on. Someone’s here. That’s weird; Maggie told me she and Aiden are spending the night celebrating with a nice dinner out.”
“Maybe they’re stopping by to say hi.”
“And interrupt time they could be home alone doing God knows what? Doubtful. You know those two can’t keep their hands to themselves.”
“Ah. Young love,” he says.
I walk across the living room and turn the lock. I open the door and freeze when I find Shawn standing on my welcome mat, right over the words that saygo away. “What are you doing here?”
He ends the call and slides his phone into the pocket of his jeans. The tips of his ears are red, and his nose is, too. His cheeks are flushed, and it looks like he’s spent the last twenty minutes outside in the freezing cold.
“Hi, Lacey girl,” he says.
“Hi,” I whisper. My voice cracks around the edges, and I suck in a sharp breath. I reach out to touch him—his cheeks, his chest, the scruff of the beard he decided to grow—to check if he’s real. “You’re supposed to be on a plane to… to somewhere. But you’re here?”
He lifts an eyebrow and leans against the door frame. “Keeping track of me?”
“No. Yes. Maybe.” I squeeze my eyes shut then open them, and he’s stillright there.Six inches away from me. “Aren’t you—are you allowed to not fly with the team? Won’t you get in trouble?”
“That’s the best thing about being the head coach.” Shawn takes a step forward and crowds my space. Heat radiates from his body, and I want to wrap myself in one of his hugs. “I get to make the rules. Can I come in?”
“Yeah.” I nod and gesture for him to join me inside. “Of course.”
He walks into my apartment, and I hold the fleece blanket tight around my shoulders. It’s my shield in case I need it.
“You still have your tree up?” he asks. “Decorated, too.”
“Yeah. I didn’t want to take it down yet. I’m not ready to let the holiday season go,” I say.
Shawn glances at me over his shoulder. “I’m not either,” he says. He pulls off his beanie and runs his hand through his hair. Snowflakes fall from the dark brown waves and litter my floor like confetti. “Come here.”
I walk to him on instinct. If he told me to jump, I’d ask how high. I’ve become reliant on him, the other half to my whole.
My feet glide across the floor and my shoulders shake. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here,” I say.
“There was going to be a whole thing with magnets and a planned speech, but I couldn’t wait. I had to be here with you. It’s almost New Year’s.”
He looks at the television and the countdown plastered on the screen. There are only four minutes until midnight, and the camera pans to the ball high up in Times Square. It glitters and sparkles, the sequins catching in the spotlights. Another second passes, then another and another.
Three minutes and thirty seconds to go.
I stop in front of him and tilt my head back so I can look him in the eye. The blanket falls into a heap at my feet, and I shiver at the change in temperature. “The end of our arrangement. You wanted to tell me in person,” I whisper, and my chest aches.
I’m not ready to say goodbye to him yet.
Shawn’s eyes roam down my body and his smile melts into a grin, a bright and beautiful thing that makes his eyes sparkle and his hand twitch by his side. I think he wants to reach out and pull me to him.
“You’re wearing my shirt again,” he says.
