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 evenmorecarbs.” 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.”
