“You’ve been here,” I whisper again, still hoarse. “You stayed.”
He nods quickly, a grin spreading despite the worry in his eyes. “Of course I did. You think I’d leave you alone? You got knocked out cold in front of everyone. Eric cried and threw up in the lobby, in front of the team, because he thought he killed you!”
I groan softly at the mental image, a weak laugh escaping despite the pounding in my skull. “Good. He’s such a dumbass,” I mutter, shaking my head, but the weight of Leander’s devotion makes me feel warmer than any medication ever could.
He doesn’t stop, listing off everything the doctors said—stitches, concussion, swelling, care instructions—as if reading a report to ensure I absorbed it. And through it all, I reach up and place both hands on his face, holding him steady, grounding myself.
“Leander,” I murmur, my voice low but firm. “I know. Silas told me. I don’t need the whole report.”
His grin softens into that quiet, heartfelt smile that always makes my chest ache. “I just… I’m sorry. I was just so worried. I wanted you to know how much you mean to everyone, especially me.”
I can feel the surge of love and pride for him and for us, swelling so hard in my chest that it’s almost painful. I take adeep, shaky breath, letting my forehead rest against his shoulder for a moment. “I love you,” I whisper.
His hand moves to my chest, feeling my heartbeat racing beneath his fingers. “I love you too,” he says softly, and I can feel the truth in it vibrating through the room.
I pull back slightly, looking him in the eyes, forcing myself to push past the pain and grogginess.
“But I mean it. I love you, Lee. And I want us together. Move in with me.”
His eyes widen, a mixture of shock, happiness, and tears threatening to spill. I press on, letting my words tumble out before doubt can creep in. “Let’s get a bigger house. Porch swing. Maybe a dog. Never leave my side. Love me for all my days. Please.”
He’s quiet, either from shock or overwhelming emotion, but then he sighs.
Tears slip down his cheeks as he nods, voice breaking but fierce. “Yes. Yes, Phoenix. Absolutely yes.”
The flood of relief and joy hits me full force, and for the first time since the fight on the bus, since the suspension, since Silas’s interference, I feel steady. I feel like I can breathe again. My hand lingers on his cheek, brushing away the tears, memorizing every line of his face. He’s mine, fully.
And I am his.
The room feels warmer now, brighter. The pain in my head and the lingering ache in my body fade slightly against the overwhelming certainty of us.
I squeeze him gently, almost protective, almost worshipful, and say again, quieter now, just for him, “I love you.”
He smiles through his tears, leaning into my hands, and I know—no matter what chaos is waiting outside this room—this is our moment, our truth, our life together just beginning.
The next few days blur into a routine I never expected. Leander hovers around me constantly, fussing over every little thing—the way I sit up in bed, how I drink my water, even the way I stretch my fingers after my concussion. He carries my pills like a waiter in a restaurant, making me take them with that teasing look in his eyes, as if to say,don’t try to argue, baby, I’ve got you.
It’s overwhelming, but in a way that’s perfect. I’ve spent so much of my life in control, giving orders, managing the chaos around me, and here’s this golden, steady force in my life who’s entirely devoted to my well-being. I catch myself staring at him when he isn’t looking, thinking how lucky I am. The softness in his touch, the warmth in his gaze—it’s disarming.
Silas comes by one morning, just as Leander’s packing up his gear to go to practice. The tension in the house shifts when Silas is here. He’s calmer, careful around me, and he listens in a way most people don’t. He’s not judgmental—he doesn’t overstep. He’s just… present. I catch him watching me as I try to open a juice carton one-handed, and there’s this faint smile on his lips as he opens it for me. Like I’m his little brother now, too.
Leander shoots me a quick grin before leaving, muttering, “Behave,” and I watch him go, thinking how weirdly perfect this little domestic act has become.
Jax is taking over as captain for a few days, running practice, yelling at the boys in my place. The team seems restless without me, but I know they’re in good hands. Jax even checks in on me periodically, making jokes about me lying in bed like a dying king, and I can’t help but laugh.
That night, Silas stays. We talk quietly in the kitchen, me fumbling with the mug of coffee he brought me. It’s strange—so strange—how easily conversation flows. He asks about my life before Leander, about my foster family, about the things I’ve learned through hockey. He really listens. And I find myselfsharing things I don’t often share—small memories, funny stories about my foster mom, how she’d fuss over me.
A few nights later, the four of them—Leander, Silas, Jax, and Jeremy—come over for a movie night. Leander drags blankets and pillows into the living room while Jax and Jeremy argue over which movies are “classics” versus “essential trash.” Silas just sits on the couch, popcorn in hand, and watches us all.
There’s laughter, teasing, and a sense of normalcy I didn’t know I was craving. I sit back, sipping my drink, and for the first time in years, I think:this is family. This is what it’s like to actually have a family.
Later, after everyone leaves, Leander tucks me into bed, laughing at how much I hate to be babied. The bruises have faded, but my body still aches in places, and Leander is careful, smoothing my hair back, brushing my forehead with his fingertips. “You’re still fragile, Phoenix,” he says, voice soft, but there’s that playful lilt underneath. “I don’t care how tough you think you are.”
I grin up at him, teasing back. “I’ve been resting. Now I need you.”
His eyes widen, and he rolls over to sit up. “Careful. You’ve already worn me out with all this fussing I’ve needed to do. I need rest, too.”
I laugh, sitting up fully and pulling him toward me. “You’ve rested long enough. You’re mine tonight.”
