He gets busy, his head down and face determined. Declan takes over as coach, encouraging and correcting him gently as he works. Boston, in his backward hat and windbreaker, decides it’s a good time to take a break and skates toward the bench.
When he reaches us, he leans down on his elbow and glances at his nephew.
“Taking care of the girls, Mose?”
Moseley glances at him, eyes wide, and starts to giggle.
Boston’s green eyes slide to mine. “Bored yet?”
“Watching you on the ice playing daddy? No chance.”
“Ew.” Rem grimaces, but Boston breaks into a grin.
I lean forward, reaching for the boards. Using it to haul myself toward him, Boston rests both of his arms along the edge, his hands immediately sliding to my elbows to keep me upright.
His eyes flicker to my mouth, and I angle my head, halting inches from his face.
“I like the sweater.”
I knew he would. Baby pink and fluffy, patterned with little hearts. I gesture to him. “I like the face.”
Remi lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head.
Boston’s grin grows into a full-on, beaming smile. “I should get back out there before Lowesy corrupts my legacy.”
I snort, reaching forward to wrap my hand around the nape of his neck. His grip tightens on my arms as I press my mouth to his, enjoying the soft feeling of my favourite lips. I quite like the way they make my stomach swoop. Still not used to that.
I pull back, my eyes flickering up to his. He keeps me close, pecking my mouth for a final time before actually allowing some space between us.
“Get a goal for me, Boston Black.”
He cocks a brow, skating backward. “Against a nine-year-old?”
I shrug. “He’s not in net.”
Rem smirks. “Put Kane in there and give him hell.”
Boston glances at her, then at me, and he shakes his head. “I don’t like this alliance that’s brewing between the two of you.”
“Tough luck.” Rem flashes him a wink.
His eyes slide back to mine, his smile gentle. He loves the alliance. He appreciates it. I see it every time I tell him that Rem and I were texting to talk about the kids, or sharing recipes back and forth. It’s in the light of his eyes when he watches me chase his nephews around the farmhouse. It’s in the heat of his stare when I slide out of bed before him while his family is here, so that I can take care of everything on the farm for him, allowing him to enjoy time with his brothers when he wakes up.
When we get home, we have a nice dinner that Kane and Remi cook, and I settle into the sounds of a loud, bustling family. A house full of people. Lemmy arrives with dessert. Store-bought, obviously. She doesn’t bake. Carter and Arden come by with arms full of candy for the kids, much to Kane’s dismay, and they join us for a home-cooked meal.
Maybe one day, in this bright and lovely future of ours, there are two more members of the Black family at this table. Healthy. Healing. Ready to come home. I can’t know for certain, but I can hope for it. For them. For him.
I lean against Boston’s shoulder as he and Kane discuss farm life, and his hand absentmindedly slides to my thigh. My eyes catch my brother’s from across the table, his arm draped over the back of Arden’s chair. He smiles gently, and I smile back. Look at us. Happy. Fulfilled in all the ways that matter.
I sold my house in California two months ago. I still live with him and Arden, but I’m certain my roots are being planted here now. That last tie to California was my final goodbye to my old life.
My heart aches in that good way, thinking about those two kids in that big, empty house, making handshakes and promising to be there for each other. Forever.
We did it, didn’t we? The both of us. Figured this whole life thing out together. Got to the finish line, side-by-side, proud of each other. Together.
He dips his chin, his throat bobbing, the same thoughts likely flooding his mind.
Yeah, we did it.
