“Mostly?” He laughs against my neck, and his beard tickles. “Won’t lie—seeing that asshole’s picture messed me up some.”
“Perfectly understandable,” I say, steering him inside and kicking the door shut behind us. “He’s never coming back here, though. Never. I’d fuck him up if he tried.”
Forest goes still in my arms. Did I say something wrong? “I mean… I know you can take care of yourself. I just… I’d like to get a few punches in.”
“Beck.” He sighs against my cheek. “I love hearing that you have my back.”
My ego grows approximately two and a half sizes. Instantly. “Good. And he’s going to pay for abusing your trust.”
“Yeah,” Forest says gruffly. “I might have to face him in court, though. I offered to testify.”
“Of course you did. It won’t be easy, but I think it’ll help you heal. And maybe one of those other guys can’t, you know? You’d be doing this for him, too.”
Forest makes a warm noise and pulls back to look me up and down. “God, I’m happy you’re here.”
There’s no way he could know how those words light me up inside. “Only place I want to be.”
“Come to bed,” he says, yawning. “Now that you’re here, I think maybe I could finally sleep.”
I strip off my jacket. “That’s either a fantastic compliment, or an insult to my sexual skills.”
“It’s late, rookie,” he says, pinching my hip. “Come to bed,” he repeats.
Five minutes later, we’re curled up under Forest’s comforter. He’s got an arm around me, and his fingertips are tracing the divot between my pecs. It’s outrageously nice. And even if my erection disagrees (hello, down there!), this is exactly what both of us need right now.
“Thank you for coming,” Forest says quietly. “It means a lot.”
I roll in his arms and kiss his fuzzy jaw. “You show up for me. I’ll show up for you. That’s how this works now.”
“Yeah, it is.” He kisses me for real. Just once. “Let’s get some rest. You must be tired, sweetheart.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I say, even though hearing that endearment only makes me want to fuck. But Forest’s eyelids are so heavy. “Yeah, I’m exhausted.”
He’s asleep within seconds.
I, on the other hand, lie awake for a while, eyes closed, just appreciating him. The slack, trusting weight of his body against mine and the steady thump of his heartbeat.
And I realize this is it. I’ve peaked. There’s a hot, fantastic man in my life who calls me sweetheart. So many people never have that, let alone the chance to play big-league hockey.
Maybe that should scare me—nowhere to go but down. It doesn’t, though. All I feel is gratitude.
And then I sleep, too.
Forty-Eight
A Heart Attack in Four Acts
Forest
May
Playoff hockey is basically a heart attack in four acts, and I’m willingly subjecting myself to it from row sixteen at the Denver arena, next to my thirteen-year-old son, who’s busy bargaining with God. I think he just said he’d quit TikTok for a week if the Cougars could just kill this damn penalty.
I glance sideways. “A week? That’s it?”
Charlie shoots me a glare. “I said a week minimum.”
I snort, but I’m feeling just as irrational as he is. The Cougars are one goal down as the clock ticks down on the second period. If we don’t win tonight, L.A. wins the conference, which will sting. They shouldn’t even be here—they snuck into the playoffs like a raccoon into a backyard wedding and have caused nothing but chaos ever since.
