Page 162 of Twisted Needs

“Leave it,” Parker tells me, sitting up a little. “Come here.”

A low, breathless sound slips out of me. I roll over and straddle his lap, throwing my arms around his neck. Hooking an arm around me, Parker pulls me flush against his body. His restrained look quickly grows into possibly the brightest face he’s ever made.

“I love you,” is the first thing he says, leaving his freaky alter-ego on the other side of the world. “Promise me you won’t leave me behind when you become a famous best-selling author.”

“Never,” I whisper, resting my head in the crook of his neck. My hand rests against his chest. His heart. “There’s no version of life without you in it.”

Parker tightens his hold, pulling me even closer as he strokes his thumb beneath my eye. He tilts his head down and presses his lips against my forehead.

“I love you, Pet’ka. I don’t want to hide us anymore.”

“We’ll tell him,” he murmurs. “I’ll talk to him.”

I want to tell him that this is a situation we both need to approach together, but I’m just so overwhelmed by all the love I’m feeling for him that the words never leave me.

“Cup first,” I say instead. “And then you’re mine forever.”

“A khochu provesti s toboyu vsyu zhizn’,” Parker whispers.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not going anywhere.”

CHAPTER 46

PASS HIM THE PUCK

PARKER

The game turns violent very early on. Pittsy is on their worst behavior for game seven, especially because they think they actually have a shot at winning on our home turf.

Not a single one go us has gone unscathed since hitting the ice. Livingston is down a tooth, while Rogers has sat his happy ass in the sin bin for a majority of the night. And somehow, everybody is fucking bleeding for some reason. There’s these nasty blood streaks on the ice from the most recent fight.

Third period comes quickly, and everything gets more sluggish as exhaustion starts to creep in. A sudden shock of adrenaline, though, spikes through me the moment Rogers jumps a pass at center and sends it up the boards. It slips through clean, immediately on my stick with open ice in front of me.

My eyes immediately flicker to Vandy, who has held a steely concentration the entire night. It’s scarily out of character for him not to make a joke about an opponent’s mother, but he’s probably been on his best behavior, like, ever.

The entire arena gasps when I pass him the puck. He barely corrals it clean, but it’s enough. The shot cuts through traffic and the net snaps back before anyone fully reacts.

For a second nobody moves. Vandy just stares at the net like his body hasn't caught up yet. The moment recognition sinks into him, he snaps his head in my direction with a scared-deer look on his face.

I point at him before anyone else can reach him. “That’s you!” I shout, grabbing his helmet. “That’s you, kid! You’re a fucking legend!”

When the horn comes, it takes a second for it to register. There’s a brief moment where everything is silent and no one dares to move.

And then everything comes crashing back at once.

The entire team crowds the ice. Players’ children are being thrown over the boards. Strobe lights are flashing team colors like crazy…

I find Anders in an instant, standing with my parents with his arms around my mom, hugging in excitement.

I made an assist to the winning goal, and yet—Anders is the only thing I can focus on.

I go over the boards without thinking and pull him into me. His feet leave the ice for a second and he laughs like he didn’t expect to be lifted like that. “Everyone will see⁠—”

I bury my face into the slope of his neck and let out the deepest sigh of relief. “I fucking love you.”

Fuck the cameras. Fuck the reporters. I don’t care how this looks one bit. I have everything I need right here in my arms. Everything else is an afterthought.