Page 223 of On the Breakaway

“No one can replace you, Liam.” I hand him my girly drink the way I always do, and he smiles wide.

That’s all it takes with him before he’s forgiven the months of secrecy. If only everyone were as easy to understand.

Nathan reaches over and steals one of Liam’s mozzarella sticks. Sloane narrows her eyes at Grayson.

“You know, it’s actually unsettling.”

“What is?”

“You two.” She points between us. “You’ve become one of those couples who accidentally touch each other every five seconds."

Only then do I realize his hand is resting against my thigh beneath the table.

Neither of us had noticed.

“Oh,” I say.

“Huh.” Grayson grins beside me, his thumb absentmindedly tracing a circle against my knee.

My heart does something embarrassingly soft as I realize that Sloane is right. We are one of those couples, and I don’t even mind. Not anymore. Not after everything it took to get here.

Liam lifts his beer. “Well.” He lets out an exaggerated breath. “Thank fuck for a couple of days off.”

Nathan clinks his bottle against Liam’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

Across the table, Wyatt arches an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be saying that if a couple of days off meant your season was over.”

The booth quiets just enough for his words to settle.

Liam wrinkles his nose. “We’re winning that Cup.”

“Damn straight,” Grayson says as a round of cheers sounds out around us.

“You ready to get back out there?” I ask him when I catch the guilt he’s been fighting all week flash across his face.

“Yes.”

“Three days until the first game.”

“It feels like an eternity.”

I poke him. “You’re the worst hockey watcher I’ve ever seen.”

He gasps, “I thought you liked watching the game with me.”

“I liked the idea of it. But in practice? Unbearable.”

“Hopefully, you never have to watch a game with me again.”

“At least until you retire,” I add, watching his face brighten at the long-term implications of my words.

Five months ago, I would’ve looked around this table searching for the nearest exit, but it turns out the future I’d been so afraid of wasn’t something waiting to happen to me.

It was already here.

Hidden in the late nights at the Blue Line with friends who refused to let me disappear.

In the man beside me, who never stopped reaching for my hand beneath the table, patient enough to wait until I was finally ready to take it.