Page 119 of In Your Wake

She frowns. “What does that mean?”

“It means I could cause some very serious damage. Permanent damage.”

“I’m so sorry, Mitch.”

She steps closer, tucking herself between my knees, then frames my face with her hands, drawing my eyes up to hers. Her soft touch is so warm and comforting; I can’t help but lean into it and shut my eyes.

“Well, then, it seems pretty clear what you have to do,” she says.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“You don’t go back.”

25

Five O'clock Shadow

Max

The honeymoon suite—which is a silly name since it hasn’t seen honeymooners for years—is dimly lit and somewhat chilly. The fireplace is empty and unused, and the curtains are closed.

And yet, I’m flushed with heat.

Standing wedged between Mitch’s strong thighs, cradling his face as if letting him go might mean waking up from a wonderful dream, I smile when he looks at me as if I’ve just said the earth is flat.

“Don’t go back?” he asks. “To New York?”

I nod. “Or hockey. I’m sure living without it would be hard for someone like you, but isn’t your well-being more important?”

“I can’t give it up.”

“But you said it’s not your everything.”

A heavy frown darkens his face as if covered by a shroud of sorrow. “It’s not, but without it, I feel like I’d be nothing.”

I tilt his head up. “You’re not nothing. You have the brewery. You have the guys.” I run my fingers through his hair, the softness of his strands reminding me of better days soaking up the sun, lying side by side in the grassy dunes, without a care in the world. A twinge of longing flares in my chest. I so desperately wish we could return to that time. “You have a lot right here.”

“And I sacrificed it all for hockey,” he admits. “Without it, who would I be?”

Like burning brimstone, his eyes search mine, and I sink closer, drawn in by their intensity.

I take his arms and wrap them around my waist. He drops his forehead onto my stomach.

“You’d be the guy who loves harder than most, who wants to help everyone, but never helps himself.”

“I’m not that guy anymore.”

“Yes, you are. So, what if you don’t play? You’re still strength personified.”

“Only when I’m around you.”

My throat runs dry; I wish I’d brought up some champagne.

He takes my hand, kisses the inside of my wrist, while his other hand drops to my ass. “It’s you, Max. You’ve always made me feel like I matter. Like I’m someone. I mean, maybe not your favorite someone, but I’ve always felt that with you.”

“Mitch, I—”

He squeezes his eyes together. “No, wait. I need to say this. We can’t change what happened back then. I get that. And we can’t make up for the time we lost. Nothing will fix the hurt we caused each other.” He looks up, takes my hand that’s gripping his shoulder and brings it to rest over his heart. “But we both know what’s what here.”