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“Sweetheart.” He let out a long breath. “Two people could not be more fucked up at this very moment. But the best part is… We’re fucked up together.”
This got the waterworks going again.
Scout lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the chair by the window seat. He sank onto the cushion and grabbed the blanket within arm-shot. Draped it over her.
She huddled close to him. Told him in a quivering voice, “What I said at Waylon’s is the God’s honest truth, Scout. You will always be a hockey legend. And coaching will only keep that legacy alive. You’ll find the right place for yourself. Just take your time and—”
“I already did.”
Her head popped up. “What? You haven’t mentioned finding anything in particular that got you jazzed.”
He simply shook his head, as though still trying to mentally reconcile it all. His past, his present and his future.
And damn it, she actually had to kiss away a tear from his cheek over the whole Come to Jesus Moment. Which really ripped her soul apart. Because this was what Scout had dreaded the most—showing his weakness.
“Hey,” she said. “You have to be happy about it before you make a decision.”
He gave her an earnest look. “I’m not ever going to be happy that I had to give up my career prematurely. But something came up last night. When I was at Waylon’s. Before Hamilton came in to tell me about Gaby.”
“What happened?”
“I was with Coach E., remember?”
“Right…” She drew the word out slowly, not catching onto his meaning.
A shadow of a grin touched his lips. “So, apparently
, he’s retiring. After this season.”
Her heart nearly burst wide open at the silent implication. “Scout!”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m thinking of coaching. Here in Plymouth Rock.”
“That would be so perfect for you,” she said on a heavy breath. “I mean, the NHL will be short one seriously amazing coach, but then again… You could never just be a coach, could you? You need to be a mentor. You need to be like Coach E. and like Sully. That guy who gets out there and tries to redirect the pee-wees from making a slap shot into the wrong net. The guy who gives guidance and understands what it’s like to love the smell of the ice and the roar of the crowd. A true god of the arena.”
“Well…” He chuckled. A bit more naturally this time. “I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart. But, yeah. I might be able to make a difference to some of those kids. And no offense to Coach E., but his team hasn’t won a championship since I played. Maybe I can help turn that around.”
“Wow.” Her arms circled his neck again and she hugged him fiercely. “That’s all pretty incredible, Scout Winchester.”
He seemed to get as caught up in the embrace as she did. For a few moments. Then he eased her slightly away and asked, “Do you forgive me?”
Her eyes watered again, while he was whisking away drops on her cheek with his thumb. She said, “Yes. Of course.”
“And you know that you are the only woman for me? Always have been. Always will be. No matter where you are?”
“Oh, um… About that.” She snuggled a little closer to him. Brushed her fingertips over his bare chest. “I’m sort of out of work at the moment. The magazine just folded.”
“Wow.” His fingers tangled in her hair and he gently coaxed her to look up at him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me, too. I’ve been with them for a decade. It’s like the end of an era. A little painful.”
“I can relate.” He gave a half-snort. Then he got serious. “Do you need money?”
“Oh, God, no. I have my mother’s estate that still boggles the mind. Tilda’s isn’t any smaller. And… Well. I have the house.” She shook her head. Tried to accept that the huge Colonial on the outskirts of town—at the base of this very mountain—was all hers. “I’ve been nonstop intimidated by it. By owning it, specifically. What does one person do with a ginormous house like that?”
“I don’t know. I mean, let’s face it. I was staying at the B&B instead of at my mother’s. I’m just used to hotel rooms and I never really felt like I belonged anywhere in particular.”
“Me, either.”
