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Dad pulls me into a hug. “You’ve grown into quite an incredible person, Lavender. It’s hard to let you go.”
“I know, and I love you for it, but I promise I can hold my own these days.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I know you can, and I know Kody will be a good partner for you. Otherwise he’ll have me to answer to.”
I laugh, because what can I really say to that. He’s my dad, and I’m always going to be his little girl.
Mom slips her arm around my waist. We’re close to the same height. We watch as Dad and River have a whispered conversation.
“You knew River was gay?” I ask.
She lifts a shoulder in a slight shrug. “I suspected. I mean, whenever we went to the beach, it was never the girls he was staring at.”
She has a point.
Dad puts a hand on River’s shoulder, and his expression shifts to one I’m familiar with. It’s the one I called his marshmallow face when I was little, when he would go all soft and warm and compassionate. Whatever he says to River makes him duck his head. Dad pulls him in for a hug—and not one of those manly, back-pat jobs, but a real hug. I can practically feel the emotion in it.
They needed this.
We all did.
Chapter Thirty-Five
A Piece of Peace
Lavender
Present day
AS SOON ASfinals are over, and Kodiak and Maverick graduate, Kodiak and I pack our things and move into a condo sublet our parents found in New York City. Although the internship offered accommodations, my dad and Kodiak’s mom researched the most statistically safe location within walking distance of my internship and a short subway ride from Kodiak’s training camp. Hence the sublet.
New York is busy and noisy and overwhelming. The bustle makes my heart race, but the internship is totally worth it. It takes all of twenty-four hours in the theater for me to come to the conclusion that this is my dream job.
My mentor, Priscilla, doesn’t coddle me. And even better, everyone I work with asks for my opinion. They push my creative boundaries and test my skill set. I love everything about it. For the first time in my life, I understand what it means to feel truly comfortable in my own skin.
Kodiak and I are learning how to manage life together. It isn’t seamless, or perfect, but it’s real, and it’s honest, and it’s us. He’s an excessive neat freak, and I’m less rigid about immediately putting everything away as soon as I’m done with it.
Regardless of our differences, we get each other on a level that feels soul deep. Sure, we’re young, and we have our entire lives ahead of us, and so many things could change. But in those first few weeks, we carve out a hectic existence for ourselves, and I finally feel at peace with our past and how we managed to get here, to this place where we’re wholly in love.
I stayed late at the theater tonight so I could finish a particularly tricky part of the costume I’m working on. Priscilla has been so supportive, always there to answer questions and teach me tricks to make things easier. It’s almost eight o’clock by the time I get home to our ridiculously nice, two-bedroom sublet on the twentieth floor.
I’m hopeful that Kodiak is in the mood for a little fun and stress relief tonight. There are times when I worry I’m becoming a sex addict, but then I remind myself Kodiak is a twenty-two-year-old athlete—his birthday has come and gone—and there’s nothing wrong with having a high sex drive. Besides, sex counts as exercise. Also, orgasms are a great, natural relaxant.
Kodiak actually looked it up when I made a joke about our slightly over-prolific sex life, paranoid that maybe we were having it too often. Then he read two books on sex addiction. And another one on bondage and voyeurism.
All they seemed to do was make him hornier and confirm that we were totally normal.
I let myself into the condo, and my excitement dampens when I hear him talking. Maybe one of the guys he plays hockey with is over. He’s made a few friends, as have I, but he never mentioned company tonight. I toe off my shoes and head down the hall, pausing when I catch him pacing the length of the living room with his phone in his hand.
He’s wearing only a pair of athletic shorts, his heavily muscled back flexing as he runs a hand roughly through his hair. “I’m not going to Vancouver.”
He’s on speakerphone, but his dad’s voice is low and muffled, so I don’t catch his response.
“There has to be another option. That can’t be the only team who wants me. Can’t you get them to trade me? Maybe you should call my agent and ask about Chicago?”
“That’s not how it works, Kodiak.” Rook’s voice is gentle, rational.
“You pulled strings for training camp this summer, though. You have to be able to do something! It’s too far away. Lavender has two years of college left, and then we can go wherever.”
