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“No,” I say emphatically. “When I decided to go back, I’d done so only after considering how I could keep you, how I could make us work. I just wasn’t sure how to approach you about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” And here my words fail me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt deep emotion, and after closing myself off for so long, it’s not easy to talk about my feelings.
Tillie’s hand comes to my cheek, her expressive eyes affirming I can trust her with anything, and my tongue loosens.
“Because I’ve spent months walled off from everyone, and this is hard. But mostly, because I didn’t know if you’d even want to continue to see me. I’ve been such a dick to you—I sued you and tried to take away your dreams, I’ve not offered muchof myself, other than pleasure in bed. I was having a hard time believing you would want anything to do with me if I went back to Pittsburgh.”
“You’ve offered plenty,” she says, her fingers playing with the collar of my T-shirt. “You trusted me enough to share the source of your pain. You gave me something you’ve never given anyone else, and that means a lot.”
“So my idea isn’t that crazy?” I prod.
She grabs hold of her lower lip with her teeth, which means she’s pondering. She doesn’t do it to be sexy—although she is—but it’s her tell that she’s thinking deeply.
“This is overwhelming. You’re asking me to be part of a life that’s foreign to me.”
“You’ll get used to Pittsburgh,” I assure her. “It’s like a big small town, and the people are great.”
She shakes her head, eyes heavy with apology. “I’m not talking about the city. I’m talking about your life. You’re famous, Coen. I don’t know much about hockey, but I’ve read enough to know you’re a big deal in not just Pittsburgh but in the league. Here in Coudersport, you’re just Coen… my grumpy but hot neighbor. Here, you’re mine. In Pittsburgh, you belong to everyone else.”
My heart sinks because it sounds like she’s not interested. I know she feels the same connection that I do, but fuck if she doesn’t make some good points. Our life together in Pittsburgh would be very, very different. She would have to share me with the team and with fans. She’d be committing to a man who wouldn’t be there for her all the time.
At least not physically, anyway.
“I won’t go back,” I say, surprised at how easily that popped out of my mouth, and then downright stunned that I don’t want to recant. I’d been excited by my commitment to return to my career, and in the blink of an eye, I’m ready to give it all up again.
For Tillie.
“What?” she exclaims, pushing out of my hold. She glares at me, hands on her hips. “Like hell you’ll give up your career just because I might have a little anxiety about how life with you would work.”
I snag her wrist and I reel her into me. My other hand goes to the back of her neck and I squeeze, forcing her eyes to me. “I’ve obviously given a lot of thought about my life and where it’s going, Tillie. And the one thing I know, without a doubt, is that I don’t want to do life without you. I want hockey back, but I want you more. I will follow you.”
Tears form again. “You’d give up hockey for me?”
“I love you.” Fuck if those words don’t sound more right than anything that’s ever come out of my mouth. “I love you, and I want to be with you, so if you want to stay here in Coudersport, so will I. If you want to give Pittsburgh a try, we’ll do it together. But always together.”
Tillie flings herself at me, buries her face in my chest, and mumbles, “Ah luf u tooh.”
Chuckling, I wrap her hair in my hand and tug her head back. “What was that?”
“I love you too.” She smiles up at me, tears still twinkling in her eyes.
“So, where do you want to live, Ms. Marshall?” I ask.
“With you,” she replies, and that’s the exact answer I need to hear.
CHAPTER 27
Tillie
We pull pasta house so beautiful, I can’t wrap my head around it. It’s aglow with light, done in red brick with black shutters and cream trim. It has gabled roofs and sits in an L-shape with a round turret tucked into the corner that rises three stories and is mostly paned glass. A massive chandelier illuminates a curved staircase that winds up the turret made of gleaming white marble.
Cars line the street on both sides, and it’s a block down before we find a place to park.
I wipe my hands on my dress. “My palms are sweating.”
“Mine too, babe.” He turns off the truck. “This is the first team social event I’ve been to since the crash.”
