Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Silas
Iwake up happy.
Not the manic happiness that comes from winning or the desperate happiness that comes from avoiding loss. This is something quieter, steadier. Contentment maybe, though that word feels too small for the warmth that's taken up permanent residence in my chest.
Scout's already up, because of course she is.
She's probably in the kitchen making one of those green smoothies she swears taste good but definitely don't. Her yoga clothes are laid out on the dresser, which means she's teaching the early class at her studio.
One year in and those words still make me stupidly proud.
I force myself out of bed and find her dancing to music only she can hear through her earbuds, adding spinach to the blender.
She's wearing one of my t-shirts and nothing else, honey blonde waves piled on top of her head in a messy bun that defies physics.
Her slender frame moves unselfconsciously to whatever she's listening to, fair skin with those olive undertones glowing in the morning light.
She looks beautiful and ridiculous at the same time, which is exactly how I love her.
"Morning," I say, loud enough to be heard over whatever she's listening to.
She jumps, then laughs, pulling out one earbud. "You're up early."
"You're up earlier."
"I have the sunrise class. What's your excuse?"
"Watching you dance badly in my kitchen."
"Our kitchen," she corrects. "And my dancing is perfectly adequate."
I move behind her and settle my hands on her hips. "Your dancing is terrible. Good thing you're pretty."
She leans back into me, her smile wicked. "Good thing you're easy."
"Only for you."
The moment stretches warm and comfortable. A year of mornings like this have changed me, made me comfortable in ways I didn't know were possible to feel. Scout fills our space with plants and laughter and the kind of easy intimacy I never thought I was capable of.
Plus, she keeps me on my toes with a near-constant supply of new yoga pants. Whenever I see charges from Lululemon and Alo on my credit card, I get a spontaneous erection just thinking about her showing off her new outfits for me.
"Are you okay?" Scout wrinkles her nose at me. "You went away somewhere, and then you started looking horny."
She knows me too well.
"Yeah, Pretty Girl. I'm more than okay. By the way, I have something to show you later," I tell her. "After practice."
"Another surprise? The last time you surprised me, we christened a coat closet at a gala."
"This is different."
She turns in my arms and studies my face. "Is that a good thing?"
"I think you'll be pleased."
Before she can interrogate me further, her alarm goes off. "Shit, I need to go. My class starts in forty minutes."
I sigh and get moving. My brain is more interested in what will happen tonight, but I slog through dryland training anyway. After a shower and video review and all the normal rhythms of professional hockey, I text Scout.
Me
Meet me at the rink. Main entrance.
Scout
Why?
Me
Trust me.
Scout
Those words have gotten me in trouble before.
Me
Good trouble though.
She sends back a laughing emoji and I catch myself grinning.
The arena is mostly empty by the time she arrives.
A few maintenance staff and security are doing rounds, but the public spaces are deserted.
She finds me by the doors to the main rink, curiosity written all over her face.
She's wearing yoga pants and a tight Havoc tank top under an open hoodie, her honey blonde hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders.
Those moss-green eyes search mine, trying to figure out what I'm up to.
Beautiful doesn't even begin to cover it.
"What are we doing here?"
"Patience, please?"
She gives me a look like she's trying to figure out what I have up my sleeve.
I lead her through the doors onto the concourse and take her down to rink level. The ice stretches out before us, pristine and perfect, Zamboni tracks still visible. The overhead lights are dimmed to maintenance levels, giving everything a twilight quality.
"Are we allowed to be here?" Scout asks.
"I cleared it with management."
"For what?"
Instead of answering, I grab two pairs of skates from the bench. Mine and a pair I borrowed from equipment that should fit her.
She eyes them with amusement. "You're making me skate in street clothes?"
"I've seen you skate in worse."
"Fair point." She sits down and laces up with practiced efficiency. "This better be worth missing dinner."
"It will be."
I step onto the ice first and reach back for her hand. She takes it, gliding onto the ice with easy confidence. Her movements are smooth and natural, the way they always are when I catch her skating between sessions at the rink.
"Show off," I mutter as she does a little spin.
"You're dating an athlete, remember? We do coordination for a living."
"Don't let go," I say anyway.
"Never." I look at her, my heart rate speeding up. "Not ever, Scout."
She tilts her head to the side. "You're being both extremely weird and extremely sweet tonight."
I say nothing, just wipe my spare hand on my pants. It's sweaty and gross. Scout doesn't seem to mind though.
We move slowly, me skating backward while Scout matches my pace with the kind of grace that comes from regular practice. She's not a hockey player, but she's spent enough time on the ice that it's second nature now.
"Look at you," I say. "Making this look easy."
She smirks. "I was born in skates. Same way I bet you were."
"Jett has some polaroids of me in a hockey uniform at four. They're... pretty cute, I guess," I admit grumpily.
"Oh. Now I have to see those."
I grunt. We make it to center ice and I stop. Scout raises an eyebrow at me.
"Why are we stopping? Are you going to make me do bag skates?"
I shake my head slowly, my heart pounding harder than it should. Enforcers twice my size have given me less nerves than this moment.
"This place taught me a lot of things," I say. "Discipline. Focus. How to take a hit and keep going."
"Okay..."
"But it also taught me to never show weakness." I brush a loose wave away from her face with one hand while keeping her steady with the other. "You taught me something different."
Scout's expression softens. "Silas..."
"You taught me that strength isn't about walls. It's about choosing to stay open even when it's scary. It's about letting someone see all of you, not just the parts that are easy to love."
Her eyes are bright with tears that don't fall. "If you're about to make me cry on ice skates, I'll never forgive you."
"Too bad."
I drop to one knee on the ice, which is exactly as uncomfortable as it sounds. Scout gasps, one hand flying to her mouth, the other reaching for my shoulder instinctively.
"Scout," I say, pulling out the ring I've been carrying for months, waiting for the right time. "You see all my sharp edges and choose to stay anyway."
"Baby, of course I do."
"I love your terrible dancing and your aggressive morning energy. I love how you take care of everyone but still protect your boundaries. I love that you turned my cold condo into a home just by being in it."
Tears stream down her face now. Definitely crying.
"Will you marry me?" I ask. "Keep teaching me how to be better? Let me watch you heal hockey players? Be my partner in absolutely everything?"
Before I even finish, she says yes. She brushes away a tear. "Yes to all of it. Yes, I will."
The ring slides onto her finger while my hands shake.
It's huge, an exquisite yellow diamond. She'll have to take it off when she does yoga or Mobility Mondays.
But I need other people to look at her and realize how very married she is to someone who cares enough to get her a rock the size of a small moon.
For a moment she just stares at it, then launches herself at me.
Both of us go down hard.
Freezing ice presses against my back while Scout's on top of me, laughing and kissing my entire face. I'm mainly concerned about protecting us from skate blades.
"We're going to die," I point out between kisses.
"Worth it."
"Your engagement story is going to be that I proposed and then you ended up with a concussion."
"Still worth it."
I somehow manage to get us vertical again, though Scout's laughing too hard to skate properly now. I keep her steady as we make our way to the boards, both of us grinning like idiots.
"I can't believe you proposed on the ice," she says.
"Where else would I do it? This is where I learned to be tough. You're where I learned to be soft. It felt right to finish my story as a bachelor here."
She kisses me again, slower this time, and I can taste her happiness mixed with tears.
"I love you," she whispers against my mouth.
"I love you too."
We sit on the home bench while Scout immediately pulls out her phone to look at the ring in better light. "How long have you been planning this?"
"Bought the ring months ago. I've been carrying it around like an idiot ever since."
"Why tonight?"
"Because this morning I woke up happy. And I realized I get to keep waking up like that as long as you're here."
She leans into my side and smiles. "That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said."
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late. You're soft now. No taking it back."
Quiet fills the arena around us, empty seats and dormant dreams surrounding our moment.
In a few days this place will be packed with screaming fans while I'm out there throwing hits and protecting my teammates.
Scout will be in her studio, teaching people to move without pain, building her business one body at a time.
And someday soon, I'll have to retire. My body still has a clock on it, even if I'm more flexible from living with Scout.
But right now, it's just us. A woman who teaches flexibility and a man who's learning to bend. A ring that promises permanence and a life that finally feels worth keeping.
"Hey," Scout says suddenly. "We're getting married."
"We are."
"Scout Huxley sounds right to me. I'm going to be Scout Huxley."
"If you want. You can keep Nash. It's whatever you want."
"Are you kidding? I just want you, big guy."
God, I'm so gone for her. "You have me. Forever, apparently."
"Forever," she agrees.
And the word doesn't scare me at all.