Chapter 12
LARSON
Four months later
I’m grinning as I make my way to the waiting area, where families who attended the game hang out until we’re finished changing and can leave together. Four months ago, Dylan told me he could be ‘a bit much.’ I didn’t actually see that for a few weeks.
When we’re together, when it’s just us, he’s so focused on me that I can’t imagine him in any other way. However, the first time he attended one of my games, and I was shoved into the boards, he lost his shit in the box, apparently.
I was shoved three times tonight. As I approach the room, I can hear him ranting. I wonder if he’s been ranting the entire time.
Dylan is on his feet in those sexy fucking heels, wearing jeans that are glued to his legs and a shirt that’s tied at his waist and loops around his shoulders, showing some sexy skin.
He’s staring at one of the television screens with Sports Spot recapping the game, yelling at an audience that can’t hear him.
More specifically, he’s yelling at the refs as if they’re there.
“Twelve hits eighteen into the wall and gets a penalty, and Larson is slammed three times, and no one looks their way. Because he’s a giant?
Is that it? The bigger guy can take the pounding.
Why aren’t your eyes open, stupid refs? You should all be fired.
Fined. Banned. Skinned alive! Maybe he should slam you against the walls and see how you like it. ”
There’s a small crowd of people waiting for their family, all eyes on Dylan. Some are amused, others weary. A few are annoyed.
“Best get your diva out of here,” Mandrick says with a smirk as he sidles by me into the room, clapping my shoulder.
Dylan hears him and spins around. His eyes land on me, and he beams. He runs—in heels, mind you—and leaps into my arms. I catch him easily, holding him up by his delectable ass. His lips are on mine, and I hum happily.
“You played a great game, baby,” Dylan says, eyes shining with pride.
I didn’t make a goal tonight. I didn’t get an assist. But as far as Dylan is concerned, I was the star of the show.
Life has been magic since I picked Dylan up from the airport thirteen weeks ago. If I’d been concerned that we jumped the gun and this was going to be a disaster, those three weeks without him were fucking miserable. I felt like a mopey puppy pining for my master’s love.
I hated every single moment without him. I was miserable. I made everyone around me miserable because I was bitchy and lonely, longing for my man.
Nothing has been the same since. I’m so in love with this man, it’s sickening. Even I can say that, and I’m the one floating on cloud nine.
“Ready to go home?”
“Yes, please. Or I’m going to track down those refs and knee them in the balls. Maybe it’ll make them open their eyes.”
Mandrick laughs loudly at his words.
“I don’t think he’s been kneed in the balls,” someone mutters. “I certainly close my eyes.”
“It’s about the lesson,” Dylan says, glaring at him. “Miss something glaringly obvious when you’re looking straight at it and get a pointy heel right in your nuts. Are you telling me you wouldn’t think twice about overlooking something if that was the promise of what’s coming after, darlin’?”
I can’t keep my grin off my face. Mandrick is likewise grinning. Jordeau squeezes by us, glancing in Dylan’s direction but not saying anything. He’s not a Dylan fan. He’s not a fan of mine either.
I kiss Dylan’s cheek and turn with him in my arms as we head down the hall.
There are so many pictures of just this out in the world as paparazzi linger around the parking lot for a glimpse.
There were so, so many when Dylan first arrived.
There are fewer now because it’s common. No one cares about repeated pictures.
“I think they’re afraid of me,” Dylan says once I’ve joined him in the truck.
“Oh?”
“Yep. Security is usually hanging outside the door by the box.” He rolls his eyes.
I chuckle. “I’m sure you could get them in a headlock if you tried.”
Dylan sniffs. “Probably. Oh, hey. My sister and mom will be here in a week. They can come to a game, right?”
“Depends on when they’ll be here. My last game is in four days.”
“Last game?” he asks, eyebrows knit together as he looks at me with concern.
“End of the season. Remember?”
“Oh, right.” I can hear the nervousness in his tone. I’m not sure why he’s so concerned about my career ending suddenly, but it’s been there since we first started talking about hockey back on Kala.
“There’s no indication I’m leaving Detroit,” I tell him. “I just spoke to my agent last week.”
“That means we’ll stay here.”
“My contract with the Purple Fins is for another year, so, yes.” I grip his hand, and Dylan looks at me. “Even if I sign with someone else in the future, it’s not a big deal. Why are you so worried?”
He sighs. “I don’t know. I guess… I’ve never worried about someone else’s career before. I just don’t want you to be… laid off?”
I laugh. “I won’t be let go.”
Dylan nods.
“How’s Booty Boudoir II going?”
He sighs. “I don’t know. It took me so long to acquire all the goods on Kala.”
Dylan misses his studio. We have plans to head back to Kala for a bit this summer so he can enjoy his studio again and check in on his business.
He hired and trained a new photographer before joining me in the US, which is why he couldn’t come with me immediately.
There was a lot of discussion with the owners of the resort about whether they were comfortable with him continuing to own the business when he’s not here running it.
I was indignant when he was initially telling me about this. It sounded to me like they were trying to force him to sell the business he’d built and loved. In the end, they allowed him to keep it. Dylan promised that when I retired, we’d return, and he’d want his business back.
It’s not something we’ve talked about, but I’m looking forward to it. Maybe I’ll build a rink and train locals to play hockey. Kala is a bit far away to become a part of the league, but I’m sure I can think of something.
For now, we’re here. Together. Happy.
Dylan’s phone dings, and he looks down. A smile spreads across his face, and he turns the screen to me. It’s a picture of Tomy next to a dartboard with the ref’s picture on it and covered in darts.
Perhaps the most interesting thing to happen is that Dylan and Tomy have become besties.
Even more interestingly, Dylan is training Tomy in photography, and he enjoys using me as a subject.
Was it awkward when Dylan had the idea that Tomy should take photos of us fucking?
Stylistic photos, of course. Tasteful. Artful?
Yes, it was fucking weird. And yet, I forgot he was there within minutes.
Even weirder is that Dylan likes to use our photos as art around the house. Which means we’ve had to learn not to miss any of them when people come over. That leads to some colorful interactions.
“See? Even Tomy knows the ref is stupid,” Dylan says.
“Tomy didn’t watch the game. That particular ref wasn’t on tonight.”
“How do you know that?”
“The number on his arm is twenty-eight.” Dylan looks at his phone. “Twenty-eight wasn’t here tonight.”
He begins tapping away on his phone, and the only noise in the car is the road and the sounds of him texting.
“Tomy says they all look alike in stripes,” Dylan announces.
I snort.
“He’s coming over tomorrow. He’ll prove his point.”
Tomy’s moved to Detroit recently so he can be close to his new bestie. Dylan is still trying to set him up, though he says he’s at a disadvantage now since he doesn’t know everyone locally, but he has his eye on a man down the road.
A straight man, mind you. Dylan’s convinced that he’s not straight; he’s just been indoctrinated into believing that’s the only option.
I don’t get involved. Tomy is totally crushing on this man, so he goes back and forth on whether he’s humoring Dylan or trying to convince Dylan to let it go.
Dylan is in my arms as soon as we’re out of the car, and I cover his mouth with mine. “Say goodnight to Tomy,” I instruct.
“Aw, baby. You know you’re my entire world, right? Tomy is just a little star that I love to dress up.”
I laugh. He’s more than that. I think Tomy is the friend Dylan has always wanted. He’s pretty opposite of Dylan, which makes them a perfect pair in friendship.
“I love you,” I tell him, loving the way his breath catches every single time I tell him. “So, so much.”
Dylan sighs and rests his forehead against mine. “I think we need to thank Tomy more.”
“Tomy, Tomy, Tomy,” I tease.
He grins. “If he hadn’t booked that photoshoot, we’d never have met,” Dylan says. “I can’t imagine a life without you.”
I hug him a little tighter. Deciding to leave my bag in the car for the night, I head for the door. I don’t want to let him go, even for a second, so I’m not going to.
“You’re right. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to go,” I admit.
“Do you think if you’d not gone, we’d have still met?”
“I ran into you at the sports shop that same afternoon,” I remind him.
He gives me a demure expression that has me laughing. “I saw you walk in and followed. And before you bring up the boat tour, I illegally looked you up in the scheduling system to see where you were going to be.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. The universe put you in front of me, and I wasn’t about to let you get away.”
“You’re right. We need to thank Tomy. How’s it going with Lex down the road?”
He huffs and rolls his eyes. “That man is stubborn. But I’ll wear him down. I’m trying to get Tomy to subtly flirt. Maybe wear some short shorts. Crop top. A slutty necklace. Then we’ll walk down the road when Lex is out working on his bike.”
I don’t even ask what a slutty necklace is.
“Maybe we just thank him,” I suggest.
“Yes, with a love story!”
I shake my head, kicking my shoes off inside the door. We stop at the alarm system, and I arm it. Then it’s into the bedroom where I drop us onto the bed and press my face into his chest. Dylan sighs, his fingers running through my hair.
“I love you too,” Dylan says quietly. “Every day, I can’t believe I get to have you forever.”
“Forever,” I agree.