Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
TANK
L ater, as Steph and I head for her car and my bike—both parked in the lot across the street from Stone’s high rise—I feel lighter than I have in days.
Maybe weeks.
“So, what now?” I ask, reaching for her hand.
“Now, I swing back by the studio to grab Mr. Sniffles, and I meet you at home.” She sighs, before adding, “Unless you wanted to go out for ice cream or something? I’m tired, but I could rally.”
“No, I meant…” I pause, turning to face her. “You still up for me moving in? If so, I could start tomorrow while you’re teaching. My contract allowed me to keep coaching private clients until camp started, but now I belong to the Badgers. I’ll have a lot more free time on the weekends from here on out.”
Steph shakes her head as she moves into my arms. “Nope. You don’t belong to the Badgers. You belong to me, and in light of that very exciting fact, I’m going to cut down on work on the weekends, too.”
My brows lift. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says, brushing my hair from my forehead with an affection I’m determined to keep deserving. “I’ll still do Saturday mornings for all the die-hards who can’t make it any other day of the week, but I’ve already talked to Jessa and Nick about taking over Saturday afternoons and Sundays. And I’m going to keep an eye out for another part-time teacher, so I’m not gone every night while you’re home alone.”
“I mean, I would love that,” I say, “but I don’t want you to feel like you have to rearrange your entire life for me. I can make changes, too. I can come help out at the studio after work or?—”
“It’s not a sacrifice,” she cuts in. “It’s a realignment. Turns out I have dreams that are just as important to me as building a beautiful business.”
“What kind of dreams?”
She lifts a shoulder, a shy smile curving her lips. “Just dreams. Relationship dreams and free time to enjoy my man dreams. And maybe…family dreams, someday.”
“I have those dreams, too,” I murmur, falling for her all over again. “And I want to make them all come true. With you.”
Her expression softens. “Yeah? So, we’re a team?”
“Best team I’ve ever been on,” I say, meaning it.
And I know that’s not something that’s ever going to change.
Even when I breeze into the locker room on Monday morning to find Garcia’s locker empty, the weasel long gone, and camp suddenly a much nicer place to be, Stephanie is still my number one.
Even as the season moves forward and my bonds with Stone and Cruise deepen into real friendships, my girl is always at the top of my mind.
Even when we have a season for the record books, the Badgers missing a slot in the Stanley Cup Finals by the skin of our teeth, the knowledge that I’m headed home to the sexiest, sweetest woman in the world banishes the sting of defeat.
The loss sucks, sure—I’m still a competitive asshole—but as I clean out my locker for the summer, I feel something I never expected to feel after falling short of our goal…
Contentment.
“Next year,” Stone says, clapping me on the shoulder with a rueful smile. “We’re taking it all the way next year.”
“All the fucking way,” I agree, tossing my worn gloves into a bin for donation. I’ve already packed my lucky pads, the ones that saw me through the best season of my career, into my gear bag. I’m not superstitious—okay, maybe a little superstitious—but there’s no way in hell I’m giving those up.
“Any big plans for the off-season?” Stone asks as we head toward the exit.
I shrug, but there’s a smile tugging at my lips as I say, “Nah, nothing too crazy. Unpacking all the shit we haven’t unpacked since we moved last month. Maybe a vacation somewhere sandy and sunny. Taking it easy. You?”
“Actually, I’ve got a date. My first date in over a year. Tomorrow night.”
My brows shoot up. “Yeah? Good for you, man. It’s about time you got back in the ring. Who’s the lady? Anyone I know?”
“Um, no, not really, but…” He rubs the back of his neck, pausing beside me with a pointed look at the players leaving the locker room in front of us.
I stop, waiting until we’re alone before I ask, “What’s up?”
He shakes he head. “It’s nothing, just…” He laughs. “No, it’s not nothing. This woman is trouble, man. She’s trouble, and she brings out the dumbest side of me. Like, really dumb. Crazy dumb. But…” He shrugs. “Fucking on the DL just isn’t enough anymore, you know? I want more. I want feelings, more time with her.” His shoulders hunch closer to his ears. “I don’t know, maybe a house and a dog or a cat someday. Like you and Steph.”
I nod, my brow furrowing as I take all that in. “Okay. If that’s what you want, then you should go for it, but…” I search for a delicate way to make my next point, but eventually just ask in the gentlest tone possible, “Is shooting for forever with a walking red flag really the smartest choice? Kind of sounds like you’re setting yourself up to fail before you even get started.”
He sighs. “I know.”
“And someone who brings out your dumb side doesn’t sound great either,” I add. “The team needs you smart and sharp. Hell, you need you smart and sharp.”
He nods slowly. “Yep. Excellent points. You’re right and I know you’re right, but this is some powerfully potent pussy, brother.”
“Say that three times fast,” I say dryly, slinging my bag back over my shoulder.
As we push through the locker room doors, he adds in a whisper, “I called it a Voodoo Vagina the other day. She was so pissed. I thought she was going to strangle me with my own jock strap.” He sighs again, a dreamier one this time. “She’s so great.”
I laugh as we move down the hall. “So, it’s too late for logic, then. That’s what you’re saying.”
“Basically,” he confirms.
“Then just have fun, man. Enjoy it while it lasts. Who knows? Sometimes troublesome people change their ways.”
“You sure did,” he says as we step out into the late spring sunshine, the air warm and sweet. “Aw, look. There she is now, your lady love.” He slugs me on the bicep with a laugh. “Jesus, you should see your face. You are so gone on her.”
“So gone,” I agree, grinning at where Steph leans against her car, her hair in that cute-as-fuck little puff ponytail on top of her head that she’s been wearing since deciding to give her scalp a break from the extensions and braids.
She’s wearing one of my old Badgers T-shirts knotted at her waist with ripped up jeans that make it impossible to think straight.
God, she’s just…fine as hell.
And mine. So far, that’s not even close to growing old or becoming something I take for granted.
She lifts an arm, waving our way, her smile widening as I jog across the pavement toward her. Stone makes a gagging sound behind me before shouting, “Call me later this week. Let’s set up a date to go mountain biking before it gets too hot. Have a good night, Steph.”
She wiggles her fingers and calls, “Thanks, you too, Stone,” before fixing her full attention on me. “Well, hello there, you. Happy summer vacation.”
“Happy summer vacation,” I murmur, dropping my duffel to pull her into my arms. I kiss her, smiling against her mouth as I add, “Fuck, I’m looking forward to three months of sleeping in with you.”
She laughs, her breath puffing softly against my lips. “Some of us still have classes to teach four morning a week, mister.”
I hum low in my throat. “Shit, that’s right.” I pull back, smiling down at her as I add, “Guess I’ll just have to get used to yoga in the morning instead of the afternoon and come with you.”
“Or you could sleep in with Mr. Sniffles.”
I grunt. “With his stank ass? I’ll pass.”
“Oh, he’s been much better lately and you know it,” she says, as I reach for the back door, tossing my gear onto the seats. “The childproof lock on the compost was an inspired idea.”
“Speaking of inspired ideas,” I say, circling around to the passenger’s side. “Want to put off unpacking for another day and take a drive to the beach, watch the sunset on the sand? Maybe grab dinner at Sugar’s Seaside?”
We love our new apartment, a two bedroom closer to both the arena and her studio, with lots of room for Mr. Sniffles to explore when he’s home alone. But so far, we’ve been too busy to get to the “low-priority” boxes stacked against the wall in the living room.
Her eyes light up. “You know I love an excuse not to unpack.”
I bob my brows. “I know you do.” I nod toward the parking lot exit, “Drop me off in front of our building? I can be up to the apartment and down with Mr. Sniffles, poop bags, puppy snacks, and his bed for the backseat in ten minutes.”
“Grab a bag of wipes in case he drools on the floor at Sugar’s when he smells all that yummy fried food, and you’ve got a deal, baby,” she says with a wink.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re on the highway headed toward the coast, Mr. Sniffles hanging his head out the window in back, Steph’s hand in mind, and nothing but clear skies ahead.
I can honestly say, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
I’m pretty sure I couldn’t be any happier, in fact, but then Steph says—”Oh, I forgot to tell you! I signed us up for that breakdancing class at The Dance Warehouse. They had two spots left. We start next Friday night!”—and I realize all over again that I should never underestimate how good things can get with this woman.
With my best friend, my ride or die, my Steph, the dream I’m never giving up on.
Not today or any other day, not until death do us part.