Epilogue
BENNETT
SIX MONTHS LATER
“Slow,” Merritt murmurs, gently, pushing my fingers in deeper. “Yes. Right there. That’s perfect.” Together, we stroke the inner wall. “See how much better it is when you don’t rush and you take your time?”
Jesus Christ.
“It’s all about the pressure. Not too little, but not too much.” She slowly guides my fingers in and out, creating a steady, rhythmic motion.
Because I can’t help myself, I slowly drag my nose along her neck, taking a deep inhale of her. I’ll never get enough of that warm, cherry vanilla scent.
I bring my mouth to her ear after pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the curve of her neck.
“I had no idea this could be so… intimate. So hot.”
She giggles, gripping my hand tighter and pushing my fingers in even deeper. “It’s a true test of that famous patience you boast about so much. You’ve got to be willing to put in as much time as it takes.”
I hum and suck that sensitive spot in her neck, right below her choker, drawing my teeth across the skin. She lets out a loud, breathy moan that echoes on the walls around us.
“Baby, respectfully, you’re about to get fucked in the middle of this pottery studio if you keep making noises like that. And making me finger fuck this clay, alright?”
“Bennett!” she cries with a laugh, lifting her foot off the pedal and twisting in my arms to look at me. “I am trying to teach you how to make a bowl.”
I roll my lips together, trying so damn hard not to fucking laugh. But I’m failing miserably. I sober my expression.
“And baby, I want to learn how to make this bowl. I am dedicated to seeing it through. But…” I lean in and steal a quick kiss that leaves her breathless. “Also, this whole Patrick and Demi pose from Ghost you’ve got us in is really not helping. My dick is confused. Poor guy.”
Merritt just shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
I nod. “I’m sorry. But I love you. And I promise, I am dedicated to making this bowl. And… to making you come.”
Ridiculousness is a personality trait for me at this point, but thankfully, I’ve found a girl who loves me for me, and man, it’s an incredible feeling.
At some point in this pottery lesson, I find myself completely entranced by Merritt, watching her meticulously shape the thick, earthy-scented clay into something far more beautiful than I could’ve ever attempted.
She’s guiding my hands, curving the edges carefully, biting her lip in intense concentration. And while I am watching what she’s making, I’m mostly just watching her.
Because she’s the art.
Not the things that she creates, but her. She’s a hundred different shades of color that make me feel alive for the first time in my life.
Shades of color that I didn’t even know existed until Merritt.
It’s crazy to think that just ten months ago, we got partnered on our Creative Writing project together.
It’s been the best ten months of my life.
Sometimes it feels like it was a lifetime ago with how much has changed. We graduated from OU in May and spent every second of the summer we could together, tangled up in the old hammock in her backyard.
Her reading some fan fiction about Teen Wolf or something like that, draped across me, her head on my chest. Me playing with her hair and feeling more content than I’ve ever felt in my life.
We spent so many nights playing board games with Elliott and her dad and a horrific amount of time watching horror movies.
And toward the end of summer, we spent two weeks at the lake house with my parents and Brie.
Elliott came too, and I honestly can’t remember a time I had more fun.
We spent the week tubing in the lake, floating until we were sunburnt and delirious, soaking up late nights by the fire, and sneaking away any chance we got.
It was the best summer of my life after the best senior year I could’ve imagined.
Truthfully, I hated that the summer had to come to an end because it meant everything was going to change. And while it’s big and exciting, I’m also a little scared.
I finally got the call I was waiting for.
Saint’s agent reached out to me toward the end of the season, and I signed with him. The team went on to lose in the second round of the NCAA regional tournament, and I was devastated.
We all were. It was over. My college career was done.
Just like that, and not the way I wanted to go out.
But we fought hard, and I’m proud of the way we represented OU.
But for me, it hit even heavier. I was worried I wasn’t just saying goodbye to the Hellcats, but that I’d also played the last hockey game of my career.
I’d barely made it back to the hotel when my phone rang.
It was my agent, informing me I had two teams calling.
I almost had a fucking heart attack. After that, everything was kind of a blur.
The next thing I knew, I had an offer from Michigan.
A two-year entry-level contract with their affiliate team.
They wanted me to develop with them. Practice.
Hopefully have some real time on the ice.
I report at the end of September for camp.
It feels surreal. Honestly just unfuckingbelievable. It probably won’t fully hit me until I step foot on the ice for the first time wearing a jersey that isn’t the Hellcats.
“There,” Merritt says, her voice filled with pride. “That is one cool-ass bowl.”
It’s a little… oddly shaped and has some rough edges, but look at what she was working with. My hands are meant to block pucks, not shape clay, so she did the best she could.
Plus, art is… subjective, right?
“It’s beautiful, baby,” I praise, and she beams, pulling her lip between her teeth. “You’re beautiful,” I add.
I’m soaking up these last few days before she starts law school at OU. I know her time will be limited, and we’ll have to get creative for a while about how to make our schedules work. We’ve talked about it a hundred times since I got signed.
And while we haven’t figured everything out just yet, I’m not worried.
We’ll make it work. Because for me… there isn’t a version of my dream that exists without Merritt. I’ll fly back and forth every day if that’s what it takes.
There’s no sacrifice that I wouldn’t make for her.
If she told me that she couldn’t do the distance and that she wanted me to find a job here… I’d walk away from the contract without a second glance.
But she’d never ask me to do that. She’s been the one who’s done nothing but support and encourage me to take this opportunity. Who always reminds me that nothing is out of reach when it comes to my dreams.
Merritt grabs the wire cutter from the tin of tools beside us and carefully cuts the bowl from the wheel and stands.
“I’m going to go put this up to dry, but I’ll be right back. The sink’s back there to wash your hands.” She gives me a quick kiss and heads to the other side of the studio.
I clean up while she’s wrapping the bowl, and then I lean against the front counter, waiting for her to finish up. There’s a text from Saint when I pull out my phone, and I click it open.
SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: Lennon booked you a flight in two weeks.
SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: We’re celebrating your contract
SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: Pack light.
My eyebrows shoot up.
The fuck?
I quickly tap out a response.
ME: Are you being held against your will rn? Send me an octopus if you’re in danger
SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: Shut the fuck up before I change my mind.
ME: Bestie, you’re taking me on a surprise guys trip?
SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: I fucking knew I shouldn’t have done this
SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: Nvm
ME: Too late. No take backs. You know what this means tho, right?
ME: You <3 me
SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: I’m blocking you. Trip’s cancelled
I laugh, pulling up my calendar to put the date into it.
I haven’t responded to his text yet when I get another. But not from Saint.
LENNON ROUSSEAU: No he’s not, and no it is not. Y’all are leaving at 12. Congrats Bennett!
Merritt walks back into the room, and I glance up, and she smiles. “Ready?”
I nod. “Yeah. Saint just texted me about a guys’ trip.”
“I know. We’re going on a girls’ trip that weekend. Mads and Stella are coming with us, and I’m so excited for them to finally meet Lennon and Maisie. I just didn’t tell you because it was a surprise.”
Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I snatch her up, tugging her against me. “Keeping stuff from me, baby?”
She giggles. “Just that. I’m sorry. But… I have something to make it up to you with.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.” She nods, tugging up the front of her shirt and flashing me a glimpse of so much lace, and bows, and straps, before quickly dropping it back into place.
Motherfucker.
Groaning, I start hauling her toward the door. “Time to go. Right now.”
“Nope. I want dinner and cherry Sprite first. Be a good boy, Goalie, and I might let you see what the bottom looks like before we get home.”
“That’s my Stabby Girl.”
Want a little extra of Bennett and Merritt?
Get their bonus scene HERE.
Turn the page to get a sneak peek into Saint and Lennon’s book… The Bad Boy Rule!