Chapter 42 Théo
I had an early morning practice, took Aspen to the park for an extra long run as part of my off-ice conditioning—and to get him exhausted enough that I’d have the entire afternoon alone with his daddy.
I made teriyaki salmon with sautéed broccoli and brown rice while I waited for Derek to return.
Music played low from my phone, something mellow and acoustic, so when the key turned in the lock, I heard it.
I had a Pavlovian response to that sound. My heart rate kicked up, my skin prickled with anticipation. It didn’t help that when he turned the knob, the ribbon of bells Aspen used to let us know he needed to go outside rang like some kind of ceremonial announcement.
He’s home.
And I’d been thinking about him constantly.
Waking up, falling asleep, in the middle of practice when I should have been focusing on my edges.
I’d never been like this before. Not with Nico, not with anyone.
The wanting had always been something I could compartmentalize, tuck away, keep at arm’s length.
With Derek, it just... lived in me. Constant. Unavoidable.
I didn’t know what to do with that.
I circled around the kitchen island just as Derek was setting down his bags. Aspen was so exhausted from our run that he hadn’t even lifted his head from his dog bed—just cracked one eye open, confirmed it was Derek, and went back to sleep.
Good boy. Excellent wingman.
I jumped into Derek’s arms. Actually jumped—feet leaving the ground with the same explosive push I used for takeoff, knees tucked, body lifting like muscle memory didn’t know the difference between a triple axel and throwing myself into his arms.
He laughed as he caught me, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine. His hands gripped my ass while I wrapped my legs around his waist, ankles crossing behind his back.
“God, the height you get on your jumps is acrobatic,” he said, grinning up at me.
“I guess I can join the circus if figure skating doesn’t work out.”
His split lip was fully healed and his bruising had faded but he’d kept the short dark beard.
I’d spent weeks dreaming about this face—about touching it, pressing my mouth to every inch of it without a screen in the way.
The beard made him look a little dangerous.
A little less golden boy, a little more daddy.
I cupped his cheeks in my hands and gave him a soft, chaste kiss. Just a brush of lips.
It took everything I had to keep it chaste. My whole body was screaming at me to climb him like a tree and never come down.
“I missed you,” I murmured against his mouth. “But I also made lunch so put me down.”
He made a disgruntled noise but lowered me to the floor, hands lingering on my hips. “We are definitely revisiting this position.”
“Okay, Mr. Caveman.” I rolled my eyes and tugged him toward the kitchen. “Food first. You need to keep your strength up.”
“For what?”
I just smiled lasciviously and handed him a plate.
We ate at the counter, knees bumping together, trading bites and catching up on the last two days.
He told me about drinks with Sabrina and how she had warned him off.
I had fallen asleep after an intense training session that day and they’d had a late game the next night, so I hadn’t gotten a chance to call him.
I told him about the new spin sequence I was working on with Coach Miller and about how Aspen might have a new girlfriend—a golden retriever that lived three doors down.
It was easy. Comfortable. The kind of mundane intimacy I hadn’t known I was starving for until I had it.
Derek finished his last bite of salmon, set his fork down, and looked at me with an expression that made my stomach flip.
“That was delicious,” he said.
“Thank you. I’ve been practicing my—”
He picked up both our plates, dumped them in the sink with zero ceremony, and turned back to me with intent written all over his face.
“Derek, what are you—”
He lifted me like I weighed nothing—which, to be fair, to him I probably didn’t—and threw me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Derek!” I yelped, laughing despite myself. The blood rushed to my head as he started walking toward the bedroom. “Oh my God, you absolute Neanderthal, put me down, I have to clean up—”
“Nope.” He punctuated the word with a firm squeeze to my ass. “I’ve been thinking about this for fucking weeks. The dishes can wait.”
Aspen lifted his head as we passed, gave us a long suffering look, and dropped back down with a sigh.
When we reached his bedroom, Derek kicked the door shut behind us.