Chapter 28
Gunnar
Hours passed, and then the North Sea stretched before us, a vast expanse of steel gray water that seemed to meld with the horizon.
I watched Zaila’s face as she absorbed the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my Swedish home.
The tension in her shoulders, a constant companion since her mother’s passing, eased further as she breathed in the fresh, salty tang.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, her hand against the glass.
I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around her from behind. “Welcome to Hoga Kusten, the High Coast.”
She leaned back into me, and I savored the feel of her body. “How high are we talking?”
“Nearly three hundred meters above sea level,” I said, nuzzling her neck. “Highest coastline in the world.”
Zaila turned in my arms, her eyes searching mine. “Gunnar Evaldson, are you secretly a geography nerd as well as a hockey nerd?”
I grinned, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. “Maybe. But it’s a distant second to hockey. Want to explore?”
Her answering smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. “Lead the way.”
We spent the afternoon wandering the rugged shore, the salty air whipping Zaila’s hair into wild waves. The landscape was a study in contrasts, the jagged cliffs of red Nordingr? granite jutting out from the green forests and tapering down to the steely, volatile sea.
As we hiked along a trail, I shared stories I hadn’t thought about in years.
“My brother and I used to come up here every summer,” I said, helping Zaila over a rocky stretch—she didn’t need it, but I wanted to touch her again.
“We’d spend hours exploring the islands, pretending we were Viking warriors.
He was ten years older, but he indulged my imagination.
” I swallowed a lump of emotion. “That’s why I bought this place. To remember the good times.”
Zaila squeezed my hand. “That sounds amazing. I bet you were a fierce Viking.”
I chuckled, and the sound surprised even me. “Oh, the fiercest. Until I tripped over my own feet and fell face first into a tidepool. Karl fished me out.”
Her laughter rang clear and bright, and something in my chest loosened. It had been so long since I’d heard that sound. I wouldn’t tell her so, but the depth of her grief had worried me. It was almost as if Zaila were slipping away…
As the sun dipped towards the horizon, painting the sky in muted oranges and brilliant pinks, we made our way back to the house. Zaila’s eyes were clearer and her steps lighter. The change of scenery had seemed to work its magic.
“How about a sauna session before dinner?” I asked. We’d paused on the bench in the entryway to remove our hiking boots.
Zaila’s eyebrows shot up. “A sauna? Why, boss man, are you trying to get me naked?”
Heat crept up my neck, as if I were blushing. No, that couldn’t be. “I, uh... I mean, we don’t have to—” Holy shit. I was blushing. Zaila’s question had thrown me off kilter.
She cut me off with a kiss that was much too short but oh-so-sweet. As she pulled back, I anticipated the next one. Soon, I promised myself. This woman was my drug, more necessary than my next breath.
“Relax, Gunnar. I’m teasing. A sauna sounds perfect. But you’ll have to explain the finer points to me, what with me being American and all that.”
Getting to hold her made everything right in my world, so I once again ignored the voice deep in my mind that pointed out she was grieving, that she was on my payroll, that she was too young. None of that mattered when she made me feel whole.
Ten minutes later, we were ensconced in the cedar-lined sauna, the heat seeping into our muscles. I leaned back against the bench, closing my eyes and letting out a long breath. For the first time in what felt like decades, I allowed myself to fully relax.
“Oh my God,” Zaila’s voice broke through my haze of contentment. “Is that...is that a tattoo?”
My eyes snapped open to find her staring at my left biceps, where a small, intricate design was partially visible, peeking out from under the towel around my neck. I groaned, covering it with my hand. “Yes. A youthful mistake.”
But Zaila was already prying my fingers away, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh no, you don’t get to hide this. How did I miss it before?”
“I hid it,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, you did. Always giving me your good side, huh? Well, let me see.”
With a groan, I dropped my hand. The tattoo was supposed to be a tribute to my brother.
I didn’t remember going to the tattoo parlor, let alone describing what I wanted—I’d been wasted for days after I buried Karl.
I knew I’d considered getting a tattoo with Karl’s name and his hockey jersey number, but on my arm I had the words amor vitae, which translated to love of life, with what looked like a bent golf club instead of a hockey stick.
The whole thing was embarrassing, which was why I’d kept it.
Getting drunk, losing my sense of self hadn’t brought Karl back, nor had it created positive outcomes.
Never again, I reminded myself each time I looked at the stupid thing.
Zaila’s lips twitched as she studied the ink. “Amor vitae,” she read. Lifting an eyebrow, she met my gaze. “Love of...golf?”
I burst out laughing. The absurdity of it all, the years I’d spent hiding this ridiculous tattoo, proved hilarious. Zaila joined in, her giggles turning into full-blown guffaws as I explained the tattoo’s ignominious origins.
“Oh, Gunnar,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “That’s...that’s amazing.”
I pulled her close. Sweat slicked our bodies, dampening our towels, and I wished she were naked. But now wasn’t the time. Soon, I hoped. But not now. “You know what? It kind of is.”
As our laughter subsided, I marveled at how good it felt to let go, to be silly and imperfect with Zaila. “Thank you,” I murmured, kissing her temple.
She looked up at me. “For what?”
“For making me laugh. For being here. For...everything.” Zaila’s smile was tender as she traced the outline of my botched tattoo.
“No, no, I should thank you. This is just what I needed.”
We stayed just like that for a while, the heat of the sauna and the comfort of each other’s presence wrapping around us like a cocoon.
This moment, sharing this place, reinforced my earlier revelation that I needed her.
Not just wanted, but needed—like air, like the ice beneath my skates, like the beat of my heart.
Zaila brought with her a sense of peace I hadn’t known in years. Maybe ever.
When the timer went off, we stepped out of the sauna and into the cool evening air. The sky had deepened to a rich indigo, stars beginning to twinkle overhead. On impulse, I grabbed Zaila’s hand. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
I stopped long enough to grab us each a thick, fluffy robe and some clogs that I kept by the back door. Hers were too big, but she followed me as I led her down to the private dock jutting out into the sea. The water lapped against the wooden pilings, a soothing rhythm in the quiet night.
“Look,” I said, pointing out over the water.
Zaila gasped as she saw what I was pointing toward: the faint, shimmering curtains of green light dancing across the northern sky.
“The aurora borealis, nature’s best light show,” I said.
“Incredible,” she whispered.
I loved her like this—soft, awestruck, warm, and cuddly.
I loved who I was with her. Part of me wished we’d never return to Houston, to work and our lives—that we could stay here at the ends of the earth and soak in nature’s wonders. I’d never deal with another irritation, just love Zaila until I quit breathing.
There was definitely merit in this thought.
Though I wouldn’t be able to follow through.
Zaila would want to visit her mother’s grave, return to work, and I was too enmeshed in my hockey team to let someone else take over the day-to-day details I handled.
I’d been trying to find the right person since I’d started dating Zaila, but I hadn’t yet, and I wasn’t sure I could.
I wrapped my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder. “Not as incredible as you.”
She turned her head, a smirk playing at her lips. “Smooth talker.”
“I try,” I said. “I mean it, though. Zaila, you’ve brought light back into my life. Joy. Laughter. Things I thought I’d lost for good when Karl died.”
Her eyes shimmered in the starlight. “Gunnar...”
“I’m serious. I know what you’re going through, how much it hurts, how you want to run from it. And I know that you’ll be stronger than I was, handle your grief better than I did because you’re unstoppable, Zaila. It’s one of the many things I adore about you.”
She shook her head, overcome. With a quick movement, I scooped her up in my arms.
Zaila let out a squeal. “What are you doing?”
I grinned down at her. “Going for a swim!”
“Don’t you dare—Gunnar!”
Her protests dissolved into shrieks of laughter as I jumped off the dock, plunging us both into the chilly North Sea. We surfaced, sputtering and laughing, the shock of the cold water exhilarating.
“You’re insane!” Zaila gasped, splashing water at me.
I caught her hand, pulling her close. “Insanely in love with you.”
Zaila’s face broke into a radiant smile. “Well, that’s good,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Because I’m pretty insanely in love with you, too. And that was before you brought me to this magical place.”
As we kissed with the aurora shimmering overhead and the cool sea lapping around us, the world seemed full of possibility, of joy, of love.
We swam back to the dock, climbing out and wrapping ourselves in the thick towels I’d left there earlier. As we made our way back to the house, hands intertwined, I couldn’t stop smiling.
“What’s got you so happy?” Zaila asked, bumping her shoulder against mine.
I squeezed her hand. “Just thinking about how lucky I am, how grateful I am for this second chance at happiness.”
She leaned into me, her warmth a stark contrast to my chilly skin. “Me too, Gunnar. Me, too.”
Inside, we changed into dry clothes and curled up on the oversized couch in front of the fireplace. As the flames crackled and danced, casting a warm glow over the room, we continued to talk.
“You know, I used to come here to escape,” I said, running my fingers through Zaila’s hair. “From the pressure of the team, the expectations, the...loneliness, I guess.”
She tilted her head to look at me. “And now?”
I smiled. “Now it doesn’t feel like an escape. It feels like coming home, all because you’re here.”
Zaila’s answering smile was soft, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you, Gunnar Evaldson. Botched tattoos, impulsive swims, and all.”
I laughed, pulling her closer. “And I love you, Zaila Monroe. With all my heart.”