Chapter 20
CONNER
Five months later
I feel like I’m always unpacking. This is the third place we’ve moved into since coming to Seattle.
We stayed in the first for only three weeks before the building was sold and some shady business went down, which resulted in all the tenants being asked to leave.
We signed a lease, but apparently, slumlords purchased the building, and we chose to consider it a blessing in disguise.
Since Jude’s season was just starting, we hopped into the rental house market with the intent of just staying put for a while.
In the spring, we’d look again. Except we hated the house we ended up in.
Because we were in a hurry to find somewhere before Jude was caught up traveling for hockey, we took one of the first we found that met the size we were looking for.
Slumlords round two. The neighborhood was loud with people running in and out all night. Honking horns, skidding tires, revving engines. The house might have had a fresh coat of paint, but everything inside was well past its expiration date.
We held out for a handful of months before the water heater went out, flooding much of the house, and the landlord tried to tell us we’d need to replace it.
That’s when we decided to move. We packed our shit and stuck it in a storage pod and chose to stay in a hotel until we landed our very own house.
It’s gorgeous, just outside the city, quiet, and we own it. No one is going to sell it from under us, and we don’t need to worry about the radiator being so old that it might burst into flames in the middle of the night.
We did hire a housing lawyer or whatever they’re called.
All we’re asking for is damages from the previous rental.
However, after an inspector went through the house, they’re pulling together a mass action suit against them.
Considering they own eight apartment buildings and a handful of houses in the same area, they have a lot to answer for.
We don’t care about the big picture. We just want damages for what we lost—which, admittedly, isn’t a lot—and compensation for the forty days we spent in a damn hotel because they refused to fix the water heater.
But none of that matters now. We own this home. Together.
The thought makes my stomach flip. There are days I still can’t believe I’m here. This is my real life. If I ever think I’m dreaming, I look at all the boxes I still need to unpack.
We closed on the house while Jude was in the middle of an eight-game away streak. Which meant I was the one here to supervise the movers bringing our boxes and furniture in. Since I work from home, it wasn’t a huge deal.
It also means I’m once again unpacking. Hopefully, for the last time for a while. Jude’s contract isn’t no trade, but he’s relatively certain that he’ll be with Seattle for at least another year. That’s good enough for us.
I cut through the tape and flatten a box before choosing another at random.
We’d been in such a hurry to get out of the flooded apartment that we didn’t bother organizing or labeling.
Jude called in a bunch of his hockey buddies, and we practically threw everything into boxes while simultaneously filling a moving pod.
It was quick work with six big guys helping us. Then, once again, I was living out of a suitcase.
My box cutter slices through the tape, and I open another box. My heart nearly stops when I look into the empty stare of a No Face mask. Chills break out over my body, and I shut the box. Nope. Not unpacking this one.
I set it aside and try not to think of the secrets of Dark Island. I know nothing. Nothing happened. There’s not a half-mad man locked away underground who talks to ghosts about the dead bodies. A group of masked men didn’t try to murder me for stumbling upon their secrets.
“Doesn’t exist,” I murmur and choose another box. I’m more cautious when opening this one. I can’t imagine I’ll find a second box with a No Face mask. Just in case, I peer under the box flap.
Ah, there are the damn mugs. I pick up the box and head into the kitchen with it.
Just as I’m loading the dishwasher with the last of the mugs, I hear the front door and grin. My heart jumps around in my chest as I turn. I’d really love to meet him at the door, but is that too ‘eager puppy’?
Fuck it. I am an eager puppy.
I drop the dish towel on the counter and head down the hall. There he is—Jude Vincent. My Jude. He’s wearing a hat and a hoodie over his gym shorts and sneakers. I almost laugh every time I see him half-dressed for the weather. Today, he even has gloves on. Yet it’s not cold enough to wear pants.
He’s looking a little scruffy with his beard. I love that look on him. He looks so much like his father, Zak, but he’s uniquely Jude.
He drops his bag and shoves his suitcase to the side, where it falls over and shuts the door behind him. Jude looks up, and our eyes meet. There’s a moment where we remain perfectly still, staring. Eyes locked. My heart races. My god, this man is mine. We own a house together.
Jude licks his lips, and I grin. I’m not sure which of us moves first, but we meet in the middle and wrap around each other, our mouths colliding. It’s cute that he tastes like mints, as if he knew this was the first thing our mouths would be doing.
He sighs, resting his forehead against mine. “I need to tell you something,” he says.
“I left a box for you. There’s a frightening mask in it,” I reply.
He snorts. “Huh.”
“What did you want to say?”
“I love you.”
Shivers cover my entire body. I pick my head up to look into his eyes. He’s smiling under all that facial hair. “Yeah?”
Jude nods. “Yep.”
“Curious when you realized that.”
“When I realized it? On my drive to our house, where my boyfriend was waiting for me. I also realized that I’ve loved you for quite some time.”
I close my eyes, trying to ignore the way my heartbeat continues accelerating as if it’s going to take off. “I love you.”
“Do you?”
“I mean, you saved my life, and you’re the best hole I’ve ever had.”
Jude laughs. The sound fills the foyer and makes me grin. “Those are good reasons to love someone.”
Still grinning, I open my eyes. “I realized two months ago, but I’ve been too nervous to say so.”
“I wouldn’t have run,” Jude says.
“I know.”
“Show me around our new home.”
I kiss him again and turn. “Only until we’re finished unpacking do you get to keep your shoes on inside. The floors are gross, but I can’t function with all the boxes to clean them.”
“Who knew we had so much shit?” he mutters as we pass the pile of broken-down boxes, which is impressive considering the pyramid of boxes left to unpack.
“This will be our family room at one point,” I inform him.
“I like all the furniture stacked against the wall,” he notes.
“I thought it saved space. It’s big enough to have a half rink if we keep the side tables and lounge chairs on top of the couch. The television is snugly against the wall behind the couch for safekeeping.”
“Ah, good thinking.”
The rest of the family room furniture is stacked in the dining room with the table and chairs. The table is on its side. The chairs are stacked.
“Obstacle course. Nice touch,” Jude comments.
“I thought so. Need to keep you nimble.”
I bring him into the kitchen next. “All the mugs have been located and are currently being washed,” I wave at the dishwasher. “Otherwise, we have two bowls, one plate, six bowl plates, two butter knives, and a fork.”
Jude looks at me. “What?”
I shrug. “I didn’t pack the kitchen. I think your buddies were having fun splitting shit up, though. I found the peanut butter with the video games and several pairs of your socks.”
He shakes his head. “Hard to find good help these days.”
“If you like that, wait until you see our bedroom.” I grip his hand and bring him into the bedroom. “I have one pillow, one flat sheet, and towels. I have no idea where the rest is. I’m going to assume I’ll find one piece at a time.”
Jude sighs.
“On the bright side, the bed is now covered in towels. Easy cleanup.”
His laughter fills the bedroom again, and he pulls me against his chest. My hands drop to his sexy ass, and I squeeze the luscious globes. I love his ass. Everything about it.
“Welcome home,” I murmur, pressing my lips to his. “I missed you.”
“Me too,” he says, sighing. “I love knowing that you’re here when I come home from hockey. It never occurred to me to want someone to come home to, but I can’t tell you how excited I get knowing you’re here waiting for me.”
“I know. Life felt really bleak there for a while, so it’s… surreal that this is my life, you know? I have a job that I don’t hate, and while it has nothing to do with hockey, I’m dating a hockey player. That’s just as good, right?”
Jude beams. “You’re still deep in hockey, just in a very different way.”
“Speaking of being deep in hockey, our new house hasn’t seen an orgasm yet. Take your clothes off. I need to get off.”
“Thank fuck,” he mutters as he quickly strips. Together, we yank our clothes off. “Tell me you found the lube and condoms.”
“I didn’t. They’re probably packed away with the laundry soap, my skates, and a throw pillow. I bought some earlier today when it became clear that I wasn’t going to find shit.”
He snorts. “They’re probably under the mask.”
“That’s on you, then.”
Grinning together, we tumble onto the bed where the new box of condoms and lube are waiting. However, when I push my slicked-up fingers inside him, I find he’s already prepped for me.
His wicked grin says it all. “You do this on the plane?” I tease as I stretch him for me.
“Yes,” he answers. “Tiny space. I’m still working out how people hook up in those small spaces. I’m afraid to touch anything. I can’t imagine putting my bare ass on the tiny sink that’s not big enough to hold my balls.”
I laugh as I roll the condom on. “Oh my god, the visual.”
He grins, watching me as I coat my cock. I wipe my hand on the towel-bedding and then hover over him, my hands on either side of his shoulders. He runs his palms down my chest and stomach, digging his fingers into my muscles as I toy with my cockhead through his crack.
“I can’t wait to make memories here with you,” Jude says.
Emotion makes me unable to swallow around the lump in my throat. I nod and feel a little pathetic with the moisture in my eyes.
Jude grips the back of my head, pulling me down so our mouths can come together. I wrap around him, and the next time my cock teasing his crack gets hung up on his hole, I push inside him. He groans into my mouth, his legs wrapping around my waist.
But his hand remains on the back of my head, gripping my hair, keeping me right where he wants me. Possessive. Jude Vincent is always possessive of me. It’s right where I want to stay.