41. EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE
THEO
Inudge the door open with my shoulder, balancing the takeout in both hands, and kick it shut behind me before dumping my keys onto the table.
“Honey, I’m home,” I call, snorting quietly at myself as I head further inside. “Connor?”
Nothing.
I stop, listening, because the house definitely isn’t quiet. Some generic pop song is playing from the kitchen, tinny through what sounds like Connor’s phone speaker, and I roll my eyes as I follow it down the hall.
Of course.
I make it as far as the doorway before I stop again.
Connor has his back to me, moving between the counter and the sink, completely fucking oblivious to the fact that I’m standing there.
There’s this soft sway to his hips that I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even realise he’s doing, his head moving slightly with the beat as he reaches for something on the counter.
A smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it.
Fuck.
There’s something stupidly domestic about it. Connor in the kitchen. Music playing. Me standing here with dinner like this is just what we fucking do now.
The thought lands somewhere warm beneath my ribs, and I don’t let myself look at it too closely.
Instead, I cross the kitchen and dump the takeout onto the island before slipping up behind him, sliding my hands around his waist.
Connor fucking jumps.
A sharp little sound tears out of him as his whole body jerks beneath my hands, and I immediately lose it, laughing as I spin him around.
His eyes narrow.
“You scared the shit out of me, asshole.”
He shoves my shoulder, hard enough to rock me back slightly, then does it again like the first one wasn’t enough.
I press a hand dramatically to my chest. “How dare I?”
The grin pulling at my mouth probably ruins it.
“I’ll get you back for that,” he warns.
“Yeah?”
Connor steps into me.
I let him push me back, one step and then another until the edge of the island presses into my lower back, and my smile only gets wider when I look down at him.
There’s still annoyance pinching his face, but I know him well enough now to see what’s underneath it.
My gaze drops to his mouth.
“I’m shaking, princess.”
There it is.
Something flashes across Connor’s face, his eyes darkening as the annoyance burns straight into something else, and the low growl that rips out of him sends heat curling through my stomach before I even realise he’s moved.
His hands drop beneath my thighs.
“Con—”
The rest turns into a startled breath when he lifts me straight off my feet.
My hands grab his shoulders on instinct, legs coming around his waist as he carries me the half-step forward and drops me onto the counter. The cold surface presses through my jeans, but I barely notice it with Connor standing between my legs, his hands still wrapped around my thighs.
Jesus.
I don’t think I’m ever getting used to him doing shit like that.
“God, I hate you,” he mutters.
There’s a laugh caught underneath it, breathless and warm, and I grin as I hook my ankles behind him.
“Sure you do.”
His mouth crashes into mine before I can say anything else.
A groan works its way up my throat as I kiss him back immediately, my hands sliding into his hair and pulling him closer.
Connor comes without any resistance, pressing into the space between my legs until there’s barely any room left between us, his mouth opening beneath mine when I deepen the kiss.
Fuck, I missed this.
It’s been a few hours. Pathetic.
I don’t give a shit.
My fingers tighten in his hair as his tongue slides against mine, catching briefly against the metal of my piercing, and I drag him closer even though there’s nowhere left for him to fucking go.
The music is still playing somewhere behind us, but I barely hear it anymore. All I can feel is Connor’s body pressed into mine, the warmth of his hands sliding up my thighs, his mouth moving against mine like he hasn’t seen me in weeks instead of since this morning.
“Seriously?”
Marcus’s voice cuts through the kitchen.
I groan straight into Connor’s mouth.
“You knew I was coming,” Marcus growls, and a hand shoves between my shoulder blades, forcing me forward into Connor.
Connor laughs against my lips.
Fucking laughs.
He doesn’t pull away immediately either, which makes something stupidly pleased settle in my chest. Instead, he steals one last kiss before finally drawing back, catching my bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a soft tug on the way.
My eyes stay on his for another second.
“Asshole,” I mutter, though I’m not entirely sure which Reid I’m talking to.
Connor’s mouth twitches.
I finally drag my gaze towards Marcus and narrow my eyes at him, but I don’t bother moving. My arms stay looped loosely around Connor’s shoulders, keeping him exactly where he is between my legs, and Connor makes absolutely no attempt to go anywhere either.
He just settles against me like he belongs there.
And fuck if that doesn’t still do something to me.
“Knowing and caring are two very different things, Reid.” I shrug, dropping my head to press a kiss into the top of Connor’s hair.
He still smells like whatever shampoo he used this morning, clean and faintly sweet beneath the warmth of his skin, and I breathe him in before I can stop myself, my mouth lingering against his hair.
Marcus makes a disgusted sound.
I glance over to find him looking between us like we’ve personally offended him, his lip curled as he drags a hand down his face.
“You two are seriously disgusting,” he mutters. “Have you even got the game set up yet?”
“I literally just got in,” I shoot back, rolling my eyes.
Marcus doesn’t even bother answering. He turns and heads for the living room like I haven’t spoken, already muttering under his breath about the remote.
“Yeah, alright, asshole,” I call after him.
His pacing starts almost immediately, footsteps carrying through from the living room as he apparently tears the place apart looking for something that’s probably right in front of his fucking face.
I huff and slide off the counter, whatever irritation I had disappearing the second my attention drops back to Connor.
My hand trails down his back as I go, slow and absent, and Connor hums softly, turning into me rather than stepping away.
That gets my attention.
His eyes drop to my mouth.
Then lower.
I follow his gaze, watching it drag over the front of my t-shirt before lifting one brow.
Interesting.
“How important is this game?” he murmurs.
I grin.
He’s close enough that his breath brushes warm over my lips, and I lean in before I can help myself, catching his mouth in another kiss. It’s barely anything, just enough to feel him soften into it, his fingers curling into the front of my shirt as I pull away.
Connor’s eyes open.
Fuck.
Big and blue and already looking at me like he’s considering whether hockey is really worth leaving the kitchen for.
I almost tell Marcus to fuck off.
Almost.
“Very,” I murmur.
Connor lets out the longest, most put-upon sigh I’ve ever heard.
“Fucking hockey.”
I laugh under my breath. “You love it really.”
“I really fucking don’t.”
His fingers loosen from my shirt and slide down until they find mine anyway, threading between them like he doesn’t even have to think about it anymore.
I look down.
Still catches me sometimes.
That easy way he touches me now. No panic after. No looking around to see who noticed. He just takes my fucking hand because he wants it.
“Come on then,” Connor says, tugging me after him.
I go without arguing, brushing my thumb over his knuckles as we head into the living room.
Marcus is pacing in front of the TV with the remote clenched in one hand, looking about five seconds away from throwing it through the screen.
“Are you hearing this shit?” he demands.
“Hello to you too.”
I drop onto the sofa and tug Connor down with me before he can take the empty space beside me. He comes easily, folding into my side, and I hook an arm around him, pulling him closer until his weight settles warm against my ribs.
“What?” I ask, looking up at Marcus as my thumb starts moving absently over Connor’s arm.
Marcus turns the volume up instead of answering.
The commentator’s voice fills the room.
“—Former NHL star Kayson Hayde officially announced his retirement this morning following complications with the hip injury that ended his season. Sources say several college programs have already reached out—”
“Shit.”
I sit up slightly, dragging my hand over my mouth as the footage cuts to Hayde on the screen.
“Hayde’s out.” I shake my head. “That’s rough.”
I knew the injury was bad. Everyone did. But there’s a difference between missing a season and having the entire fucking thing ripped out from underneath you.
Connor shifts against me, twisting until he can look up at my face.
“Isn’t he the one that got into a fight with that guy over a rookie?”
Marcus scoffs as he drops onto the opposite sofa and cracks open his beer.
“Try three guys.”
Connor’s entire face changes.
His eyes light up as he turns towards Marcus. “He’s the one you had all over your wall.”
The accusation in his voice fucking gets me.
A laugh bursts out before I can stop it, and I press my lips together, trying to smother it when Marcus glares at me.
“Oh, fuck off.”
“No, no.” I hold a hand up, still laughing. “This is good.”
“It was one poster.”
Connor gives him a look. “It was not one poster.”
I choke on another laugh, and Marcus points his beer at both of us.
“You two can leave.”
“It’s my house, dickhead.”
“Well, maybe he’s someone you’d actually listen to,” I add, nudging Connor lightly before looking back at Marcus. “You know, now that you’ve run off our third coach in, what?”
I lift my hand, pretending to count.
“A month?”
Marcus flips me off.
“There he is.”
He takes a long pull from his beer before dropping it onto the coffee table with a dull thud.
Connor goes rigid beside me.
It’s barely anything. A small tightening through his shoulders, the weight of him changing against my side, but I feel it immediately.
My hand moves before I even think about it, sliding from his arm to his back and smoothing slowly down his spine.
Once.
Again.
Connor’s shoulders loosen beneath my palm.
“Use a coaster, will you?” I mutter, reaching forward with my free hand and flicking one across the table towards Marcus.
He stares at it.
Then at me.
His eyes narrow.
“Oh, fuck off. Just use it.”
Marcus rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t disappear into his skull, but he drags the coaster underneath his beer anyway.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “He’s even got you housebroken.”
I glance down at Connor tucked against my side, then back at Marcus.
“Worth it.”