FORTY-THREE
HAYDEN
HAFNARFJ?RDUR, ICELAND
MARCH
"I've already picked up three candy wrappers," Emerald grumbles. She bends for another piece of trash, eyes frustrated, jaw tight, muttering about rude tourists and leaving places better than you found them.
I snort affectionately at my wife, warmth rising in my chest.
With gentle steps, she nears the small elf house—adorable, just as she said. It's dollhouse-sized, painted red with tiny doors and windows. I breathe in the crisp Icelandic air, heart fluttering as I recall how it all began with a silly hockey movie.
Guess I do have hockey to thank for a lot of good things in my life.
The beautiful brunette taking pictures of elf houses and speaking softly like there are actual creatures inside that she doesn't want to disturb is right at the top of that list.
"I can't believe we're here," she beams at me over her shoulder.
"I told you I would take you," I grin. "I'm just sorry it took so long."
"I think the timing was just right," Emerald shrugs easily, turning back to the houses.
For Emerald's Christmas gift, and to truly mark the end of the trial, we're spending two weeks in Iceland. Four days in, her joyful energy is infectious; she glows with the happiness I've missed seeing for so long.
Yesterday, we went to the lagoon, where I held my wife in the hot springs, smeared face masks on her cheeks, and kissed her as she giggled against my mouth.
Our first night here, we watched the northern lights dance across the sky, though I had a hard time tearing my gaze from the look of wonder on my wife's face.
Infinitely more beautiful to me.
When she's done taking photos, Emerald gingerly kneels on the ground and closes her eyes.
A bright smile slowly spreads across her lips.
I step closer, keeping my footsteps light so I don't disturb her.
"Are you wishing?" I whisper.
"Yes," she whispers back, keeping her eyes closed, her brows pulled together in concentration.
"What are you wishing for?"
"I can't tell you," she singsongs. "It won't come true."
I chuckle. "Is that the official rule with the elves?"
"I don't know, but that's how it works with all wishes, so I'm just playing it safe."
Deciding it can't hurt, I close my eyes and make my own wish.
Not words. More like an image.
I picture Emerald, her baby-blue nails and wedding set glinting as she gently holds her pregnant belly.
I wish...
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
When I pull it out, I see that it's Frank calling me, my old teammate and captain from the Tornadoes .
I haven't seen him since the funeral, when he and Victoria surprised us.
Frank has always felt like a big brother to me—someone I looked up to, someone I loved playing under.
Victoria had wrapped Emerald in a tight hug while their daughter, about Christopher's age, copied her mom and hugged Emerald's leg.
From there, Frank and Jace got to know each other.
After Rick was convicted of my father's murder, he was extradited to Boston to face his charges there. He was already sentenced to life without parole, so he didn't have much choice except to start telling the truth.
That trial cleared up a lot.
The night Emerald was assaulted, Rick told the security guard to walk down the hallway, stare at the wall for thirty seconds, and come back. He never checked on her.
If he had, if he had just glanced out the door, she might not have been attacked.
The hardest thing to swallow was that he really didn't have anything to do with the assault.
He didn't know Doyle personally; only in passing at O'Malleys, which has shut down. Donnelly is now sitting in prison along with many of the men he had inside politics and the police station.
Aisha, Boston's new police captain, says he's not having a great time there since he tried to sell all of his contacts and men down the river for less prison time.
Rick's motive for ruining my marriage was to control me.
He tried to defend The Widower Contingency files as a joke, which neither I nor the jury found funny. The intention was the same either way—how could he market me with Emerald out of the picture?
He never understood that if Emerald were out of the picture, there would be no point anymore.
She's my reason.
That's just something he couldn't understand—my love for Emerald, and Jace's love for Samantha.
And I feel sad for him in a way that he won't ever understand what it feels like.
The most important thing that the trial cleared up was Jace's name, especially after Britney spilled what Rick told her about the Vegas incident over pillow talk. With Rick's credibility destroyed, no one ever found out about Jace's point shaving, and that's a secret I'll take to the grave.
With Jace's reputation healed and the true events of that night in Vegas, Samantha was able to open herself to completely heal their marriage. They've even been talking about moving to Ann Arbor, having fallen in love with the area after the trial.
Christopher, apparently, also wants to spend more time with his Aunt Em and Uncle Hay.
"Hey, old man," I say as I answer, smiling when Frank chuckles. "How are Victoria and the babies?"
Frank's wife, Victoria, is pregnant again. Another girl.
The yearning punches again.
"I'm gonna be overrun by adorable women," Frank says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. "I'm happier than a pig in shit."
"Lucky you," I murmur, watching Emerald open her eyes and meet mine.
Her smile widens, and she blows me a kiss.
I answer with a wink that makes her cheeks color. We should go back to the hotel. And soon.
"Listen," Frank says, clearing his throat, "I know you're on vacation, so I'll keep this brief so you can get back to the missus. But I couldn't wait. I accepted the head coaching job for the Tornadoes."
"No shit?" I laugh, genuinely thrilled for him. "Congratulations, Coach . Much deserved."
"Thank you, but that's not actually why I called." His voice drops, firm in the way it used to be before a big game. "I want you to come play for me."
I blink in stunned silence, my mouth slightly open as I try to process what Frank just said.
That is not what I expected him to say.
At all.
"I..." My voice breaks, and Emerald frowns, stepping closer.
No big decisions. Not without her. This doesn't just affect me.
And after everything that happened, I don't know if she'll want to step back into anything that even resembles that life.
Even if it's Minnesota, it's still chaos. "I need to talk about it with Emerald."
My wife tilts her head in question. "About what?" she mouths, and I give her a shaky, nervous smile, heart pounding so loud I swear she can hear it.
Still, excitement thrums just beneath my skin, impossible to contain.
"No rush," Frank says. "It's not a guaranteed roster spot. You'll be starting at the bottom. Let's see if you can make it through training camp first."
That brings me back down to earth, and I nod. That's fair.
I've been skating at Emerald’s City and working out enough to stay in decent shape, but I'm definitely not in professional shape anymore.
"Got it."
"I want you to know everyone's excited to have you back," Frank says, his voice gentler now. "We missed you, kid. You and Em."
I smile. "I'll let you know what we decide."
"Before you go, can you give me Jace Ward's number?"
My eyes widen. "Are you—"
"Same offer as you."
A grin pulls at my mouth. "I'll send it over."
"Enjoy your vacation, kid. See you soon."
The line clicks dead, and I stare at my phone for a long moment before I look up at Emerald.
"Sweetheart, is everything okay?" she asks, stepping closer.
I nod and take a breath. "That was Frank. He wants me to come play for him. For the Tornadoes again."
Emerald's eyes go wide.
I'm about to tell her that I won't do it, I'll call him back right now and reject the offer, but she just turns to the elf houses and whispers.
"You guys work fast."
I blink.
"What?"
She beams, bouncing on her feet. "That's what I wished for, and the elves listened!" she whips around to the houses. "Thank you!"
My mouth drops open, but no sound comes out.
Will my wife ever stop surprising me?
Emerald laughs and steps right into me, laying her hands on my chest as she shrugs.
"You miss it. I know you do," she murmurs, her hand over my heart as if she can feel it racing for her. My arms go around her waist, pulling her closer. "It wasn't hockey. It was Boston, Rick, and you letting it happen. I know you won’t let it happen again."
"I won't," I vow, voice trembling. I shake my head, my grip tightening. "You come before hockey—before everything —no matter what."
She searches my face for a long moment.
Then she nods.
"Okay."
I smile. "Okay."
"So..." She pokes my chest. "Call him back."
I shake my head.
"Nope, I'll call him tomorrow," I say, bending down to lift my wife and spin her around. She giggles, and I kiss her smiling mouth. "Today is all about us."
"Thank you for asking me first," she whispers, resting her forehead against mine.
I hold her tighter, gratitude and love overwhelming me.
"Thank you for always believing in me."