MAX
The plane was loud, like a locker room after a win.
The boys were wired, loud as hell, and no one stayed in their seats for long.
Flight attendants did their best to get us to behave, but good luck with that – we’d already secured our spot after the last few games.
We were going to the playoffs. Once everyone buckled in, the noise didn’t stop; it just shifted to shouting across aisles.
Will sat down next to me and scrolled through his playlist with his headphones hanging loosely around his neck. I barely noticed; I was too busy texting Emma.
Me: I’m on my way back. The week on the road is finally over.
She replied with a meme of a dog sitting by a window and looking dramatically for his owner to come home.
I snorted out loud, drawing a look from Will.
“How’s the beautiful Emma?” he asked, leaning over just enough to peek at my screen.
“She’s great,” and smiled before I could stop it.
He raised an eyebrow. “And how’s it going with you two?”
I leaned my head back against the seat, my mind drifting to the last time I had seen her, remembering the way she laughed and looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. “Perfect,” I said, and I meant it.
Will whistled softly. “Wow. That’s a big word.”
“I know,” I said. “But I’m also scared as fuck.”
“Why?”
I shrugged and kept my eyes on the ceiling. “Because I can see it coming, man. The end. But I can’t seem to put the brakes on. She’s… she’s worth the risk, even if it hurts like hell later.”
Will leaned back. “Yeah. I get it. Better to regret what you did than sit around scared of what might happen. That’s why I try everything at least once. Keep going, no matter the setbacks.”
“That does sound like you. Just slow down once in a while, bud. You don’t have to race through the good stuff.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
After that, he put on his headphones and no doubt scrolled to something upbeat. I put my phone face down on the tray, closed my eyes, and let the sound of the plane fade into the background.
* * *
The door opened and there she was, all wrapped up in a blanket like a grumpy but cute burrito.
Her hair was a little messy, her cheeks pink and she was giving me the biggest damn smile.
I didn’t even think about it. I just stepped forward, wrapped my arms around her waist, and lifted her right off the ground.
I whispered, “Hi, baby,” against her lips and kissed her before putting her down again.
She laughed, moved back to the couch, and flopped onto a nest of blankets with papers spread everywhere. Notes, drafts and sticky tabs, her usual battlefield.
“Jesus, Em,” I muttered. “It’s cold in here.”
“I know,” she said with a little shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal.
“The heating went out yesterday. The landlord was no help, because apparently he’s on some Caribbean cruise for the next couple of weeks.
So I’ve been on the phone all morning, but the earliest they can get someone here is Tuesday.
” She pointed to the couch like it explained everything. “Hence the mountain of blankets.”
I stared at her. “So your solution is to freeze to death?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not that bad anymore outside. Plus…” she held up her mug like it was a prize, “I’ve got tea. And a hot water bottle.”
“That’s it,” I said, already shaking my head. “Pack your stuff. You’re coming home with me.”
“Max,” she said in that patient-teacher voice, “I’m fine.”
“No, Em.” I pointed to the pile of blankets. “You’re not fine. You’re nesting like a penguin trying to survive the Arctic. I’m not leaving you.”
She just stared at me. Long enough that I started to wonder if she’d dig her heels in. Then she sighed, pushed her hair back, and said, “Okay. But I’m bringing tea and biscuits. Because I need those to survive, and you probably don’t have anything sugary in your house.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face, fighting a smile. That stubborn woman. To be honest, she probably would have frozen in here just to prove she could if I hadn’t shown up.
She went upstairs, and I picked up her notes and stacked them into a pile so they wouldn’t get mixed up. I could hear her footsteps overhead, a soft creak and the faint rustle of drawers.
A couple of minutes later, she came back down with a bag. I slung it over my shoulder automatically, but she stopped halfway to the door.
“Wait.”
She darted into the kitchen and came back with a box of tea, a travel mug and a tin of cookies, as if they were non-negotiable.
“I have cookies at home, Em,” I said, already laughing.
“Chocolate ones?” she asked, sounding innocent.
I opened my mouth. “Well, no, but…”
“I’m bringing mine then,” she said firmly, brushing past me with her loot.
I couldn’t help but smile at her. My hand went to her face, thumb brushing her cheek as I kissed her – deep, unhurried, the kind of kiss that said I didn’t give a damn about tea, cookies, or that stubborn streak that could level a city block.
When I pulled back, she gave me that look that always undid me: soft and warm in a way that went straight to my heart.
“Come on,” I said, taking her hand and tugging her toward the door. “Let’s get you thawed out.”
I led her to my car, her bag over my shoulder, her fingers laced tightly with mine.
* * *
The drive was short, but I kept the heater on full blast. Emma was sitting sideways in the passenger seat with a blanket around her shoulders and the travel mug. She looked smug as hell about it.
“See?” she said, raising it in a small toast. “Already worth it.”
I shook my head, grinning at the road. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” she said lightly, “you still showed up on my doorstep.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, because she wasn’t wrong.
By the time we pulled into my driveway, the night had that sharp bite to it that seeps straight through your jacket.
I jogged around to get her bag before she could argue, then got her inside as fast as I could, out of the wind and into the heat.
Warm air hit us immediately. I’d left the thermostat up when I left on the road trip, just in case, and thank God I had.
Emma stood in the entryway, taking it in. Her shoulders dropped as the warmth sank into her. She unwound her scarf and glanced back at me with a little smile. “Fine. This is better.”
“Told you,” I said, dropping her bag by the stairs. “Blanket mountain is retired.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be so sure. Your blanket selection is pitiful compared to mine.”
I ignored that and went into autopilot: I hung up my coat, turned on the lights, and filled the kettle. When I looked back, she was standing in the living room, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater, still deciding where to sit.
“Plant yourself,” I said, pointing at the couch.
She arched an eyebrow. “Bossy.”
“Yeah, well, I’m making you tea and turning up the heat. You’re not lifting a finger tonight.”
That earned me a little smile. She dropped onto the couch, curled up, and pulled the blanket tighter around her.
By the time I brought the mugs in, she’d already arranged herself with a throw pillow and looked very much like she intended to claim the place as her own.
“You’re not going back to that freezer until the heating’s fixed,” I told her, handing her a mug.
She smiled over the rim of the mug, blowing across the surface. “So protective.”
“Damn right,” I said, sitting down next to her. “You would have stayed there, wouldn’t you? Wrapped up like an ice cube until Tuesday.”
Her laugh was soft. “Maybe.” She sipped, then gave me a look over the rim of the cup. “You worry too much.”
“Not enough,” I said, and before she could argue, I leaned in and kissed her temple.
She sighed and rested her head against my shoulder. And just like that, with tea in her hands, the house warm around us, and her steady breathing, I finally relaxed.