22. Dax
DAX
I 'm staring at a contract that could change everything, and all I can think about is how Tessa looks when she's deep in thought—that little wrinkle between her eyebrows, the way she chews her bottom lip, how her hazel eyes shift from green to gold when she's weighing impossible decisions.
"This is insane," she says, flipping through the publisher's proposal for the third time. "They want to pay us how much to write about fighting discrimination in professional sports?"
"Enough to tell Harrison and every other asshole like him to go fuck themselves for the rest of our lives," I reply, settling beside her on my couch.
The afternoon light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches the auburn highlights in her hair, and I have to resist the urge to tangle my fingers in it and forget about book deals entirely.
"But a year-long media campaign? Book tours?
Television interviews?" She sets the contract down and turns to face me.
"Dax, we'd be the poster couple for workplace romance.
Every relationship milestone, every fight, every time we so much as breathe wrong—it'll all be scrutinized by people who think they own our story. "
"Or we could help other people going through the same shit we did.
Change policies. Make it so the next brilliant woman who falls for her colleague doesn't have to choose between love and career.
" I catch her hand, threading our fingers together.
"Besides, when has media attention ever stopped you from being incredible at your job? "
"That's different. That was about surviving. This would be about thriving while the entire world watches."
My phone buzzes with a text from Jamie:
Team meeting in ten. Book stuff. Everyone's got opinions.
"Speaking of the world watching," I show her the message. "Apparently the guys have thoughts about our literary aspirations."
Twenty minutes later, we're sitting in the players' lounge surrounded by thirty grown men who are way too invested in our relationship decisions. Jamie's appointed himself spokesperson, naturally, bouncing on his heels like a puppy who just discovered espresso.
"Okay, so here's the thing," he starts, gesturing wildly with a protein bar. "You two have already created change just by existing and being fucking amazing at your jobs. But this book thing? This could help people we'll never even meet."
"Plus," Cole adds from his spot near the window, "you'd be rich as hell. Like, stupid rich. Buy-your-own-team rich."
"Money isn't everything," I counter, though the financial security would be nice. "It's about whether we want our personal lives permanently in the spotlight."
"Dude," Chase leans forward, suddenly serious. "Remember what you told me when I was struggling? You said sometimes standing up for what's right is more important than being comfortable."
Alexei nods from his corner. "Good stories help many people. You have good story."
"What about the timeline?" Tessa asks. "They want to start interviews and research immediately. We're heading into playoffs, and?—"
"And you'll handle it like you handle everything else," Martinez interrupts from the doorway. "Together, with about ten times more competence than anyone expects."
"Coach," I stand up. "What's your take on this whole clusterfuck?"
"My take is that leadership extends beyond the ice and beyond this season," he settles into a chair with a grunt.
"Your experience could prevent other people from going through the discrimination bullshit you faced.
But—" he holds up a hand when Jamie starts to interrupt, "—current season is priority. Book stuff happens in the off-season."
"The publisher wants to move fast," Tessa says, reviewing her notes from the call.
"Research and interviews starting immediately, first draft in six months, publication within a year to capitalize on the current media attention.
""So what's really holding you back?" Jamie asks, cutting straight to the heart of it like he always does.
Tessa and I exchange a look. The truth is, we've handled everything else together—Harrison's harassment, media exposure, career threats, family drama. But there's something different about permanently putting our relationship on display, even for a good cause.
"It's one thing to fight for our right to be together," Tessa says quietly. "It's another to turn our love story into public property."
"But it's already public property," Cole points out. "The media's going to analyze and speculate whether you write a book or not. At least this way, you control the narrative."
"And you get paid obscene amounts of money to tell Harrison to eat shit," Jamie adds helpfully. "Which, let's be honest, is kind of the dream."
I look around the room at these guys who've had our backs through everything, who went to war for us when Harrison tried to destroy our careers.
They're right, and I know it. We're already poster children for workplace romance scandals.
Might as well use the platform to help people instead of merely enduring the scrutiny.
"There's something else," Martinez says, checking his phone. "Just got word about playoff matchups. We made it in, boys."
The room erupts in cheers and chest bumps, but Martinez isn't done.
"First round opponent is Boston."
The celebration dies immediately. Every eye in the room turns to me, and I feel Tessa's hand tighten in mine.
"Boston," I repeat, my voice flat. "The team I turned down. Twice."
"The team whose GM personally called to sweeten their offer," Tessa adds. "This is going to be a media circus."
"It's going to be a bloodbath," Jamie whistles low. "They're going to paint this as the ultimate revenge narrative. Rejected lover versus the one who got away."
"Except I didn't get away," I say firmly. "I chose exactly where I wanted to be."
"Still," Chase shakes his head. "National television, sports media going crazy, your personal life dissected by every talking head with an opinion about hockey romance..."
"Sounds like the perfect time to announce a book deal," Cole grins. "Control the narrative before it controls you."
Martinez stands up, his expression serious.
"Whatever you two decide about the book, you decide together.
But I need to know your heads are in the game for these playoffs.
Because facing Boston is going to be emotional as hell, and I can't have my captain distracted by what-if scenarios and media bullshit. "
"My head's exactly where it needs to be," I stand up, pulling Tessa with me. "Right here, with this team, with this woman, ready to show Boston exactly what they missed out on."
The guys cheer again, but I'm focused on Tessa's face. She's got that look—the one that means she's made a decision and it's probably going to change everything.
"Let's do it," she says quietly, but her voice carries in the suddenly silent room. "The book deal. All of it."
"You sure?" I ask, searching her eyes.
"I'm sure. If we're going to be the public face of workplace relationships anyway, let's make damn sure we're holding the right poster."
The team explodes in cheers again, but all I can focus on is the way Tessa's eyes have gone gold with determination. Fuck, I love this woman. Her strength, her courage, the way she faces impossible decisions and somehow makes them look easy.
"Alright, you beautiful bastards," I address the room, "we've got a first-round series to prepare for and a book deal to finalize. Let's go make some history."
As the guys file out, Jamie grabs my arm. "For what it's worth, I think you're making the right call. Both calls. Boston's going to regret letting you slip away."
"Boston never had me to begin with," I reply, pulling Tessa closer. "I was always meant to be here."
An hour later, we're back in my apartment, the signed book contract on my kitchen counter and the weight of our decision settling between us like electricity before a storm.
"So we're really doing this," Tessa says, pouring herself a glass of wine with hands that are steadier than mine feel. "Book deal, media circus, telling our story to the entire world."
"Having second thoughts?" I ask, moving behind her to wrap my arms around her waist. She melts back against my chest, and I bury my face in the curve of her neck, breathing in that vanilla and coffee scent that's become my definition of home.
"Third and fourth thoughts. But not changing my mind.
" She turns in my arms, setting her wine aside.
"I keep thinking about all the women who'll read our story and realize they are dealing with workplace bias and will see that competence and personal happiness aren't mutually exclusive.
"And all the dickhead managers who'll think twice before pulling another Harrison," I add, my hands sliding down to grip her hips.
"Plus, the advance means I can tell any GM who tries to control my personal life to go fuck himself. "
She laughs, that throaty sound that goes straight to my cock. "Very romantic. You should definitely include that in the acknowledgments."
"I'll put it right after the dedication. 'To Tessa, who makes me want to burn down the patriarchy and build something better in its place.'"
"God, you're such a book boyfriend," she breathes, her hands sliding up my chest. "Reading philosophy, fighting discrimination, making declarations that would make romance novelists weep with envy."
"Is that what I am? Your book boyfriend?" I back her toward the living room, toward those floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city where we fell in love and fought for our right to stay that way.
"You're my everything," she whispers, and the simple honesty of it hits me like a check to the chest. "My book boyfriend, my real boyfriend, my accidental husband, my partner in all the best kinds of crime."