Chapter 16
AUSTIN
Iwoke before my alarm, the early morning light filtering through the blinds I’d forgotten to close last night. For someone who craved routine and order in every aspect
of my life, this small oversight would normally bother me. But as I turned my head to look at Kate sprawled beside me, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
She slept with the same chaotic energy that defined her waking hours—limbs flung across my previously sacred side of the bed, her wild auburn hair splayed across both our pillows, one leg hooked over mine as if to keep me from escaping.
On the nightstand that had once held nothing but my phone, alarm clock, and a glass of water, now sat three science journals, a half-empty mug of yesterday’s coffee, and what appeared to be handwritten notes on bacterial something-or-other.
Six weeks ago, this invasion would have driven me insane. Now I found myself smiling at the coffee ring on my pristine nightstand.
Kate’s breathing changed slightly, and I watched as those bright green eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus on me.
“You’re staring,” she mumbled, her voice husky with sleep. “It’s creepy.”
“It’s my bed,” I countered. “I can stare if I want to.”
“Our bed,” she corrected, stretching like a cat, her body arching in a way that made my mouth go dry. “Temporary joint custody, remember?”
I reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ve colonized it like one of your bacteria.”
She grinned, eyes still heavy-lidded. “Bacterial colonization is actually a complex process involving adhesion, multiplication, and biofilm formation. Though I suppose there have been plenty of bodily fluids involved, so the analogy isn’t completely inaccurate.”
“And there’s the science talk before coffee,” I groaned, but couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
We lay there in comfortable silence, neither of us rushing to start the day.
Kate’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my chest, and I realized with startling clarity how much I would miss this when I returned to the team’s travel schedule.
The thought of waking up alone in generic hotel rooms across the country suddenly seemed bleaker than it ever had before.
“What are you thinking about?” Kate asked, her eyes now fully alert and studying my face with that scientific precision I’d grown to love. “You’ve got that little crease between your eyebrows.”
“Travel schedule,” I admitted. “Once I’m back on the active roster.”
“Hmm.” She propped herself up on one elbow. “I’ve been thinking about that too. Did you know I can track bacterial growth remotely? With the right equipment, I could monitor experiments from anywhere.”
“Are you saying you could bring your lab bacteria on road trips?”
“God no. The TSA would have a complete meltdown.” She laughed. “But I could potentially work remotely for short periods. Not all the time, but maybe for longer road trips.”
The fact that she’d been thinking about ways to spend more time with me made something warm bloom in my chest.
“I’d like that,” I said, pulling her closer.
“But first, coffee,” she declared, rolling out of bed and pulling on my discarded t-shirt from yesterday. It hung to mid-thigh on her smaller frame, and the sight of her in my clothes did something primitive to my insides.
“Coffee can wait,” I suggested, reaching for her.
Kate danced away with a laugh. “Absolutely not. I have a breakthrough percolating in my brain, and I need caffeine to catalyze it.”
“You and your science metaphors,” I grumbled, throwing back the covers and pulling on a pair of sweatpants.
In the kitchen, Kate moved with surprising efficiency, having memorized my coffee routine despite her general chaos.
I leaned against the counter watching her, struck by how seamlessly she’d integrated herself into my space.
My precisely organized kitchen now had a “Kate corner” where her special bacteria-themed mug and collection of exotic teas lived.
Somehow, I’d even started buying the specific brand of granola she liked.
“What?” she asked, catching me staring again as she handed me my coffee.
“Nothing,” I said, taking a sip. Perfect, exactly how I liked it.
We settled at the kitchen island, Kate perched on a stool with her legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through email on her phone while I started making eggs and toast. The domesticity of it all was both foreign and frighteningly comfortable.
“So,” I started, my heart suddenly racing faster than during playoff overtime, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous,” she quipped without looking up from her phone.
“I’m serious, Kate.”
Something in my tone must have caught her attention because she set her phone down immediately, her eyes finding mine.
“What is it?” she asked, concern coloring her voice.
I took a deep breath. I’d faced 250-pound defensemen intent on separating me from consciousness with less anxiety than I felt in this moment.
“I’m falling in love with you,” I blurted out, the words tumbling from my mouth without the finesse I’d planned.
“It’s like...fuck, this is going to sound stupid, but it’s like you’re a power play in my life.
When we’re together, everything works better, even though you break all my systems and routines.
And when we’re apart, it’s like I’m on a penalty kill, just trying to survive until you’re back. ”
I ran a hand through my hair, painfully aware of how ridiculous I sounded. “That made no sense. Just forget I—”
Kate stared at me, her expression unreadable for one terrifying moment. Then she burst out laughing.
My stomach dropped. “Right. Forget I said anything.”
“No!” She slid off her stool and came around the island, still laughing as she grabbed my face between her hands. “Austin, you wonderful, ridiculous man. I’m laughing because you just compared your feelings for me to hockey special teams.”
“It was a stupid analogy,” I muttered, embarrassment heating my face.
“It was perfect,” she corrected, rising on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine. “And for the record, I’m falling in love with you, too, even if your declaration needs significant peer review for clarity.”
Relief and happiness surged through me as I lifted her onto the counter, stepping between her legs and kissing her deeply. Her arms wound around my neck, legs wrapping around my waist as she pulled me closer.
“Say it again,” I murmured against her lips.
“I’m falling in love with you,” she whispered, sending a thrill through my entire body. “Even though you alphabetize your protein powders and schedule your laundry on a rotating color-coded system.”
I laughed against her mouth. “I’m falling in love with you even though you name your bacteria cultures and talk about enzyme kinetics during sex.”
“I did that once!” she protested, pulling back slightly, her cheeks flushed.
“Once was memorable enough,” I teased, tucking her hair behind her ear.
My phone rang from the bedroom, interrupting our moment. I groaned, pressing my forehead against hers.
“Ignore it,” Kate suggested, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck.
“Might be the team.” I sighed, reluctantly pulling away.
I jogged to the bedroom and grabbed my phone, my good mood faltering when I saw the caller ID: Dad.
I hesitated for a moment before answering, steeling myself for whatever critical assessment was about to come my way.
“Hello, Dad,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.
“Austin.” My father’s clipped tone held no warmth. “I’ve been reading about your return to the lineup. Tomorrow night’s game?”
Of course, he’d start with hockey. Not ‘How’s your recovery?’ or ‘How are you feeling?’ Just straight to performance expectations.
“That’s right,” I confirmed. “Doctor cleared me last week. Coach wants me on the second pairing to start, ease back into things.”
“Second pairing?” His disapproval was immediate. “You should be pushing for first. Show them you’re not damaged goods.”
I gritted my teeth, an automatic response developed over decades of these conversations. “It’s the smart play, Dad. Better to build back gradually than risk re-injury.”
Kate appeared in the doorway, concern evident in her expression. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but from the way her eyes narrowed, I knew I’d failed.
“Your mother tells me you’re seeing someone,” my father continued, changing topics with the abruptness I’d come to expect. “A scientist?”
I raised my eyebrows at Kate, who shrugged innocently. Clearly my mother had been more successful getting information from her than I realized.
“Yes,” I said, suddenly protective of what Kate and I had built. “Her name is Kate. She’s a microbiologist.”
“Hm.” The single syllable carried a lifetime of judgment. “I’d like to meet her. Dinner tonight before your game tomorrow.”
It wasn’t a request.
“Dad, I don’t think—”
“Seven o’clock. The Capital Grille downtown. I’ve already made reservations.”
Before I could protest further, he added, “I want to see for myself if she’s going to be a distraction during your comeback.”
I closed my eyes, counting to five silently. “Kate isn’t a distraction.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Seven o’clock.”
The line went dead before I could respond. I lowered the phone, fighting the familiar frustration that always followed conversations with my father.
“I’m guessing that wasn’t a ‘congratulations on your recovery’ call,” Kate said, crossing the room to stand in front of me.
“My father wants to meet you.” I tossed my phone onto the bed. “Tonight. He’s concerned you might be a ‘distraction’ during my comeback.”
Kate raised her eyebrows. “Wow. He sounds...intense.”
“That’s one word for it,” I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. “We don’t have to go. I can call him back and cancel.”
“Is that what you want?” she asked, studying me with that careful scientist’s gaze that always made me feel like she could see more than I wanted her to.