Chapter Twenty-Seven
DELILAH
After everything that’s happened today, it feels…nice. Lying here in my bed with Ian, his head on my chest as my fingers card through the thick, red strands of his hair. His arms are wound around my waist, tucked underneath me as his big body rests over mine, and I can feel the scratch of his beard against my collarbone, the tickle of his nose at my throat.
He’s spent the last hour telling me all about his visit with his mother, and I was happy to let him talk through it, to just be here for him while he processes. It was clear to me from the moment he arrived that it was what he needed most, just someone to listen and assure him that it would all be okay. I’m realizing that this is something Ian has been sorely lacking in his life for a long time, and I’m perfectly content to fill that void for the foreseeable future.
“Can we just…never leave this bed?” he mumbles into my skin, breaking the comfortable silence we’ve been basking in.
I chuckle softly. “It’s been a very long day.”
“It has,” he hums.
“How was Abby when you took her home?”
He nuzzles my chest, exhaling slowly. “I think she’ll be okay. Eventually. I told her I would check on her tomorrow.”
“I can come with you, if you want,” I offer.
His lips feather against my shoulder. “I always want.”
“How much shit did Jack give you when you told him you were staying over at my place?”
“He sort of just made a grunting sound and started cleaning the countertops.”
“He’ll get over it,” I laugh. “He’s not actually put out, but he wouldn’t be Jack if he didn’t give us a little shit for it.”
“I can handle it,” Ian says, pressing slow kisses up the curve of my throat. “I was yours first, remember?”
My lips curl. “You were.”
“I haven’t told you,” he says, pulling back to look at me, the wispy gray of his eyes looking so soft as they peer up at me. “But thank you. For being there today. I know it had to be a lot for you.”
“I’ll always be there,” I promise. “Wherever you need me to be.”
“Fuck, I love you,” he sighs, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “I love saying that too.”
“I’m happy to hear it as many times as you want to tell me.”
“I love you.” He leans in, his lips skimming my jaw. “I love you.” They slide higher, hovering against my cheekbone. “I love you.” He leaves a soft kiss over my eyelid, trailing lower before his mouth is just a breath away from mine. “I fucking love you, Lila.”
“Teenage me is screaming into her pillow right now,” I chuckle.
I feel his lips tilt against mine. “I can make that a reality for adult you, if you want.”
“Are you sure you’re up for that?” I nip at his bottom lip. “You must be so tired. Probably past your bedtime.”
“Are you seriously making an old joke right now?”
“Does that sound like something I would do?”
His hands skim my waist, his knees pressing into the mattress so that he can curl his body over mine. “You’re being a brat.”
“You like when I’m a brat,” I say sweetly, licking along his lower lip.
“I love when you’re a brat,” he rumbles, his hands falling to the mattress to brace on either side of me. “Because it means I get to spank it out of you.”
I thread my arms around his neck, capturing his mouth fully and letting his tongue dip past my lips to tease mine with a slow, languid kiss that feels as lazy as it is satisfying. Like it doesn’t need to be more. Like just this is enough.
And it is, really. As much as I always want more of Ian—more of his touch, his body, his heart—little moments like this are quickly becoming my favorite. Moments when the boy who started as my friend and my safe place becomes the man who’s now my future, my everything. I live for moments like this, and the knowledge that I might get them for the rest of my life is overwhelming, almost too much.
“I love you too,” I murmur into his mouth. “Just in case that wasn’t obvious.”
“Oh, I know. Practically obsessed with me, remember?”
“Completely obsessed,” I answer without a hint of shame. “Just wait until everyone finds out you’re mine. I might put it on a damned billboard. Force you into every kiss cam at every damned game so no one forgets.”
He makes a pained sound. “Anything but that.”
“I’ll think of less embarrassing options,” I laugh. “Maybe.”
He pulls back, grinning boyishly, one red strand of hair falling into his face. “Yeah, let’s pretend like I wouldn’t do absolutely anything you asked me to do.”
“Well.” I push his hair back, tucking it behind his ear. “I was trying to save your dignity.”
He turns his face, reaching to grab my hand as he turns it to press a kiss into my palm. “Don’t need it,” he murmurs. “I’m happy to go half on the billboard.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm. Yeah.” He smiles against my palm, peeking back at me. “Because I want everyone to know you’re mine too.”
The emotion that swells inside me feels too big for my body; it feels like the impossibility of everything you’ve ever wanted but never thought you could have all culminated into one explosive thing that can’t be contained by one person. And maybe that’s why love is better shared, I think idly. Maybe love can only truly be held by two people, because it’s too big for just one.
I pull Ian close, my eyes shiny and wet with happy tears. I hold him against me, the reality that I can do this whenever I want crashing down on me all at once, because he is mine. He really is.
“Well,” I say shakily, “let’s see what we can do about that.”
It’s been a week since the explosive day where all of the secrets Ian’s been clinging to came to light, and the aftermath has been a lot less hard to deal with than we thought it would be. The general consensus of the public has been remorse for the years spent assuming the worst of Ian, many people even commending him for going to such lengths to protect his little sister.
Bradley Chase has been considerably less fortunate with public perception; I would honestly be surprised if he didn’t move out of the city before month’s end, with the way he’s become something of a pariah now that everyone knows exactly what sort of person he is, and I can’t find it in me to dredge up a single ounce of sympathy. It’s not like he’s shown any remorse, after all; the only contact he’s attempted with Ian and Abby in the last week has been just as volatile and nasty as the day we last saw him. Thankfully, neither sibling has seen any reason to give him the time of day.
We decided to wait until after the Druids’ first game to go completely official with our relationship, and sitting here in the crowd during intermission before the final period—after watching Ian play so fantastically with his teammates, looking so at ease and in his element—I think we made the right call. He didn’t need any extra distractions today.
“He’s doing really well,” Abby says from beside me.
It was my idea to invite her along, both of our teams agreeing that a united front was the best way to go forward. Seeing how happy she’s been watching her brother play, I think I made the right call. I had wanted to bring Christine with us as well, but she said she isn’t ready to be out in the public eye yet. I can’t really say that I blame her. Ian and I have been to her house twice this week, and she’s handling it well, all things considered. I can only hope that with time, she’ll be able to find happiness again. She’s too lovely a person not to.
“He was so nervous,” I chuckle. “I thought he was going to throw up last night.”
Abby smiles. “You can’t tell watching him play. Do you think they’ll win?”
“It’s close,” I tell her honestly. “Pittsburgh is a great team, but we’re still two points ahead. I think we have a good chance.”
A small elbow digs into my side as a tiny body squirms on the other side of me, and when I glance down, I catch a pair of wide eyes as the boy sitting next to me says sheepishly, “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Are you having fun?’
I’m rewarded with a toothy grin. “Yeah!”
I lean to glance down the row, noticing that the rest of the kids from St. Michael’s are bouncing with just as much energy as the one beside me. I spot Kyle’s blond curls further down, and when his gaze meets mine, he offers me an enthusiastic wave and an elated smile. My chest warms at the sight of them, even more so with the knowledge that despite everything that’s happened, Ian didn’t forget his promise.
God, I love that man.
“Is your brother always so…” Abby’s voice has me turning toward her, catching the way her head tilts in the direction where Jack is practically yelling through the plexiglass at Sanchez. “He seems very…passionate.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Hockey is his life. It’s killing him that he can’t play today. I imagine the bench-coaching helps him cope.”
“Ah,” she says. “I see.” Her brow furrows, her lips turning down. “What’s he doing now?”
I lean in my seat to catch sight of Jack in skates moving out onto the ice, holding a microphone as he glides to the center of the rink and does a little spin that seems completely inadvisable, considering he’s only got one good arm.
“Hellooo, Boston,” Jack calls, his voice booming through the arena. “Thank you for coming out to watch our boys play today. I know your favorite”—he wiggles his casted arm—“is down for the count right now, but it’s so wonderful that you could show support for the rest of these chuckleheads.”
A low current of laughter sounds throughout the arena, and Jack flashes a bright grin.
“Thankfully, since they knew you would all miss me so much, they let me come out here during intermission to do something fun.” He points his mic to the jumbotron above him before bringing it back to his mouth. “I know, I know, kissing is gross, but sometimes lovebirds like to do it, so we’re happy to indulge them.”
A graphic with animated hearts and lips pressing together in a kiss flash across the jumbotron screen, dissolving in seconds to focus on an elderly couple somewhere in the crowd. The woman’s cheeks pinken as the man beside her bursts into a smile under his grayed mustache, and he turns to give the woman a sweet kiss.
“Wow, gross, love,” Jack comments. He winks at the crowd. “Just kidding. Do we have another one?”
An image of two men sitting together appears on-screen, the taller man’s arm slung affectionately over the back of the other man’s chair as their faces light up. The taller man tugs the smaller one to his side quickly, smacking a kiss on his mouth.
“Disgustingly cute,” Jack sighs. “No, I’m not jealous. Shut up, all of you. Do we have time for one more?”
The laughter on my tongue dies when my own face fills the screen, confusion causing my brow to wrinkle. I turn to Abby, who gives me a head shake and a shrug as she sort of scoots away, and my mouth parts, about to tell my brother off, but he starts talking again.
“Oh no, is that my sister? She looks pretty lonely sitting up there. I know she’s the lesser of the Baker siblings, but come on, surely there’s someone out there who wants to kiss her?”
A tap on my shoulder has me jolting, and suddenly Ian is plopping down in the seat beside me, still wearing his full gear save for his helmet and skates. His hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his temples, but his smile is bright, his freckles more prominent on his flushed face as he settles close.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Putting up my billboard.”
“You hate these things,” I remind him.
“Yeah,” he says, reaching out to cup my cheek. “But I love you.”
He leans in, his kiss soft but lingering, making my chest flutter and my eyes drift closed as I lean into it. The roar of the crowd fades away as he draws back, leaving nothing but the two of us and his warm gaze, which shines back at me, owning me, claiming me, telling the entire world that I belong to him, and that he belongs to me.
It’s something I used to dream about but never thought I’d have, and now we’re here, practically in front of the entire world, and he’s looking at me like I’m his entire world. If I could go back in time and tell a younger me that we would be here, that Ian Chase not only saw me but loved me too—I think that version of me might have laughed in my face.
The thought has me pulling him back to me, kissing him harder as the crowd goes wild.
“All right, all right.” I hear Jack’s voice break through the haze of our bubble. “That’s quite enough of that. Can we please have our left wing back if he’s done making out with my sister? Apparently, they’re dating. Did we know?”
“I hate him,” I grumble.
Ian chuckles softly. “No, you don’t.”
“No,” I sigh. “I don’t.” I can’t help but peck another kiss on his mouth. “Now go on. You have a game to win.”
“Sweetheart,” he says, smiling against my mouth. “I already won.”
My cheeks hurt from my smile, my heart full and my stomach fluttering, and watching Ian go, knowing that when he’s done here it will be me he leaves with…Well.
I feel like I won too.