Chapter Sixteen
Saint
I’m tired in the best way. But the adrenaline crash is hitting hard tonight. Especially now that the house is quiet and the kids are in bed.
Presley’s in the shower, and I’m double-checking the locks and turning on the alarm system. As I climb the stairs slowly, every step feels heavier than the last. I’m a goddamn professional athlete, but I can’t remember feeling this tired. At least not in a very long time.
I push open my bedroom door and walk into the room. The light from the en suite gives off a soft glow, and steam rolls out under the door like a fog.
I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, letting my head hang for just a second. Then I roll it from side to side to loosen the neck muscles.
Today was good. It almost feels strange to admit it. But it’s true.
Seeing Remy smile and laugh like that did something to me. Filling a void I didn’t even realize had been hollow since Savannah died.
I can still hear his excited voice in the car on the way home.
“Aiden said he would come watch one of my games, Uncle Saint. Can you believe it?”
“Yep, I believe it. I bet he’ll come for a visit to see Aston soon. He probably has a game nearby, come to think of it.”
“Okay, so don’t forget to give him my schedule so he can come,” Remy says, seriously.
“I will, bud. I promise.” I look at his face in the rearview mirror and smile.
For a few hours today, he was just a kid. Not a boy who had lost his parents or someone trying to be brave. He was the star of the game, and that … mattered.
I scrub a hand over my face and lean back slightly, staring at the ceiling.
Then there were my friends. My teammates. Guys who didn’t have to show up, but they did anyway.
Alie and Liam have practically moved into my house … my life … without asking permission, just stepping in wherever and whenever we need them. But they also seem to just know when we need them, because they’re always with us. Especially on the harder days.
With Aston and Brody, it’s the same thing. They just show up.
I know it’s because they all want me to know I’m not in this alone. And I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repay that.
But I know one thing: I will never forget it. Ever.
Because this is what really matters. Not contracts, stats, or headlines. It’s the people in my life. My family—the kind you’re born into and the kind you build.
My chest tightens as Savannah’s face flickers in my mind. She would have loved today. Remy’s winning goal, Rhyan finding a friend who will indulge her imagination.
She wouldn’t want us to be stuck in grief.
She would want us to live. And for me to show the kids by my example how to continue on.
I exhale.
“I got this,” I mutter under my breath. “I’ve got them, Savannah.”
And I mean it.
No matter what the court says. And no matter what I have to do, they are mine to protect, and I won’t fail them.
And then there’s Presley.
I look over at the bathroom door and can hear her moving around.
We haven’t had one second alone all day. And the worst part about that was I couldn’t get a read on her like I usually can.
I know last night was a lot to digest.
Abrupt for sure.
And definitely not the way she deserved. She deserves something better than, “Marry me,” dropped in the middle of a grief spiral and legal crisis.
Presley should have thought, planning, and romance. Something that didn’t feel like I was asking her to step into chaos just to help me survive it.
Sure, the legal piece of it matters. I understand what the attorneys are telling me. I know how much easier this would be if I had a partner so the court could see stability, consistency, and reliability.
But it doesn’t change the truth. I meant every word I said. And if I’m being honest, I’ve been waiting years for this. I guess I just hadn’t allowed myself to think it was actually possible. Because Presley was … Presley.
She’s become my constant companion, and the one person I not only rely on the most, but the person I would never want to hurt.
So, in a way, I buried my feelings and told myself it wasn’t worth the risk. But everything has changed. And it’s put a whole lot into perspective for me.
Am I being selfish?
Yeah, probably. But it’s my truth.
I’m in love with Presley Grant, and I have been for a lot longer than I’m willing to admit to her.
And if I have the chance to make her mine, for real … I’m gonna take it.
Even if this chance is born out of circumstances neither of us would’ve chosen.
The bathroom door opens, steam rolling into the room, carrying the scent of her shampoo.
She steps out, her hair damp and her skin pink from the heat.
“Oh, hey,” she says when she sees me. “Sorry, did I take too long?”
I shake my head, pushing to my feet. “No, not at all. But if you’re done in there, I’m gonna take a shower before bed. Being at the rink all day, then around all those germy kids—it feels like a bad move, getting into bed like this.”
She smiles. “Fair.”
I step closer, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of her head as I pass.
“Hey,” I say quietly, touching her shoulder. “Thanks for being there today.”
She looks up at me, expression softened. “Saint, you don’t have to thank me.”
“Yeah, I do,” I say. “It means a lot.”
“I love seeing the kids happy,” she says. “And making friends.”
“Me too.”
She wrinkles her nose slightly. “Go shower. Now that I’m clean, I can smell your stink.”
I laugh.
“I don’t stink.”
“You definitely do.”
“I just feel like germs are crawling all over me.”
“And yet, you just kissed my clean head.”
“You’ll survive.”
She smirks and shakes her head.
I chuckle as I walk into the bathroom.
My shower takes all of five minutes. Just enough time for me to rinse off the day, clear my head, and reset for whatever comes next.
When I step out, towel wrapped around my waist, the room is quiet and dark.
I see Presley in the bed, watching me.
There’s something in her eyes that I’m not sure if I’m reading correctly.
My pulse picks up as I walk over to the dresser, dropping the towel without looking at her. Because I know she’s watching me.
I can feel it.
I pull on a pair of boxers, my movements slower than they need to be, aware of her in a way that has nothing to do with comfort, and everything to do with the something building between us.
When I get to my side of the bed, the scent of her hits me first. It’s sweet and clean, and mixed with a faint trace of mint from her toothpaste.
I slide into bed beside her and lie on my side facing her.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
“Hey,” she says, smiling, but not in a playful way.
Silence stretches between us, but not uncomfortably.
“We should talk,” she finally says.
My chest tightens. “Okay.”
“I’ve given a lot of thought about what you asked me,” she continues.
I don’t move. I just listen.
“And I also talked to Alie,” she adds.
Of course she did. It makes me feel slightly better and simultaneously worse. Because the Grant girls don’t sugarcoat anything.
Presley’s gaze holds mine. “I think we should do it.”
I blink, and for a second, I don’t even think I breathe.
“Yeah?” I ask quietly.
She nods. “I think we should.”
I study her face, looking for hesitation and doubt.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
She reaches over, setting her hand on my stomach.
“I want to do this.”
“For me?”
“Yes, for you. And for the kids.”
My throat feels like there’s a lump in it.
“There are details we need to figure out,” she adds. “Logistics. Timing. Pretty much everything.”
“Right.” I nod.
“But I think we should move forward.”
Something settles in my chest that feels a lot like relief.
“Okay,” I say softly.
She shifts closer, closing the space between us, and then she kisses me.
It’s not rushed or frantic. More like intentional.
My hand slides to her waist instinctively, pulling her in even closer as I deepen the kiss. Not out of urgency, but out of something that’s been building for a long time. Like the rubber band finally snaps.
I don’t want to rush this. The last two times we were together, intimately, were too quick. I didn’t get to take my time with her the way I want to now.
Her fingers trace along my arm, my shoulder, grounding me in a way nothing else has since my sister’s death. And for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel like I’m holding everything together by sheer force. I just feel her.
Like, there’s a real possibility of something more than survival.