That’s exactly what I needed him to say. It would’ve been all wrong had he apologized and said he didn’t mean it, because that would’ve been a lie. I know his doubts and fears are real. I know that while Stone has come a long way in the last several weeks, he still has pain and demons. Hell, I still have pain and demons.

  The fact that he’s admitting them, but doesn’t want to be a slave to them, is exactly what I needed to hear.

  I throw my arms around his neck and plaster my mouth to his. I know there is probably so much more to say, but honestly… it’s irrelevant at this moment.

  And let’s not forget, he just threatened to kill his father if he ever touched me again. While I don’t wish any parent and child to have that type of divide, that fierce protectiveness tells me everything I need to know about this man.

  Stone pulls his mouth away from mine and looks down at me. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I’m having a hard time reconciling that I have a career again. It’s harder still to believe that you’re real. Even harder is the realization I can love someone so much or even have the guts to admit that to you, because deep down… there’s still that small part of me that doesn’t want to trust any of this. But I have to try, Harlow. You’re too important to me to not try.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” I murmur. My ears are ringing, and I feel light-headed because I’m pretty sure he just told me he loves me.

  “You don’t have to say a thing. You only have to listen right now. I love you. I love the woman who stopped her dog from attacking me when I stormed into her office, the woman who battled addiction, the woman I came to know through my brother’s journals. The woman who I’ve now shared meals with, dreams with, passion with. If my behavior has set us back, all I’m asking is you give me another chance.”

  My ears still ring slightly, and the dizziness is in check only because Stone is holding me. It’s with no hesitation that I say, “I love you, Stone. And I’ll give you a million chances to always make things right with me.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so generous.”

  “Because I know mistakes happen. I know weakness is an ongoing battle. I wanted to drink so much when you left my condo last night—”

  Stone jerks me to him and wraps his arms around me tight, pressing his lips to the top of my temple. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that—”

  I push him away and tip my head back so he can see my face. “Don’t you apologize for my weakness. I need to own it. It’s only when I own it that I can defeat it. You’re going to piss me off at some point in the future, Stone. You’re going to hurt my feelings again too. I’m probably going to do the same to you. It’s what people do to each other because we’re human. But if I know you love me, I can overcome anything. And what I hope you learn is that you have my love, my loyalty, and my absolute devotion. So you can overcome any weaknesses that decide to rear their ugly heads.”

  Finally, Stone smiles. The tension, angst, and worry seem to melt away. “I think we might be a fucking match made in heaven.”

  “I absolutely believe something bigger was at play in bringing us together.”

  “Brooks,” he says simply.

  I don’t know if Brooks is our guardian angel, or if some cosmic power put us on the same path.

  I only know I’m never going to question it.

  I’ll only ever be grateful.

  I lift onto my toes and press my mouth against Stone’s. It’s the first kiss of our new life together, and I know there will be a million more to come.

  CHAPTER 26

  Stone

  I stop at the door to Harlow’s condo and fish my keys from my pocket. It’s one key heavier now that I added hers four days ago when we made up.

  Or rather, when I prostrated and begged forgiveness for being so stupid.

  It was the shortest breakup in the history of breakups, although Harlow said we weren’t truly broken up. She calls it “my need to get my shit figured out.”

  Which I quickly did. That night in bed, I tossed and turned, replaying things over and over, focusing on what got me upset at her parents’ house, and all I could conclude was that her loving, accepting family was too antithetical to what I knew, and therefore, I couldn’t trust it.

  I didn’t tell myself I was being stupid, because I actually think, given my history and how horribly dysfunctional my parents are, I have the right to get spooked.

  But most importantly, what I figured out is that even if I do get spooked, I won’t run away from the best fucking thing to ever happen to me—and I mean, better than being a professional hockey player and better than winning the Cup.

  Harlow Alston is truly the only thing I need to make my life whole.

  So, yeah… figured out all that during my long, lonely, sleepless night. I was exhausted the next morning, but I knew I needed to fix things right away. My life and future happiness depended on immediate prostration and groveling.

  Unfortunately, Harlow didn’t answer her door when I knocked. Odin was inside barking, and when that didn’t spur her to open the door and I didn’t hear her telling him to be quiet, I knew she wasn’t home.

  I decided to go for a walk, hoping the crisp morning air would clear my head. I explored the neighborhood on foot, found some more prime spots for Odin to go potty should I ever get the privilege of walking him again. I had a game that evening and was hoping to see Harlow before I had to leave for the arena. I’d resolved that if she wasn’t at her place by the time I made it back, I’d call and beg her for a meeting, hopefully before the game. I knew if I didn’t fix things before then, my head would not be in it, and I’d play like shit.

  She contacted me before I got back, and it was not what I wanted to hear. She’d texted that my dad was in our building, so she was going over there.

  Fear sliced through me, because I had no clue what my father was capable of. He’d seemingly lost touch with reality, so my leisurely morning walk turned into an all-out sprint to our place. Reaching the top of the staircase and watching my father advance on Harlow, I knew at that moment I had the capacity to kill if it meant protecting her.

  Luckily, it didn’t come to that, as it would’ve been hard to have a relationship with me in prison, but you know the rest.

  I love her, and I’ve made sure she knows it.

  She loves me, and she gave me a key to her condo. While I didn’t give her one to mine—I have to have one made first—I suspect I’ll probably be selling mine and moving into hers. I know that might be rushing things, but I’m envisioning the future I want, and I’m going to get it.

  That future will not include a relationship with my father. I’ve made it clear to him he’s not welcome in my life. My mom is a bit of a tougher pill to swallow. I think she needs to leave him, but I don’t think she will. Still, we’ll keep trying, and I’ll make it clear she only has to call and Harlow and I will help her.

  I’ve been gone for two days—an away game against the Cold Fury—and I’m almost too giddy with excitement to see Harlow. We’ve talked and texted when our schedules allowed, but being away from her has been kind of miserable. I hope that’ll get better as I really have no choice but to travel with my job. But for now… I’m just ready to look at her.

  Kiss her.

  Hold her.

  Get her in bed and do lots of dirty things to her.

  I slip inside the condo. This is her place, not mine, but it feels like I’m coming home even if she has moose heads and gymnastic dragons in tutus on the walls. I’ve never had that feeling before.

  When I step inside, I immediately see Odin on the couch. We’re definitely making progress. He doesn’t growl but instead lifts his head to look at me, and miracle of miracles, his tail thumps against the leather cushion, as if he’s happy I’m home.

  Glancing to the right, I see Harlow standing at the stove with her back to me, hair on top of her head. She’s in my red flannel shirt I left here the night before my road trip.

  It touches me in the deepest of places that she wants that connection when I’m gone.

  Her neck twists, and she smiles at me over her shoulder. “You’re home.”

  “I’m home,” I reply, setting my duffel on the floor and closing the door. I immediately start for her, the only thing between us the damn kitchen island.

  “Wait!” she exclaims, holding out a hand as she faces me. She glances back, clicks off the flame under whatever she’s cooking—which smells delicious, by the way, but I’m not interested in food. When she turns back, her fingers go to the top button on my flannel shirt. “I have something to show you.”

  “If it’s under that flannel,” I reply, my eyes pinned on her hands, “don’t bother with the strip tease. I can’t handle it.”

  Harlow laughs and works at the buttons, quickly as asked. My pulse hammers, and when she pulls open the shirt, I’m disappointed to see another shirt underneath. It appears to be the exact white T-shirt I’d worn under it, and I think it’s sweet and sexy she wanted to wear that too.

  Shrugging out of the flannel, she tosses it aside. That’s good enough for me. I start once again toward her.

  “Wait,” she commands, rolling her eyes. “So impatient.”

  “I haven’t seen you in two days,” I grumble. “I’m more than impatient.”

  “Oh, you’ll thank me later for making you wait,” she says mysteriously.

  Then turning once again toward the stove, she grabs something from the counter. It’s a large, glass pitcher filled with ice water. “This is for you.”

  “Not thirsty,” I say with a pointed look at it.

  “You will be,” she promises, and then I’m stunned when she tips her head back, holds the pitcher above her chest, and slowly pours the ice water over herself. Ice hits the hollow of her throat, water pours down her chest, and the white T-shirt becomes translucent, molding to the outline of her breasts. The freezing water causes her nipples to pucker and pop against the thin cotton.

  My dick swells to rock-hard proportions, and I remember… the gay bar wet T-shirt contest Brooks wrote about. I’d teased her about it once, told her I wanted to hear more about that story.

  And now, here she is, showing me.

  “God, if I’m dreaming… nobody better fucking wake me up.” There’s no stopping me now. I stride through the kitchen, around the counter, and come toe-to-toe with her. Once around the counter, I can see she’s wearing nothing else other than the wet T-shirt. It’s contoured to her front, and she might as well not be wearing it because I can see every inch of her body through the soaked fabric.

  What a fucking homecoming.

  But she’s not finished as her hands work fast at my belt, button, and zipper, and before I can process her intention, she’s on her knees with my length in her mouth.

  “Jesus, Harlow,” I bark, my hands going to the side of her head. She sucks and licks and I’m so crazed with lust, I’m about to embarrass myself.

  I’ll probably hate myself later, but I gently push her off and lift her up from kneeling so I can kiss her. I pull her into me, the wet material soaking my shirt, but I don’t care. Her tongue in my mouth is exactly what I need. My hands move to her ass and press her pelvis tight against my aching cock.

  “I missed you,” I mumble against her mouth.

  “Missed you more.”

  Just as I’m about to pick Harlow up and carry her into the bedroom, something cold and wet brushes against me, and then Odin is pushing his way in between us with that big block head of his.

  This dog is ridiculous, but I’m strangely not irritated with him. In fact, I find myself laughing as Harlow and I break apart.

  “Odin,” Harlow says in a chastising tone, but I hold up my hand.

  “I got this.”

  Harlow cocks an eyebrow and smirks at me.

  Feeling stupid with my dick hanging out, I tuck it back in before squatting down before Odin. I put my hands to the sides of his head, much the way I do with Harlow when I want to hold her captive for a kiss.

  I have no intention of kissing Odin, but I do look him straight in the eye, hoping he won’t eat my face if he doesn’t like what I have to say.

  “Listen, buddy,” I say, rubbing his fur. “I love your mom. And I need alone time with her. You get far more time with her than I do, so how about giving me this one?”

  Odin stares at me, as if requiring more.

  “I promise to take you on an extra-long walk later, and I’ll sneak you some food when your mom isn’t watching.”

  Apparently, the dog understands English, because his tongue lolls out, and before I can move, he slurps the front of my face from chin, across my lips, over my nose, and right to my forehead.

  Fucking gross.

  But I act like I like it and ruffle his fur. “Good boy.”

  To my astonishment, Odin turns and trots back into the living room, hops on the couch, and curls into his doughnut sleeping shape.

  “Impressive,” Harlow says.

  I stand, wiping my sleeve across my face. “Well, that killed the mood.”

  “Speak for yourself,” she murmurs, pulling the wet shirt over her head and dropping it to the floor.

  Yup. Mood definitely back in play.

  Harlow heads to the bedroom, and I follow along behind. I glance back once at Odin and find him watching me as I walk away.

  His lips peel back slightly, showing his upper teeth and long canines. I can’t decide if it’s a threat, a reminder he’s got his eye on me, or if he’s smiling because he likes me.

  Either way, I’m going to bed with Harlow right now, and he’s not, and that’s all that really matters.

  Veteran player Gage Heyward retired from the league following a very successful career. Now the Titans need him, but does he have what it takes to get back on the ice and pull this team together? READ chapter one of GAGE below, and CLICK HERE to preorder now.

  Chapter 1

  Gage

  I’m getting to know the city of Pittsburgh well, particularly the North Side, which is comprised of several contiguous neighborhoods where many of the Titan players live. I promised our goalie coach, Baden, that I’d help him move his friend, Jenna, into an apartment this afternoon and my navigation system tells me it’s less than a mile from the arena. I finished up a workout with Stone, then spent a little bit of time reviewing game film on my own before heading out.

  Coming out of retirement, and as the oldest Titan on the team at age thirty-five, I always have to go a bit above and beyond to maintain my position on the first line. That means not only stellar play on the ice and keeping my body in optimal shape, but also getting to know my opponents. I’d been out of the league for almost a year, having retired from the Seattle Storm, where I’d spent the last seven years of my career, at the end of last season.

  I thought I was done with hockey but apparently hockey wasn’t done with me.

  When Callum Derringer called me with an offer to join the Titans after the plane crash, I reached deep inside myself to determine whether I still had what it takes to be competitive.

  I knew it wouldn’t be a problem physically. I’m still in great shape—some would say the best of my life—but it remained to be seen whether I had the heart for it. I decided to retire last year because, frankly, I wasn’t getting the same thrill from competition that once drove me.

  But the prospect of skating with a team that was being built from nothing appealed to me. Not only the challenge but the opportunity to be a part of history within this league. To help shape and form what would hopefully be a new dynasty spoke to my conscience more than anything. The ability to mentor young players moving from the minors to the pros who would be out of their element. Helping a city that is reeling from the loss of its beloved hockey team.

  Simply put… I wanted to do some good with my life, and this seemed like the way to do it. The money offered—while very nice—wasn’t important. Between my previous salary and endorsement deals, which had been wisely invested, I’d never have to worry about finances for the rest of my life.

  In the end, it was an easy yes for me and I don’t regret a thing.

  I turn right onto North Avenue from Allegheny and see a large moving truck parked before the loft apartments where I’m supposed to meet Baden and Sophie.

  When I approach, I see Sophie standing near the rear of the truck, the roll up door lifted and the back filled with furniture and boxes. This section of North Avenue is a two-way street with parallel parking on both sides and all the spots are taken. I stop and roll my window down and Sophie grins as she sees me.

  “You standing guard?” I ask her as I nod toward the truck.

  “Protecting the truck from a parking ticket,” she replies with a grin as she moves my way and bends down to see me. “There’s a fire hydrant on the other side so I’m prepared to roll out if a cop comes. Baden’s upstairs putting the bed rails together. There’s parking in the back alley.”

  “Got it,” I reply with a thumb’s up.

  After I park and lock my car, I round the block and Sophie points me toward the door. “Second floor. Unit 2.”

  Trotting up the stairs, grimacing at the compact u-shape of the stairwell which is going to be a bitch moving up that couch I saw in the back, I find unit 2’s door slightly ajar. I push it open, noting a small living with good lighting and a balcony where I can just make out the very tips of the buildings downtown. The flooring is new—light gray stain—and the kitchen is white-on-white, making the small area appear bright and open. There is no hallway to speak of, just another room with a closed door and from inside, I can hear the whir of a power drill.

  On a small step stool is a woman with long blond hair hanging down to her mid-back stacking plates in a cabinet from an open box on the counter. She’s wearing a pair of black workout leggings, a long sleeve shirt and running shoes.