Just remembering the emotions I felt when I looked into her eyes sends a panic through me and down a path that I have no idea how to navigate. I reach for the towel I discarded earlier after my shower and swipe it over my chest, cleaning myself off.

  Picking up her screen, she props it up next to her pillow as she curls on her side.

  Taking my iPad in my hand, I throw the covers over my lower half and lean back to get comfortable.

  “I did something today,” she says softly.

  “Yeah? What is that?” I smile, which I’m finding I do a lot more lately now that I’m back home near her.

  “The girls came over for wine night, and we started talking about relationships. Before I knew it, I was sobbing in their arms, and I told them about that night. It felt so good, Knox,” she whispers.

  “I’m really glad you told them,” I say softly. “It makes me feel better knowing you have the girls to talk to if your demons ever come back to haunt you.”

  “You’ve done a pretty good job at chasing them away,” she smiles, but then it fades just as quickly as sadness takes over her features.

  “What’s with the sad face?”

  “I just…did knowing what happened to me feel like a burden to you?”

  “What? Why would you think that? Of course it wasn’t a burden,” I say, frowning. “It wasn’t your fault what happened to you. I would have done anything to take away your pain.”

  “Exactly,” she says quietly. “So why for one second would you think what happened to you in the past would be a burden for me? It’s not your fault you were dealt a shitty dad. All I want to do is give you what you gave me—freedom from the chains that keep you from breaking free.”

  “It’s not that simple, Savi,” I sigh. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you. There’s not an ounce of bad in your body. Someone like you should never have to see or feel evil.”

  “And you think you deserve a dad who treats you like shit?”

  “Yeah, I do, actually.”

  “You were a child, Knox. How could you possibly think you deserved such abuse?”

  Guilt and sadness seep in even though I try so hard to shut it out. I squeeze my eyes shut at the onslaught, trying to block out some of the pain.

  “It’s okay to feel,” she whispers. “You have to allow yourself to feel if you want any chance of being able to let go.”

  “I just need more time, Savi,” I finally say when I’m able to speak. “There are a few things I need to do before I can even begin to try to let some of this shit go. I’m not even sure it’s possible.”

  “All I’m asking you to do is try. If not for yourself, then do it for your mom,” she adds quietly. “She would want you to be happy.”

  All I do is nod because that’s all I can do. My heart feels heavy in my chest, and my throat is locked up tight.

  As always, Savi knows exactly what I need as she dims her light and settles next to me, just giving me the silence and time I need to rein in my emotions and regain control again.

  Turning down my light as well, I lie down and let her presence calm me as I listen to her soft breathing until she finally drifts off to sleep.

  I replay her words over and over in my head, knowing deep down she’s right.

  Ever since my mom died, I learned the only way for me to survive was to shut off my feelings. If I didn’t, I would drown in them with no hope of breaking through the surface. Hockey was my outlet for the anger and pain I kept hidden. Until now, I thought my life with a successful career and women to briefly fill a void for the night was enough, but now I’m not so sure.

  Glancing over at my iPad, I trace her features with my eyes and feel that same pull I felt the first day I met her. She makes me feel less broken…less shattered. I feel happier when I’m around her, and things seem less heavy. She makes me want more, and that scares the absolute fuck out of me.

  She said I pulled her from her darkness, but she’s always been the one constant light for mine. Maybe it’s time I try to finally step toward it instead of merely existing with what I’ve always been kept in.

  I watch her sleeping until my eyes get too heavy to stay open, and as always with her, I easily fall into a deep sleep with her by my side.

  TWENTY

  KNOX

  I hit the boards hard with a grunt as the body behind me slams into the glass.

  Motherfucker.

  After our win against New York the other night, our team is amped up and determined to bring home a double win for our fans.

  Boston isn’t making it easy, though. They came to play hard tonight and draw some blood as I watch another fight break out, stopping the play.

  One of their players next to me starts to intervene, and I block his way. I know McCormick can hold his own, but I’m not allowing a two-on-one. Neither is the rest of my team, as we pair up to stop any other involvement.

  Gloves are dropped, and we watch as McCormick throws a few hits before dodging the ones aimed at him. The refs wait until McCormick takes the other player to the ground before they finally break them apart, sending them both to the penalty box.

  I see Morris eyeing me a few feet away, and I can tell he’s biding his time before he comes at me. We’ve been playing this cat-and-mouse game all night, and I know he’s not going to leave this rink without throwing a few hits my way.

  Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and it’s scary how much I’m looking forward to it. If he wants to try again this year to bring me down…let him.

  “Watch your back, Stone. Morris is out for blood tonight,” Kane says quietly as he skates by me to get in position.

  “The bastard can try,” I chuckle, skating into place for the face off.

  I glance up at the scoreboard and double-check the time. Eight minutes left, and with a score of three to three, we need to dig deep for that last net shot. I know the guys are exhausted and took a beating with some of their hits, but I have no doubt they will push through the pain and give one hundred percent up until the very last buzzer sounds.

  Puck is dropped, and I snatch it up, passing it to Hayes, who circles around the goalie net before sending it down the rails to Foxx at the centerline. Foxx sees a shot and takes it, but it bounces off the pads of their goalie before one of their players takes control and brings it back to our side. Blade crouches low and focuses all his attention on the small black object.

  They take their shot, but he deflects it off his stick, sending it straight to Kane, who maneuvers it back and forth on his stick as we all race to the other side.

  Kane shoots it to Foxx, waiting for him at the far end of the center line. The other player is on him hard as he turns his back to him to stay in control of the puck before sliding it toward me.

  Keeping my eye on the puck, I wrestle with the opponent next to me, our sticks clashing and fighting in a battle to take control. I finally pull it away just when Hayes breaks away from the player guarding him, and I make a quick pass to the curve of his stick. He doesn’t hesitate to take the shot as we watch it slide between the goalie’s knees, lighting up the red light with just two minutes left in the game.

  Grinning, I skate over to Hayes with the team and shake his helmet with my glove.

  “Nice fucking net.”

  “Nice pass,” he grins before his eyes narrow. “Turn around, you’ve got company,” he says, focusing behind me as he skates forward to stop whatever is coming at me, but it’s already too late.

  I turn just as Morris’s glove slams into my helmet. Shaking my head, I snap out of the hit and grin.

  I notice my team surrounding us, as they hold back any other players, giving us our space.

  “That’s your one hit, Morris, and you only got that one in because you’re a fucking pussy who takes cheap shots.”

  Dropping my stick, I throw my gloves off along with my helmet as I skate around him.

  I faintly hear the crowd go wild, knowing they are going to get one last show in this game.

  “You’re a fucking asshole, Stone,” Morris spits out, dropping his gear to the ice as his hand curls into a fist as we circle each other.

  “I’ve been called worse,” I laugh, “but at least I add value to my team with netting the puck. You’re just a deadweight enforcer, and you’re not even good at it.”

  I hear Kane chuckle seconds before Morris slams his body weight into me. He’s strong, I’ll give him that, but he fights recklessly, and it’s easy for me to predict his moves.

  Digging my blades into the ice, I remain upright as I fist his shirt in my hand. Dodging a hit I see coming a mile away, I get a clip in on his chin as his head rears back. He loosens his grip on my jersey, and that’s all I need to get the upper hand as my fist hits him square in the mouth, splitting his lip wide open.

  Red stains his white jersey as drops of blood drip from his mouth.

  “You would think after last time you would have learned your lesson,” I grunt out as he rams me like a bull into my stomach, sending us both to the ground.

  “And miss this fun?” He growls, trying to regain the top position, but I’ve managed to pin him to the ground with nowhere to go.

  The refs take the opportunity they’ve been waiting for and pull me off of him, breaking us apart. The whistle blows for a penalty, and knowing a roughing call is coming, I skate over to the box to serve my time.

  “Looks like you might need a bandaid, Morris,” I point to my lip as he swipes the blood away on his chin. He starts to skate toward me, but his teammates stop him.

  “He’s not worth it, Morris. Just let it go.” I hear one of the other players say to him.

  I step into the box and grin when Morris also gets a misconduct call for instigating. He slams the door open when he gets to the team bench and heads to the locker room, ending his game tonight.

  McCormick skates over with my gear and drops it on the bench beside me as I run a towel over my damp face and hair.

  “Nice right hook,” he grins.

  “Had to leave him with a little something to remember me by.”

  Chuckling, he skates over to take his position for the puck drop. One of their fans bangs on the glass next to me, and I ignore it as I watch the clock start to die down.

  Two minutes may not seem like a lot of time, but in hockey, I’ve seen teams score twice in that time frame.

  They pull their goalie with forty-five seconds left, giving them the extra man on the ice. My leg bounces with adrenaline as every part of me yearns to be out there again. Gripping the railing with my hand, I watch my guys fight to gain back control of the puck.

  Blade stops a shot that most goalies would have never seen, and instead of keeping it for another whistle blow, he sends it shooting to the center line just as eager to finish the game as we are.

  Foxx finally gets control of it and sends it straight over to McCormick as he breaks away toward the empty net and shoots it easily in as the game buzzer goes off.

  Jumping out of the box, I head straight to Blade, tapping my helmet to his.

  “Nice save. I don’t know how you even saw that one,” I chuckle.

  “It’s a gift,” he grins. “I see Morris wanted another go with you this year.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be the last. Fucker never learns,” I laugh as the team surrounds us as we celebrate our second win on the road.

  Waiting until the last player has left the ice, I follow the excited chatter toward the locker room. I’m usually on such a game high that I can’t focus on anything else, but right now all my thoughts go straight to one thing.

  Tonight I’ll be coming home and, for the first time, my high isn’t coming from just a win. What I want more right now has hair darker than the blackest night, and blue eyes that pull me in so deep that it’s quickly becoming my favorite thing to get lost in.

  I’ve been gone three nights, and it’s been four days since I’ve been able to touch her. Between her work schedule and my games and travel, we’ve managed to get a few phone calls and texts in, but it doesn’t come close to sating this intense need I have to be able to feel her.

  Pulling my jersey over my head, I remove my pads and strip down to my black boxer briefs before submerging myself in an ice bath.

  A thousand needles hit my skin, but I tune it all out and focus on my breathing until my body accepts the pain that the ice-cold water brings.

  It doesn’t take long for the five minutes to be up as I grab a towel and take a seat on the bench, letting my body warm up naturally before I jump in a hot shower.

  “How’s your house hunting going?”

  Cayden sits down next to me, his body wet from the ice bath as he grabs a towel.

  “I plan on looking at a couple next week.”

  Truth is, I haven’t been in any hurry to move out, so I’ve put it on the back burner. I had my assistant send me over some options, but I haven’t even opened the email yet.

  “Bring Savi. Girls are good at that shit. They somehow always know how to make a house a home.” Sadness touches his eyes briefly before it disappears.

  “How’s Scarlett doing?” I ask, wanting to bring it back to a lighter subject.

  His green eyes brighten at the mention of his two-year-old daughter.

  “Growing like a weed. My mom got her this pink tutu, and she refuses to take it off. She says she wants to be a ballerina when she grows up, and it’s the cutest fucking thing in the world. I’m thinking of putting her in dance class soon because she loves it so much.”

  Over the summer, Cayden and I became close. He volunteered at some of the hockey camps we held, and I got to meet his daughter. He’s not wrong. She’s the cutest fucking thing you’ve ever seen and, for some unknown reason, she loves me.

  “You need to stop by soon. Scar’s been asking for you. Maybe bring your friend over for dinner one night.” The amused look on his face lets me know he’s definitely not buying the friend part.

  “I could probably do that.” I throw the towel over my neck as I go back and forth on whether to say more.

  Cayden’s wife died in a freak car accident soon after Scarlett was born. He’s the only one I know who understands what losing someone close to you feels like.

  “Is it hard for you to look at Scarlett? She’s the spitting image of Juliette,” I say quietly.

  “It was in the beginning because I missed her so damn much. It was hard to breathe without her, but now it’s one of my favorite things about Scarlett. It’s like Jules gets to live on through our daughter, and when she grows up, every time she looks in the mirror, a little piece of her mother will be looking back at her.”

  “I look like my mom.” I have no idea why I’m telling him all of this, but I can’t seem to stop the words from pouring out. “My dad hated looking at me when my mom died. Still does,” I admit with a sad chuckle.

  “He sounds like an ass,” Cayden mutters.

  “Ass is an understatement,” I softly laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Losing my mom was the worst pain imaginable. Scares the fuck out of me to lose someone else like that again.” I think of Savi, and just the thought of something happening to her sends ice through my veins.

  “Scares the fuck out of me too, man,” he sighs. “My daughter is my entire world, and I wake up in a panic sometimes thinking of losing her. Finding a love that deep, though, doesn’t give you a choice to walk away. It consumes you until you no longer can breathe without it, landing so hard in your life that the only option you have is to grab onto it and hope like hell you never lose it.” He studies me for a moment before speaking again. “If this is about Savi, I will say that even though losing Juliette was the worst pain of my life, I don’t regret choosing to love her. My life with her for those five years was better because she was in it.”

  “So if someone came along and made you feel that way again…would you take the chance to love again?”

  “Nah,” he smiles sadly. “I got my one shot with Jules, and Scar is all I need in my life. But you,” he says, getting up and grabbing his towel, “still have a shot in you. Don’t waste it.”

  He walks toward the showers, and I lean against the wall, closing my eyes as his words replay in my mind, not sure of anything anymore.

  By the time I pull up to Savi’s house, it’s two in the morning. Red-eye flights have never bothered me. The nights have always been something I’ve dreaded, so passing the time playing poker with the boys was always better than being alone in the dark with my thoughts.

  Tonight feels different, though. Once the plane landed, I couldn’t drive here fast enough. I’ve never experienced living in a place where I was actually looking forward to walking in the door.

  Pushing the garage door button, it lowers as I step into the house. A small lamp is on in the kitchen, but otherwise it’s dark. Dropping my bag on the floor, I don’t think twice about where I want to be tonight. There’s no way I can wait until tomorrow to feel her.

  Stepping quietly into her bedroom, I can make out her frame from the soft glow of an outdoor light coming in through the windows. I quickly undo the buttons on my dress shirt and slip off the rest of my clothes before sliding under the covers.

  She stirs in her sleep as I bring her body close to mine. Breathing her in deeply, I bury my face in her hair.

  “You’re home,” she says, sleepily.

  Home.

  A simple four-letter word, but so foreign to me. I’m not used to feeling like I belong…like I’ve been missed.

  “I just got here. God, you smell so good,” I whisper, inhaling her again because the first time wasn’t enough.

  She turns in my arms so she’s facing me. Her hand comes up to stroke my cheek as her finger brushes across my lip.

  “Are you hurt anywhere?” Concern flashes across her features as her fingers wander over my face.

  “No,” I laugh. “Why would I be?” My mind draws a blank on why she would be thinking that.

  “Morris hit you. And all those hits into the boards tonight.” Her hand trails down over my chest and stomach as if searching for a wound.