Page 76 of Just Forever

“People change,” I say carefully. I’m not sure if feeding Lake’s hope is something I should do.

“Yeah, I knew you’d think that. It’s half the reason I was willing to hear him out. You’re ruining me.” He sends me a grin, and I chuckle softly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says through a wide yawn. “I love you, so it’s not like I’d hate being more like you.” There’s a short pause before he hides his face against my side and mumbles, “You’re the best person I know, so asking myself, ‘What would Ryker do?’ is kind of my way of aiming for the moon and landing among the stars.”

I blink at the ceiling for a few seconds, digesting what Lake just said. Then I wiggle lower and turn on my side so I’m facing Lake. He makes a face at me and blushes furiously. Saying sweet things and being open about his feelings isn’t my husband’s strong suit. Which is to say that in any other circumstance, he’d most likely pick torture instead of this kind of vulnerability. Not with me, though. He makes that effort for me.

Nobody else. Just me. How’s that for being special?

I press a kiss to the tip of his nose, and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re everything,” I say.

He holds my gaze and doesn’t look away. He moves his head closer until our noses are touching.

We fall asleep like that.

Forehead to forehead.

Nose to nose.

Heart to heart.

RYKER

After that night,the rest of the week is good, too. I have two games, both at home, so I’m enjoying a full week of no travel at all.

A full week of Lake.

It’s the best week in forever.

I mean, objectively, it’s nothing special. We’re doing the most ordinary, mundane things. Lake goes to school, and I go to practices and meetings. We grab lunch and cook dinner together. Lake studies while I watch game tape, his feet in my lap, a pencil between his lips. I quiz him for his tests, and we go jogging together.

Lake comes to both my games and cheers so loudly his voice is hoarse after.

All the while, I push any thoughts of Scott out of my mind, and Lake doesn’t mention him either. I almost want him to fuck off for good, never to be heard from again. Let him be a blip on the radar that doesn’t become anything. That’d make things easier.

So, yeah. Objectively speaking, it’s all almost insultingly mundane.

But.

Lake and I get so few of those everyday moments together with our hectic schedules that every ordinary, regular, everyday moment becomes extraordinary.

“I don’t get basketball,”Kian says, eyes firmly trained on the ball. “Like, the game has potential, but there are just so many decisions made here that are just wrong.”

We’re in the nosebleeds because coming to the game was a last-minute decision, and these were literally the only seats left. Not that I really care. I’m not big on basketball anyway.

Lake tilts his head to the side and takes a sip of his beer. “Like what?”

“Where do I even start?!” Kian says. “These guys are on average seven feet tall or something, and they’re putting them on a court they can cross in two steps. What’s the point? Put them on a proper field and then we’ll talk. This is bullshit. On that same note, the hoop is too low. But the most egregious abuse of this sham of a game is how much they score. It’s every fucking minute. Where’s the excitement in it? Where’s the tension?”

The people sitting in the row in front of us turn their heads and glare at Kian. He nods at them. “Yeah, I said what I said.”

“I don’t know,” Lake muses. “It’s quick, so there’s a lot of action. And it definitely takes skill. There are way worse sports to watch.”

“If you tell me hockey’s on that list you’re dead to me,” Kian says.

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