Page 92 of Drop the Mitts

“I’m not done.” He stepped closer again. Inches separating them now. His body heat permeated her sweater. Grace’s heartbeat roared in her ears. “I want you. And not just in my bed. I want to hear your voice in the morning. I want to argue with you about stupid reality TV shows and takeout and apparently shit-near everything because that’s what we do. I want to fight with you about whether we should paint the bedroom or buy another bookshelf. I want you to tell me that I’m young and stupid. I want to win and I want to lose, and hell if I don’t want to make up after every damn argument.”

Despite herself, she let out a half laugh, half broken sob.

André looped a finger in her jeans and tugged. “I want all of it. You in my life. You with your silky blouses and legal pads and your over-prepared suitcase and your mouth—” He hissed a breath and dragged a hand over his face. “That mouth.”

Her skin flushed like fire.

“But this isn’t a decision I can make for you, Grace. I can’t tell you to stand at the kitchen counter and eat. I can’t make a deal with you to get you onto the waterslide.”

“That wasn’t a deal.”

“It was a deal because I quit so you wouldn’t taste smoke on me?—”

“I didn’t taste it. In the locker room.”

He laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Are you arguing with me right now? I’m telling you I quit smoking for you and you’re telling me I didn’t have to?”

Grace pursed her lips. “Sorry. Continue.”

André chewed his lower lip. The silence stretched. “Tell me what you want, Grace.”

What did she want? That question was so foreign, she didn’t know how to begin to tackle it. What did she want? It had never been about that. She’d done what she was supposed to do, wanted the things everyone would want—a good job, great income, and a husband. She’d done everything right, and that house of cards had collapsed around her.

What did she want? She wanted to be safe. She wanted not to hurt. It sounded trite, but it was the honest-to-goodness truth. The idea of allowing herself to want more than that . . .

A tear slipped onto her cheek. “If I let myself want—” She sucked in a breath. She couldn’t finish the sentence.It would hurt too much not to get it.

André’s words cracked her heart open just enough to envision it, but admitting it? Asking for it?

Her life was predictable. It was safe. She’d built a situation that gave her exactly what she wanted theoretically.

What are you going home to?

Grace turned and looked through the window at Country taking Hope from Jenna, kissing her cheek as she and Elodie washed the dishes.

Spending time with the Snowballs was like unwrapping a present layer by layer. She saw it now. They were a family. A team. But all her life she’d felt like that gift had never been for her. Not that her parents hadn’t tried, they were wonderful. Butshe’d always known—always accepted—that she wasn’t quite a part of it.

How did one step into a family? How did you simply believe the gift was for you?

“How do you do it?” she whispered. “How do you play on a team? Trust they won’t let you fall?”

His eyes wandered over her face as he considered. Finally he said, “I don’t.”

Grace blinked.

“I don’t trust they won’t let me fall,” he clarified. “That’s not how it works.” He pulled her closer, slipping his hand around her waist. “I trust that if I fall, someone’s going to be there to throw a glove. That they’ll drop whatever they’re doing and haul ass across the ice. And if they can’t?” He shrugged. “They always have a damn good excuse.”

Grace stared at him, heart thudding.

“You know what makes a great teammate?” He leaned closer, his stubble rubbing against her cheek. “They’re the ones who don’t skate away when the play gets messy. When things go sideways, they dig in. They don’t have to score the goals, but they’re always in the right spot when it counts.” He slipped his hand up the inside of her shirt, and she gasped when his cold fingers met bare skin.

“I thought you said this was my decision.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight dirty,” he whispered, his fingertips pressing against her spine. “A good teammate calls you on your shit. They don’t care about our ego, they only want you to get better.”

Grace swallowed, the air sticking in her lungs. “Is that all?”

He dipped his head, brushing his lips over her neck. “They look amazing naked.”

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