Page 59 of Puck, Marry, Thrill

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t casual. It was deep, consuming, and honest.

His mouth moved against hers with the certainty of a man who had made a thousand small choices to love her every single day. And she let go—of fear, of doubt, of everything except the heat of his lips and the quiet thunder of her heart pounding in response. Her hands slid up his chest, clutching at his shirt like she could hold him closer, could anchor herself to this moment forever.

Time faded. The world fell away. There was no past, no future—just this kiss. Just this man.

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, unspilled but heavy. Not because she was sad. But because sometimes, happiness ached, too. Especially when you hadn’t believed it would ever really be yours.

Jamie melted into him with a sigh, soft and full of longing.Please let this last forever.If she could bottle this exact feeling—this safety, this passion, this love—she would keep it close for all the lonely years that had led her here, taking a chance onthisonhim.

She pulled back only slightly, her lips still brushing against his, her voice low and rough with emotion. “I should have borrowed a cup of sugar a long time ago, neighbor,” she whispered.

Kenneth chuckled, the sound was a soft rumble in his chest, and his smile ghosted across her cheek like a promise.

“No kidding.”

EPILOGUE

Eight Months Later

The library washer favorite corner of the house. Tucked away in the back with tall windows that overlooked the oak-lined yard, it had once been quiet and solemn, filled only with the scent of old paper, polished wood, and the lingering echo of memories. But over time, the space had softened. It had become a haven. A cradle for love and laughter. A room where life could breathe.

There were three photos of Kenneth on the wall—framed like sacred relics—each a moment frozen in time that pulled at her heart. Jamie had arranged them carefully, lovingly. The first showed Kenneth at practice with Zachary high on his broad shoulders, the little boy giggling with his helmet askew, sticky fingers tangled in Kenneth’s hair. The second, a perfectly timed action shot, captured him mid-stride during a game—focused, fierce, unstoppable. The third, her favorite, was pure magic: Kenneth and Jett Acton on either side of the Stanley Cup, eyes shimmering with tears, hands gripping the silver trophy like it was salvation.

Barrett had shrieked in the background and thrown a backflip on skates, nearly crashing in all his exuberance. The moment had been chaotic, beautiful, and unforgettable. The media had swarmed the ice, devouring the story, demanding interviews with Savage and Coach Starnes while the men who fought for every inch of glory stood there, breathless and undone.

Jamie remembered Kenneth teasing her that the library wasn’t the place for baby things—that pastel blankets and scattered building blocks didn’t belong among shelves of hardcovers and framed sports history.

But she disagreed.

It fit.

It was theirs now. This room, this house, this life—it all belonged to their story. The pages were still being written, and love was etched into every line.

A patter of hurried steps echoed down the hallway, socked feet slipping wildly on the hardwood. Zachary, still in his preschool backpack, his cheeks flushed pink with anticipation, barreled toward her, all kinetic joy and barely contained energy.

“Is it time? Is it now?” he shouted, breathless and wide-eyed.

Jamie laughed, though the sound was soft, airy—more breath than voice. Her body still ached from giving birth just three days ago, every muscle tender, every step careful. But her heart? Her heart was brimming. Swollen with a love so immense it felt like her chest couldn’t contain it.

She adjusted the delicate bundle in her arms, their newborn daughter nestled against her like a second heartbeat. Her skin was impossibly soft, her lashes long against flushed cheeks, and a tiny pink cap covered the tufts of dark hair that curled at the edges. The baby sighed, deep in the velvet of sleep, as Jamie slowly rose from the rocking chair, every movement deliberate.

Then—the garage door rumbled shut.

Her breath caught.

She didn’t even have to look. Shefelthim before she saw him. That electric hum that filled the air whenever Kenneth was near.

The door opened with a creak, and Kenneth stepped inside, breathless and grinning. One arm cradled a squirming blur of golden fluff, and the other fumbled for a leash in his pocket. His jacket was half-zipped, his hair slightly windblown, and his eyes—the warm brown that had once changed the entire course of her life—were shining.

“Okay, okay! He’s here!” Kenneth announced, practically laughing at Zachary’s excitement. “But you’ve got to be gentle, buddy. He’s just a baby like your sister.”

Zachary let out a squeal so high-pitched Jamie was sure the windows rattled. He bounced in place, with fists clenched at his sides, and his whole body trembling with joy. “You got me a puppy?”

Jamie lowered herself with effort, crouching slowly beside her son. Her knees protested, but her heart overflowed. She carefully slipped off his backpack and smoothed his hair back from his flushed forehead, cupping his cheek with a hand that trembled with the weight of the moment.

“We thought you needed a best friend,” she murmured, her voice thick with tears she didn’t bother to blink away. “Someone to grow up with. Mommy’s can’t give birth to puppies—but theycanhelp talk Daddy into getting one.”

Kenneth lowered the puppy to the floor, the golden doodle wobbling on unsteady legs, tail wagging in wide, ridiculous swoops. His ears flopped as he sniffed the air, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, and then he saw Zachary.

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