Page 43 of Much Ado About Hockey

He gave her space—literally and figuratively—without question or complaint. The master bedroom was hers, a gesture that had seemed minor at first but now spoke volumes. He understood that they weren’t there yet—not ready for closeness, not ready for intimacy. They were still learning each other, still unwrapping layers. And somehow, Jett saw that with a quiet clarity that startled her. He respected that space, honored it, and never pushed.

She was almost certain he hadn’t been like that with others before her. There was a softness to him tonight that whispered of change—of choice. He hadn’t just married her; he was choosingher, day after day, word after word, laugh after laugh. And heaven help her, it was working.

“I can’t believe you asked to keep the massive bone from your steak – or that you ate everything,” she said, her voice light with laughter as Jett closed the door behind them. The lock clicked, and his low chuckle joined hers like a familiar song.

“The dude asked me if I had a dog… I was like ‘nah bruh, I’m gonna frame it’,” Jett replied, nearly choking on his own laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that boyish way that always caught her off guard.

“The look on his face…” she began, already laughing again.

“Nutella, you shoulda seen the look on yours!” he exclaimed, pointing at her with delight, and just like that, they were laughing all over again—loud and uninhibited as no one had ever told them to keep it down.

He kicked off his sneakers and dropped his bag by the door without ceremony, wandering into the living room like he’d always belonged there. Like maybe she did, too. He flopped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, sprawled out like a man who knew exactly where he fit. Karen followed behind him, slowly slipping off her heels and leaving them abandoned by the door.

When she turned, she saw him watching her.

Not in a way that made her shrink or second-guess. No, he looked at her like she was a person worth noticing—even in the quiet, unglamorous moments. Barefoot and exhausted, she padded over to the opposite end of the couch and collapsed onto the cushion, curling her legs up and meeting his eyes.

And then, without thinking, she gave him the look.

Hislook.

The cocked eyebrow, that signature expression he wore like armor. She mirrored it perfectly, lifting one brow with exaggerated precision. Jett stared for a heartbeat, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion, and then?—

They both broke into laughter again.

“Are you making fun of me?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Maybe?”

“It looks good on you, so do it again.”

And just like that… something inside Karen melted—quietly, irreversibly.

It wasn’t dramatic. No soaring music, no cinematic kiss in the rain. Just the low hum of comfort humming between two people who were finally in step with each other. This—this—was how it began, not with grand declarations or the dizzy rush of infatuation, but with laughter shared over steak bones and lingering smiles on a too-comfortable couch. With a warmth that crept up slow, steady… a warmth that whispered,You’re safe here. You’re seen.

And maybe, just maybe, a bit of -You’re falling for me… and loved right back.

“I plan on it,” Karen chuckled, the joy from their evening still softening her from the inside out. She felt light—like she’d let go of something heavy she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying for far too long.

“Wanna watch some television?” Jett asked, his voice casual, his smile easy.

“Sure do,” she replied, sinking deeper into the couch, her body remembering the peace it had found there the night before. Her limbs relaxed, molding into the cushions like she belonged there—and then she hesitated. Something in the air had shifted.

The TV stayed dark.

Karen turned her head slightly, a question forming—then dissolved when she caught the look on Jett’s face. He wasn’t reaching for the remote. He was looking at her.

And not justlooking—he wasseeingher.

Her breath caught.

He was slouched down beside her, gaze heavy-lidded and soft, his posture relaxed, but his expression filled with something far deeper than ease. Tenderness. Wonder. A vulnerability she hadn’t seen from him before. Her heart gave a traitorous stutter, then thudded, heavy and full, in her chest.

“This evening was nice,” he whispered, his voice low and almost reverent.

“Yes, it was,” she replied quietly, mirroring his tender tone with a smile that came from someplace deep. “I really enjoyed getting to know you—and I think this is what we’ve needed.”

“Me too,” he said, nodding slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I think we’ve just needed to both stop moving for a second so we could push forward at the same speed, in the same direction.”

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