Page 74 of The Hockey Pact

The bruising along his ribs made me wince in sympathy. "We should be careful," I murmured, gently tracing the discoloration with my fingertips. "Your shoulder..."

"Worth it," he whispered against my neck, his good hand already working the buttons of my blouse with practiced ease.

We moved to our bedroom with renewed familiarity, rediscovering each other with the added dimension of acknowledged love. What had always been physically satisfying between us now carried emotional resonance that heightened every touch, every whispered endearment.

After, as we lay tangled in sheets and each other, I traced lazy patterns on Caleb's chest, careful to avoid his injuries. The comfortable silence between us felt like different kind of intimacy.

"I should make us something to eat," I said eventually, reluctantly pulling away from the warmth of his body. "You need protein after that game, and I haven't had a real meal since yesterday."

Caleb groaned in protest but released me, watching with undisguised appreciation as I retrieved his discarded shirt and slipped it on. The hem hit mid-thigh, providing minimal modesty that seemed unnecessary after our recent activities.

"Have I mentioned how much I've missed you in my kitchen?" he called as I padded down the hallway.

"You mean how much you've missed my cooking," I teased over my shoulder.

"That too," he admitted, following me with a wince that suggested his shoulder was protesting the movement.

In the kitchen, I moved instinctively toward the refrigerator while Caleb retrieved my favorite cutting board from the cabinet where it belonged. We fell into our established pattern—me assessing available ingredients while he gathered the ingredients, working together with the practiced coordination of people who had learned each other's rhythms.

"I think I can manage a decent pasta with what you have here," I said, examining a package of prosciutto and some aging but salvageable vegetables. "Though your produce situation is dire. When was the last time you bought anything green?"

Caleb leaned against the counter, watching me with an expression that made my chest tighten. "I've been eating a lot of takeout," he admitted. "The kitchen felt wrong without you in it."

The simple confession made me pause in my preparations. "I've missed this," I said softly, gesturing between us and the familiar kitchen space. "Cooking for you, cooking with you. Even your hopeless attempts to chop onions without crying."

"Hey, I've improved," he protested with mock indignation. "That tutorial you showed me about the wet paper towel trick actually works."

As I prepared a simple but satisfying pasta dish, I contemplated the contract lying forgotten in Caleb's desk drawer. The document that had once defined our relationshipnow seemed irrelevant compared to the reality we'd created together. Perhaps we'd burn it during our actual anniversary celebration, I thought, or frame it as a reminder of our unusual beginning.

"What are you smiling about?" Caleb asked, his arms encircling my waist from behind as I stirred the sauce.

"Just thinking about how far we've come," I replied, leaning back against his chest. "From business partners to... whatever we are now."

"Fiancés," he supplied, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. "For real this time."

The word sent a shiver of delight through me. "Does that make our first marriage a practice run?"

He laughed, the sound rumbling against my back. "Something like that. Though I'm thinking we keep the legal part intact and just renew our vows. Seems simpler than divorce and remarriage."

"Practical as always," I teased, turning in his arms to face him. "But I like it. A fresh start without erasing where we've been."

As we sat down to eat our late-night meal, the conversation flowed easily between plans for the expanded restaurant, playoff strategies, and the inevitable media response to our airport reunion. The comfortable domesticity felt both familiar and new.

"You know," Caleb said thoughtfully, twirling pasta around his fork, "when I signed that contract with you, I thought I knew exactly what I was getting: captaincy, public image improvement, convenient date for team functions."

"And I thought I was getting financial stability and a chance to save my restaurant," I added.

"We got all those things," he continued, reaching for my hand across the table. "But we got something I never thought to put in the contract."

"What's that?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"A real partnership. A home. A future that doesn't end when the contract does."

Chapter 24. Caleb

I straightened my tie in the mirror, the platinum band on my left hand gleaming as I moved. A year had passed since we first signed our unconventional marriage contract—what was once a predetermined endpoint now meant something entirely different. Instead of preparing dissolution papers, we were marking our paper anniversary with an intimate celebration atHat Trick—honoring both our unusual beginning and the genuine devotion that grew from it.

"Looking good, Captain," Max commented from the doorway, already dressed in his own suit. As my best man during our original ceremony and closest confidant throughout our unconventional journey, he'd arrived early to help with party preparations—though "help" mostly involved sampling the appetizers Riley had been preparing since dawn.

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