Page 71 of Stick Fight

“Don’t try to play it cool with me, Rookie. I see how you look at Gabby.”

I squint at him. “What look?”

He smirks. “The same one I used to give Gina before she took my last name.”

“You still look at her like that, bud.”

Ash’s grin stretches across his face as he glances back toward Gina and the girls. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I do.”

For a moment, we just sit there, surrounded by sunshine and the distant soundtrack of kids laughing and birds chirping in the trees. Ash gently rocks Grant against his shoulder, his big hand supporting that tiny back, and damn if it doesn’t gut-punch me in the softest, most unexpected way.

“Ash,” I say after a beat, my voice a little rough. “Can I ask you something?”

He glances over. “Sure.”

“You and Gina. You’ve been together a while.”

“Yup.”

“Are things still…” I trail off, not even sure what the hell I’m trying to say. I rub the back of my neck and stare at the grass. “You know, good… behind closed doors?”

Ash raises a brow. “You want to know about my sex life?”

“Jesus, no.” I mock shiver. “No need to traumatize me for life.”

He chuckles but stays quiet, and I almost backpedal—almost—but then he says, “Are you asking if we get along? Even when no one’s watching?”

I nod slowly, every protective wall I’ve ever built suddenly feeling paper-thin.

He watches his son for a long second, then looks back at me. “Yeah, Roman. We do. It’s not perfect. Marriage isn’t some magic spell that makes everything easy. We argue. We frustrate the hell out of each other. I swear if I leave the toilet seat up one more time, she’s going to banish me to the garage.”

He laughs again, but there’s a softness behind it now. “But through all the shit, we’ve got this foundation. Love. Trust. It’s what keeps us grounded. We’re not pretending. We’re choosing each other every damn day. We’re choosing family, and that…” He pats Grant’s back, his eyes misty. “That’s everything.”

Family.

A weight hits my chest.

I’m not sure I knew that family, one to call my own, was all I ever wanted. I’ve spent so long running from the chaos of my past, I never stopped to think I might be running away from the one thing I’ve always needed.

Maybe I’m done running.

Gabby glances back at me then, sunlight catching in her hair, her smile blooming like it was made just for me. Jesus, she looks so happy, like her past is her past and she’s ready for a future, and I can’t help but think, maybe May will bring more than flowers.

Maybe it will bring…forever.

20

Gabby

Maeve just left her box suite seat, and no one is whispering behind her back. They never do, but it never fails to surprise me. I somehow always expect it, because it’s a reflex I can’t shake, a souvenir from the world I’ve recently left in the rear-view mirror.

I glance around the plush room where the Bucks are steamrolling Philly, and for a second, I’m caught off guard by a rush of warmth. And no, it’s not just the two glasses of champagne talking. It’s something deeper. Something real. I’m a million miles from the chaos I’ve lived in for the past year, and even though I’m completely out of my element here, where I’m not floating in this world of designer bags and subtle power plays… I don’t feel out of place. Not really.

I scan the ice and my eyes find him. Roman. And just like that, the heat inside me spikes, pooling low in my belly. God, I’ve got it bad. Forthatplayer. The one with a reputation for hockey brawls and bedroom escapades. But for the past three and a half months—wait, three and a half months?—he’s been mine. Only mine. No puck bunnies. No late-night scandals. No grainy paparazzi shots of him with two women and a smirk.

Just Roman and me. At home. We’ve slipped into this quiet rhythm that feels so damn domestic it almost scares me. Dinners we actually cook ourselves, lazy Sundays with books and bad TV, and video calls when he’s on the road. It’s… nice. Comforting. But now that playoffs are well under way, I barely see him. I keep telling myself it’s because he’s focused. Dialed in. Not because he’s restless. Not because he misses the high of his old life.

Right?

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