Page 104 of Stick With Me
A memory flashes in my mind.
It was back when we moved in with Greg and Mia. Trying to figure out where I fit in, I asked my mom, “Why? How do you know they won’t leave us, too?” I still remember how her gaze was as reflective as fresh ice, the same look I see in Hannah now. My mom’s voice was hoarse when she said, “Oh, baby. They’re not going anywhere. Greg sees me, and he sees you, too. To see, and to be seen, is the truest nature of love.”
I now know it wasn’t my mom who came up with those words, but some motivational speaker. Still, they stuck with me, mostly because I had no idea what they meant, only that she was right. They never left. I’m not sure I fully comprehended the meaning until this very moment.
To be seen the way Hannah sees me. Completely. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And to stay—that’s love.
I’ve yet to let her say the words, too scared they could be taken away. But right now, in this moment, I know they’re true. She sees me. She loves me. The same way I see her. Love her.
The plea to hear her say those three words nearly escapes my lips, but instead, I murmur, “Kiss me.” And she does, leaning up until her lips meet mine. I feel them curve into a smile, and for the first time since my body slammed into the ice, I know it’s all gonna be all right.
Hannah and I fly back to Chicago the next day and head straight to see the team doctor, who confirms I need surgery, and the sooner the better. They explain the recovery timeline: a few days on bedrest post-surgery, followed by three-to-six weeks in a sling, and then physical therapy. I can expect to be playing hockey in six months, worst-case scenario, and in four months at best. Which means if all goes well, I’ll be playing by next season’s opener. Silver lining, I guess, that my injury happened at the end of the season.
Not seeing any point in delaying the inevitable, I head into surgery on Monday. I’m relieved to wake up with Hannah by my side and the news of no complications. The next two days are a blur of bedrest and boredom. Hannah hovers like a watchdog, refusing to let me do anything remotely strenuous. On day three, I’m itching to move, but she shoots down every attempt. By day five, her resolve finally cracks. One thing leads to another and we make love.
Making love may be a stretch seeing as I can’t use my right arm, but whatever it is, it’s mind blowing. Sex with Hannah is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m addicted.
As she lays in my arms, both of us still coming down, I brush her sweaty hair out of her eyes.
“I’m glad you were my last and not my first. I don’t think I could give you up,” she murmurs against my chest.
“I wish I were both, but I agree with the sentiment.” I chuckle.
She lets out a small sigh. “I feel a little better.”
“I’m doing something wrong if you only feel alittlebetter.”
She playfully slaps my chest with a giggle. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. The surgery went well, and Knolls has been radio silent. It’s nice. Fox texted me the other day, sounds like they ended up giving Knolls a three-game suspension for the hit, since he got me from behind. I guess they’re not buying his ‘I didn’t see him’ excuse.”
“Good, he deserves it. At the very least, it was reckless, if not malicious. Do you feel any relief?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip. “I know you still have the recovery to deal with.”
“Yeah, now I only have my contract to worry about.” I pause, then add, “What do you think about New Jersey?” I try to gauge her reaction, but her expression is unreadable.
“What do you think about it? Is it something you’re considering?”
“It’s a better offer than I’ll probably get from Chicago… if one even comes. But you’re here, and I know you’ve worked so hard to set everything up for your rescue. I’m worried about the distance. Would you even be okay with long distance?”
“No.”
My heart clenches in my chest.
Losing her after everything we’ve been through—it’s unthinkable. If it comes down to choosing between her and a career move, the answer is simple: I’d choose her. Every time. Is it the ideal solution? No, but I just don’t think I’d be happy leaving her behind to play hockey.
She rubs my chest, her fingers gliding over my nipple, sending an inconvenient twinge to my dick. “I’d go with you, Ry,” she says softly. “We only just started this, and I’m not ready to give it up. Would it be inconvenient? Sure, but now that I have everything set up and most of the funding to support the rescue, I can do it from anywhere. If it’s something you’re seriously considering, I should probably rethink my launch party?—”
“No,” I cut her off, refusing to entertain that option. She deserves to celebrate what she’s been working so hard for, and I want to honor her accomplishments the same way she does mine.
“We could do long distance, but I don’t want to. I want to wake up with you in the morning and fall asleep with you at night,” she says.
I guide her on top of me, positioning her so she’s straddling my lap. She’s careful to keep weight off my shoulder as she brings her lips down to meet mine, gently tugging on the hair at the nape of my neck. I savor her mouth, letting the realization sink in—I get to do this for the rest of my life.
She’s mine.
Which brings to mind the fact that I still have to make it official. With taking it easy, I’ve had nothing but time to think of the perfect way to do it, yet nothing feels good enough.
She pulls back, glancing over at my phone on the nightstand. “As much as I want to continue this, aren’t you supposed to be at the arena?”
