Page 69 of Before We Break Again
I reach for her hand, intertwining our fingers, feeling the warmth and comfort in the simple gesture.“I know.But last night—it was different.It wasn’t perfect, but ...it felt like maybe we’re starting to find our way back.Even if it’s slow.”
She nods, her gaze falling to our joined hands, as if she’s drawing strength from that quiet connection.The light touch of her fingers against mine, the way our hands fit together, makes me feel grounded in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.It’s these small moments that remind me we can still find our rhythm, even when everything else feels uncertain.
“So how are things with you and therapy?”she asks softly, her voice full of concern but gentle.“Do you want to talk about it?”
I scoff lightly, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips.“Leave it to you to start with the easy questions.”My voice carries a mix of frustration and amusement, but I know she’s only trying to help.
“It’s going ...of course,” I add, but there’s so much more beneath the surface.Before I can stop myself, the words start pouring out like a dam breaking.“It’s just ...it’s complicated, you know?My dad, his career—his unsuccessful and yet somehow still successful career put so much pressure on me.Even now, it’s like something I can’t shake.”
I pause, drawing in a breath, feeling the familiar ache of old wounds.“I wish he hadn’t gotten hurt the way he did.He was supposed to have this long, legendary career.He had so many records when he started playing, even Olympic medals.He was unstoppable.And then—then it was just over.One injury, and everything he worked for vanished.”
Her fingers tighten around mine, and I feel her silently urging me to continue.So I do.
“And all he had left was me.His son.The one who could take over, who could carry the torch, who could succeed in all the ways he couldn’t anymore.And I have, haven’t I?I’ve won two cups with different teams.I’ve lived up to his expectations, I’ve done everything he wanted.But sometimes ...sometimes I wonder if it’s all been for him, or if any of it has ever been for me.”
I pause again.It’s hard to admit, but I push through the discomfort.
“If I hadn’t gotten hurt, this year could’ve been my third cup.Another victory, another title to add to the legacy.But those are my victories, right?Not his.I’ve learned to love hockey on my own terms.Skating, the ice ...it’s my life.It’s what I breathe.”
I glance at her, needing her to understand me.“But I’m starting to realize there’s something more I need to learn.At some point, my career—the glory, the championships ...they’ll all be behind me.But my life?My life will continue.It has to.And loving you, loving Dustin ...It shouldn’t be a secret.It shouldn’t be something that could ruin everything.If the world can’t accept me—accept us—then I’ll figure out something else.I won’t lose this.I won’t lose us.”
Her eyes widen just slightly, and in that moment, I know she understands the depth of it.The shift between who I was and who I want to become.The fear of losing the sport I love, but the fiercer fear of losing her, losing us.
I lean forward slowly, mindful of my injured leg, and press my lips to hers, gently at first.Her hand comes up to cradle my face, and I feel her touch seep into me, grounding me.The kiss is soft, tender, a quiet reflection of the promises we’re making to each other.It’s an acknowledgment of the path we’ve chosen to walk together.
The pain in my leg is still there, a dull reminder of my injury, but for a moment, it doesn’t matter.It’s just her and me—us—finding our way back to each other, piece by piece.
She’s wearing my t-shirt, and it hangs loose on her, the fabric brushing against her thighs, but the sight of her in something that’s mine makes my heart race.The soft cotton gives me easy access to her skin, and I can’t resist.I reach for the hem, pushing it up, exposing more of her inch by inch.
Her breath hitches as I lean in, my lips brushing against her neck, trailing soft kisses along her skin.“I missed this,” I murmur against her throat, my voice low and rough.“Is it okay if I touch you?I need to touch you, baby.I need you close.”
“Santos ...yes, please, don’t ask, just ...”she breathes, her hands gripping my shoulders as I move lower, my mouth tasting every inch of her.I want to savor her.I nibble on the soft skin of her collarbone, then move down slowly, taking my time, each kiss deliberate, each touch lingering.
Her fingers dig into my skin, and she arches into me, her voice a mixture of need and command.“Santos ...please.Stop playing and give me what I want.”
I smirk against her skin.“What is it you want, baby?”I ask, my lips trailing over her chest.“Tell me.”
Her breath catches, and I can feel her body trembling under my touch.“I want you to stop teasing,” she says, her voice demanding but breathy.“I want your mouth on me.Now.”
I chuckle softly, my lips brushing over the top of her breast, but I don’t rush.“Patience,” I whisper, sucking gently on her skin, leaving marks in my wake.I move lower, kissing her through the fabric of the shirt before finally pushing it up higher, revealing her bare skin beneath.
When I reach her breasts, I pause, letting my lips hover just above her nipple.Her body tenses, her breathing coming faster, and she arches her back, pressing herself toward me, her frustration clear.
“Please,” she whispers, the word almost a plea.“Don’t make me beg.”
I grin, loving the way she’s both begging and demanding at the same time.“You don’t have to beg,” I murmur, finally letting my lips close around her nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder, drawing a gasp from her.
Her hand tangles in my hair, her grip tightening as I lavish attention on her breasts, sucking, licking, nibbling at her soft skin.“Santos,” she breathes, her voice a mixture of desperation and satisfaction.“More ...I need more.”
I move to the other breast, giving it the same attention, my tongue circling her nipple, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin.She moans, her body arching into me, and I can feel the way she’s completely unraveling beneath my touch.
Every sound she makes drives me to go slower, to make her feel every single second of this.My hand slides down her body, slipping between her legs, and I press my finger against her clit.The moment I make contact, her body jolts, her breath hitching, and a low moan escapes her lips.
“Santos,” she gasps, her grip tightening on my shoulders.“Yes ...just like that.Touch me, make me come.”
I circle her clit slowly at first, teasing her, but the need in her voice makes me push harder, rubbing against her sensitive spot with more intensity.My mouth is still on her breast, sucking, nibbling, while my hand works between her legs.
“You’re so wet,” I murmur against her skin, my voice thick with desire.“So ready for me.”
