Page 102 of Scoring Zone
“I’ll book us tickets,” Tinny interrupts me, reaching for his phone.
Joy bubbles inside me like a tangible thing. “Slow down, Ace,” I tease. “One thing at a time. Make an appointment to see Doc tomorrow, and we’ll plan from there.”
“Whatever shall we do until then?”
“I dreamed of strapping you to this bed.” I lace our fingers together and pull them above his head.
“I’m all yours, Sunshine.”
Epilogue
Austin
The sun’s bright, and I slip my shades on outside the arena. “That went better than I expected,” I admit.
“Yeah?” Gray reaches for my hand but stops himself.
“I could tell my head was better, but Doc is a stickler, and I was afraid he wouldn’t agree.” I’m not cleared yet, but in Doc’s opinion, I should be able to fly in a few weeks, which gives us plenty of time for a vacation.
“It gives us time to really plan it out and make a stop along the way so the flight is shorter.” He’s always one step ahead. Long flights could increase my chances of headaches, dizziness, or even a seizure, and Athens is a ten-hour flight.
“What should we do today?” I grasp his hand and won’t let go when he tries to pull out of my iron grip.
“Tinny, what are you doing?” he asks softly.
“I’m spending the day with my boyfriend and not worrying about things that don’t matter.” My grip loosens because I won’t force him into a public display of affection.
“It matters.” His thumb strokes my hand, and my anxiety melts away.
“Not as much as you.” I change the subject so he can’t argue with me. “I want a normal day like a normal person. Why don’t we stop at the grocery store on the way home? We can get steaks, junk food, and dessert.” Sometimes I wish Finn and Gray had made the statement about our relationship without me. Like, if the decision was out of my hands, I could separate myself from anything negative afterward. It doesn’t make sense, but I just want it done.
He stops to face me and places the back of his hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever, so the only explanation is you’re an alien in my boyfriend’s body.”
I tug him along. “Funny.” I’ve never suggested buying junk food, but life is for living.
We don’t live far, and there’s a grocery store only a couple of blocks away.
“I know you’re not always recognized out in the wild”—He waves his hand around the store as we step inside—“but someone will notice.” His gaze drifts to our linked hands. “If you’re ready to do this, we can talk about how you want to do it.”
“Do you ever get tired of having to plan things with me?” I wheel a cart around and head to the produce section. “I mean, people dissect and analyze everything we do and say. Honestly, it’s not that serious.”
“Since when?” Gray stops in the middle of the aisle with his hands on his hips, challenging me.
“It’s all about perspective and not letting the negative in.” I continue as he frowns in disbelief. “When I was drafted, bloggers said I was a mistake the Enforcers would regret. When I made the All-Star team, a lot of people said I didn’t deserve it. I had a severe concussion diagnosis from both the team doctor andan emergency room doctor, and there are rumors that I faked it because I knew our playoff chances were over with Kenney out.”
Gray’s arms drop to his sides, and his face softens.
“Those things don’t bother me. If they did, I wouldn’t be able to go out on the ice and prove them wrong because I’d be stuck in my head with self-doubt. You mean more to me than hockey, and I don’t care what people say. Maybe it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Maybe it can just be real.”
“What do you mean?” Gray’s gentle doe eyes and smile take my breath away.
“It doesn’t have to be an elaborate, scripted plan. We could do it now. Come here.” I hold my hand out, and he takes it.
“Finn will murder you in your sleep,” he says with a chuckle.
“I’ll have you to protect me.” I take my phone out of my pocket and hold it up for a selfie of us. Right before I click the button, I look at him. Gray gasps when he sees how I’m staring at him because it’s obvious I’m in love with him. And we are wearing the same shirt. Twinning again.
“Tinny.” He sucks in a breath as I open a social media app to post our picture.
