Page 124 of Perfectly Complicated
“You know, you didn’t just help me see the holidays differently.” I kiss her head before resting my cheek against her hair, thinking of how different this year is from every other season past. “You accepted me—despite all my complaining about the commercialism, the fake cheer, and the endless decorations. You let me be me.”
I look around the cabin—at the decorated plant, at Aria jubilantly ripping paper, and Janie curled against me wearing my jersey.
“Next year,” I say, “we’re getting a bigger tree and tons of tinsel. The whole house—lights, garland, the works. And a stocking for Aria that’s twice the size of mine.”
Janie turns toward me. “You’re already planningnextChristmas?”
“Yeah. We’re a family now. Might as well startarguing about how many lights aretoomany.” The words roll off my tongue like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I tilt her face toward mine. “Every Christmas for the rest of our lives.”
As my lips meet hers, I realize something incredible.
I don’t just like Christmas anymore.I love it.
THIRTY-FIVE
Epilogue
JANIE
New Year’s Eve Game - One Week Later
If you’d have asked how I felt about hockey a few months ago, I would’ve answered:It’s complicated.Kind of like love.
But now that I’m standing outside the Ice House Arena, wearing Rourke’s jersey—officially, this time—with Aria bundled in her tiny Crushers matching one, I feel the familiar flutter of nerves in my stomach. The crowd moves around us in a sea of Crushers teal and red and black, and am startled to realize I’m not wondering what I’m doing here anymore.
Sure,I’m a little out of place. I’m used to watching games from the comfort of my living room, completely transfixed every time number 18 touches the puck. But tonight feels like stepping into his world completely. And I’m more than ready to take this step.
“You okay?” Jaz asks, appearing at my elbow with Brax’s jersey on under her coat. “You seem a little overwhelmed.”
“I’m fine,” I say, adjusting Aria on my hip. “Just taking it all in.” I knew the Crushers were popular, but I didn’t realize the size of their crowd. I should’ve known based on the attention that Rourke gets around town. Since Christmas, a dozen people haveasked him to sign jerseys and take selfies when we were out shopping—and he’s always happy to oblige, especially when it’s a child.
Jaz leads me inside the Ice House Arena next, where we take an elevator up to the box seats. The WAGs box is swankier than I imagined—comfortable seating with the perfect view of the ice, a private area with food and drinks where I don’t have to worry about Aria getting overwhelmed by the crowd, and staff who deliver whatever we need.
Putting protective earphones over Aria’s ears, we settle into a seat as Aria watches the crowd below us. I scan the ice for number 18, and my stomach flips when he bolts out of the tunnel. “Look, Aria.” I point as the players take the ice for warm-ups. “There he is.”
From a distance and surrounded by his teammates, I can pick out Rourke immediately. There’s something about the way he moves on the ice, like he was born wearing skates. The crowd roars, the lights gleam off his helmet, and I can’t help smiling.
He knows this is our first game, and I tried not to make a big deal about it, but he insisted. “This is your first game. I want it to be special,” he told me before he left tonight, wearing his game-day suit. “Every time I glance at the crowd, I want to see my girls.”
I straightened his tie, resting my hands on his lapels. “You’re so handsome,” I whispered, beaming up at him. “Now go show me why you love this game so much.”
Watching him now, seeing the joy on his face, I understand why he wanted tonight to be special. This isn’t just about hockey—it’s about sharing a part of himself with me—maybe the most important part. Because this is his world.
Somehow, over the chaos of all these fans, Rourke finds us in the WAGs box. He reaches his glove in the air in a silent wave, flashing a smile that reminds me why I’d fall for him all over again. Then he skates over to the boards directly below our section, stopping in a spray of ice.
His eyes crinkle when he smiles, and my cheeks heat when I realize everyone is turning to see who Rourke is staring at.
“Love you,” I mouth to him.
He brings his fingers together to make a heart with them, placing it over his own, before skating away to rejoin his team.
I press a hand to my chest, grinning like a fool in love. Leave it to Rourke Riley to make a heart on the ice and still somehow look manly doing it.
“Whatever you did to him,” Jaz says, settling into the seat beside me with Rosie, “keep it up. Brax says he’s been on fire in practice ever since you two officially got together.”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing I’ve done.”
“Girl, please.” Jaz leans back, smirking like she doesn’t believe a word of it. “That man just blew you a kiss in front of thousands of people. He’s a changed man—all because of you.”
