I slide across the ice, my gaze wandering up to the team’s family and friends’ booth. I can’t stop the grin that splits my face when I see Bella sitting up there, laughing at whatever Mason is saying. Milly waves to me and I kiss my fingers before extending them toward her. She does the same back.
It’s something Layla and I used to do before the puck drop at home games. My body relaxes some now that Milly has picked up her mom’s tradition. Maia brought the kids to a handful of my home games last season but the loss of their mom was still too fresh. They would fall into long periods of silence after each game that I stopped asking if they wanted to come.
Mason surprised me yesterday when he asked if he and Milly could bring Bella to a game. “I think she’d like it, Dad,” he said seriously.
I grinned at my little heartbreaker and agreed. I love how much the twins care for Bella. The three of them have their own relationship and while I thought I’d feel left out, instead, I’m often relieved that Milly and Mason have connected so strongly with Bella.
That’s why now, when I look up, three of my favorite people are rocking my number and dancing in their seats. Indy, Claire, and Chloe are also in the booth and I know Bella and the twins are in good hands. Mase waves and I wink, smirking at Bella, before taking my position.
“It’s good to have them back,” Noah says to me over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” I agree, my gaze darting back to the booth for one more look. This time, my attention is snagged by Bella. She left her dark hair loose and it tumbles down her jersey and around her shoulders. Her eyes looks brighter, bolder, fringed by long lashes.
A bolt of excitement shoots through me. I like that she’s here. I want her to watch me play. It’s ridiculous really but I suddenly feel like a college kid again, wanting to impress the girl I was crushing on with my moves on the ice. I should already know it’s my moves off the ice that count but that old, competitive mindset, with the need to show off for a woman, flares to life.
I shift into my stance moments before the puck drops. My mind clears, my body tightens, and my play takes over. I focus all of my energy, all of my drive, on the game.
It’s necessary because Vancouver comes to play. The game is intense, just bordering on nasty, with a couple hard hits and under-the-belt roughness.
In the third period, all hell breaks out when one of the Eagles’ players, Jace Edwards, skates by chirping off, “You gonna put a ring on it or just knock her up, Scotch? Don’t you think your daughter deserves more?”
Shit. Noah’s expression changes in an instant and I understand it immediately. Jace is talking shit about his woman, about the mother of his child, and there’s no way Noah is going to let that slide. Plus, fuck Jace for bringing Emmaline into it.
My limbs lock down and anger blazes through me. Talking shit is one thing but you don’t involve a man’s family. Ever. So when Noah pulls back his arm and lets a jab fly, I jump into the mix. I grapple with their center until he’s got a bloody nose and I can feel the side of my jaw swelling up.
“Shit,” East mutters amid the ref’s whistles. He pulls me back by the neck of my jersey, shaking his head. “Let me see your face.”
I spit out a wad of blood before I catch Noah’s eye. Even though Scotch looks fucking murderous, when he sees my expression, he grins. I smirk back. Then we both start laughing and Easton swears again.
“Scotch! Ryan!” Coach Phillips bellows from the bench.
I skate over and try to school my expression. Damn, I shouldn’t be laughing. But it felt good to step up for my teammate, for his family. It was the right thing to do in the moment and it’s exactly the kind of reaction I would have had if someone said shit about Layla. Or Bella.
Bella! What the hell will she think of my fighting?
Layla used to call me a hothead when we first met but a lot of my reactionary tendencies wore off the longer we were together, especially after we had the twins.
The twins. My stomach sinks and I turn to look in the stands. I’m prepared to meet their horrified or disappointed expressions. Instead, Mason’s fist pumping and Milly’s bouncing in her seat. She flashes me a thumbs-up. At that, Bella laughs and I smile and we have a quick conversation through our eyes.
Nice hit, hers say.
Thanks. Glad you’re not pissed.
Nah, he deserved it.
“Ryan!” Coach snaps again. I turn back to the team, take my scolding in stride, and get back on the ice.
“I fucking hate Edwards,” Scotch mutters to me. “Thanks, man.”
“Got your back, Scotch,” I reply. “Now let’s finish this.”
The team goes all in for the final period and Noah scores a buzzer beater, securing our win of 3-2. He flips Edwards off and by the shit-eating grin on his face, I know the win must feel even better.
The team slaps his back in congratulations and we head to the locker room to celebrate. I always hate playing the Eagles. They’re notorious for shit talking and last season, Noah got into it with Edwards too.
“Coming to Taps?” Sims asks, as I leave the shower.
“Nah, man. Going home to my family.”
“I saw the kids in the booth. What’re they gonna think of their old man fighting?”
I snort. “You always protect your team,” I tell him. It’s something I explained early on to Milly and Mason. While Layla tried to instill them with the good sense to do the right thing, to use their words instead of their fists, I tacked on that sometimes, fists are necessary. That you always protect your own—family, friends, teammates. No matter what.
I mean, I definitely don’t want my kids to see me fighting. I don’t want them to think I’m a hothead either. But I do want them to know the importance of sticking up for the people you care about.
Sims nods slowly, thinking that over. “Good game, Ryan.”
“You too, kid.” I close my locker and shoulder my bag. “See you tomorrow.”
“Have a good one.”
I wave to the guys and say my farewells before heading out of the locker room. My grin splits my face the second I spot Bella and the twins.
“Daddy!” my kids shout, racing toward me. Bella hangs back, offering up a shy smile that I return.
My arms wrap around my little rascals who pepper me with questions, mostly about my fight with the Eagles player.
“You busted him good, Dad. His nose bled,” Mase says seriously.
Bella frowns over his head but I chuckle, seeing the same disapproving look that Layla used to give.
I drop my bag and squat down in front of my kids. “You should never start a fight,” I tell them seriously. “But if one of your people, your friends, your family members, each other”—I gesture between them—“is in trouble and a fight breaks out then—”
“You finish it,” my kids say in unison.
“Yep,” I agree, grinning at Bella’s eye roll. “Just don’t let Bella catch you.” I stand up.
Bella swats at me and I laugh, catching her hand and pulling her toward me. “You’re not going to congratulate me on not getting my ass handed to me? You know, I could have been that Eagles’ player’s dad,” I joke.
She rolls her eyes again but this time, it’s playful. She bites back her smile but her eyes blaze with amusement. After weeks of witnessing her hurt, it’s pretty damn nice to see merriment in her gaze.
“Some dad, encouraging his kids to fight,” she mutters.
I laugh, tossing an arm around her shoulders and steering my little family toward the parking lot. I note the curious way Claire glances at me and the interest in Indy’s eyes as I pass them. I tip my chin in their direction and they both wave hello.
For a second, a flare of unease rolls through me. Will they know Bella and I are a thing? Is it too soon? Will they judge it? But then I spot Chloe and the sincere happiness in her expression, the warmth in her hello, eases some of my worry.
Of course my teammates, and their women, will be happy for me. Bella and I aren’t doing anything wrong. We’re friends. We’re more than friends. We’re…us. I don’t need to label it. I don’t need to explain it. I just need to be here for it. For her.
I pull her closer into my side and she shoots me a glance. I smile at her. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“You played one hell of a game,” she admits and I laugh.
“Here.” Bella tosses me a bag of frozen peas after tucking the twins into bed.
I lift an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Put it on your jaw. Maybe it’ll help the swelling.”
“He didn’t hit that hard.”
She snorts and shakes her head. “Please? Do it for me. I hate seeing the bruise.” She wrinkles her nose.
My mouth drops open. “Bella Andrews, is that concern I detect in your voice? And here I thought you were disapproving of my parenting style.”
“You shouldn’t tell the kids to fight,” she retorts, plopping down next to me on the couch and kicking her feet up on the coffee table.
“I didn’t. I told them to finish it,” I explain, holding the peas to my face. Not that I’d admit it but it feels good against my hot skin.
“Same difference. But I get it,” she adds after a minute. “You’re a team. What did that guy say to Scotch anyway?”
I fill her in on the details, loving how her expression morphs from skeptical to outrage. “He mentioned his daughter? Emmaline?”
I nod. “See, I had to get involved.”
“Yes, you did,” she agrees, crossing her arms and huffing out a huge breath.
I chuckle. “You’re cute when you’re heated, Bella.”
She looks up quickly, her lips parting.
I know she’s thrown by me calling her cute. To be honest, for a second, so am I. But it’s the truth. She’s adorable, petite and tiny, getting all worked up on behalf of one of my friends. Her cheeks blush a delicious shade of pink and her eyes widen, shimmering when they’re usually clouded over. Bright and open when I’m used to seeing hurt and emptiness.
A thrill rocks through me. I could look away. I could scoot over on the couch. I should let her take the lead and set the tone for whatever comes next. Instead, I raise my hand to cup the side of her face. “You’re not just cute. You’re beautiful, Bella.”
She runs her tongue across her bottom lip. For a moment, I wonder if she’s holding her breath. “James.”
“Did you have fun tonight?”
She nods. “I liked watching you play,” she admits, leaning the tiniest bit into my touch.
But I feel it and hope flares in my chest. I latch onto that and turn toward her fully. “I liked having you there.”
Her hand comes up and wraps around my wrist. I’m not sure whether she means to remove my hand or anchor it but for a breath, we both sit still, neither daring to move a muscle.
“What are we doing?” she whispers.
“I want to kiss you, Bella,” I admit the truth. The truth that’s been poking at me for weeks. A truth I’ve tried to deny, tried to overlook, but I don’t want to anymore. Instead, I want to taste her lips, run my fingers along the lines of her face, and relive a bit of our night together.
Her inhale is sharp but she doesn’t pull away and I take that as a good sign. Her eyes are blown, desire, need, and worry flaring in their depths. “If we do this…it could get messy.” Her eyes trail from my eyes to my lips.
She’s right. We’re about to play with fire. How could we not get burned? But—
“Messy is nothing compared to what we’ve been through,” I mutter back, closing the space between our mouths.
She watches me for a moment before her eyes flutter closed and she lifts her chin the tiniest bit to meet my kiss. Awareness rushes through me as my mouth hovers a millimeter away from hers. This isn’t a drunken night filled with painful memories. This is a step forward, together. My skin tingles and my heart hammers. Am I ready for this? So slow it’s almost painful, my lips meet hers. I kiss her slowly. Sweetly. Once. Twice, her bottom lip. Three times.
And then, the sweet morphs into a heat that consumes me.
My hands hold the sides of her face. Her arms snake around my neck and back, pulling me closer. She shifts into my frame until our limbs twist together. I tilt my head and angle hers, deepening our connection, as our mouths meet in an explosion of fireworks.
My eardrums ring and a flush of heat, of desire so potent my hands shake, rushes through me. Wild, uninhibited, desperately, like I’ll never get enough.
I want Bella Andrews with a ferocity I’ve never experienced. Not just her body. Not just tonight. But all of her. Even the broken parts she tries to hide.
It feels like the past two months have been one long stretch of foreplay, culminating in this grand finale. Our coming together.
Our tongues duel. Bella moves up on her knees, swinging a leg over my lap and straddling me. I groan as she lowers herself, grinding against my rock-hard length. My hands drop to her waist, squeezing and kneading her skin.
She moans, pressing her breasts into my chest as I kiss her long and hard.
“Daddy!” Milly shrieks.
We both break apart, panting. Bella’s eyes are hazy, clouded over with a sheen of lust. I’m sure mine look the same.
“Bella!” Milly hollers again.
“Shit,” I mutter, knowing from her voice that she’s had a nightmare. “I’m right here, Milly,” I holler, gently placing Bella next to me on the couch. Uncertainty flares in her eyes and I shake my head. “I’ll be right back, Bella. But don’t do that.”
“Do what?” She frowns.
“Second-guess this. It’s for real,” I tell her before jogging up the stairs to calm Milly.
After I settle my daughter, I return to an empty living room. For a second, a swell of disbelief, followed by anger, rushes through me. Did she try to ghost me again, in my own home? But then I hear Bella humming in the kitchen.
I enter and relax when I see her pouring two mugs of tea.
She looks up and smiles. “It’s not exactly hot and heavy but…tea?”
I dip my head. “Please.” I sit at the kitchen island. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Bella Andrews.”
“Back at ya, James Ryan.” She places a mug in front of me.
I take a sip, wincing when it burns my tongue.
“James?”
“Hm?” I look up.
“What do we do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you kissed me…”
“I plan to do it again,” I tell her the truth.
Amusement laced with excitement flares across her face. She dips her head for a moment, biting her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s trying to school her expression. Her sweetness makes me smile. I move my mug over, waiting for her to say something.
“That right?” she says finally and I laugh.
“Bella, we’re doing it all backwards. We slept together, live together, and now had our first real kiss.”
She laughs with me. “True. But, if I’m being honest, doing things in the right order didn’t exactly work out for me.” She smiles but it fades and she looks down, toying with the handle of her mug. She raises her head, her voice hesitant. “What do you think this is?”
I look at her for a long beat, noting the way her hands fidget, the way she can’t meet my eyes. She’s scared of taking this next step and I don’t blame her, I’m scared too. Still, excitement thrums through my veins and for a moment, I embrace the recklessness that courses through me. Maybe I don’t want to know what comes next. Maybe I like the anticipation, the adventure, of not knowing. “Real,” I say finally. “Whatever happens or doesn’t, this is real, Bella.”
She grins at my answer. Reaching over, she laces our fingers together and squeezes. “For me too, James.”
“Good.” I smile back before a thought zips through my mind. In the past, I wouldn’t voice it but now, I’m too old, experienced too much, to not be upfront. “But please don’t ever ghost me again, Bella. If you’re unsure of something or worried, just… talk to me.” I try to keep my voice light but I know from her expression that she hears the truth, the need for honesty, in my tone.
She leans forward and brushes a kiss over my lips. “Okay.”
“Okay.”