Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
"Maybe he's good for you, too," he murmurs.
I close my eyes, letting his words sink in, and then I smile. "No," I say, my voice crystal clear. "He's the best thing for me."
It's nothing but the truth. I realized that sometime on Christmas Day, when I was in his arms, happy in a way I'd never been despite how miserable I felt. He's the best thing for me.
"Jesus," Trent rumbles.
But Coach just nods like my answer doesn't surprise him.
Trent and I file out of his office in silence, but don't even make it three steps down the hall before Trent has me pressed up against the cinderblock wall, his eyes wild as they meet mine.
"Did you mean it?"
I don't even hesitate. "Yes," I whisper. "I mean it."
His face splits into a slow, perfect grin, and for the first time all morning, I'm pretty sure I might actually survive another day as his physical therapist and his girlfriend.
"Good," he says, pulling me in by the waist and pressing his forehead to mine. "Because I plan to keep being the best thing for you, Sunshine."
"Deal," I whisper.
Iwake with the sun on New Year's Eve morning with Trent spooned behind me in his big bed, one arm draped across my waist like I might escape if he lets go. His beard scratches my shoulder with every exhale, and his hair is a tangle against the white pillow.
He looks softer when he's asleep. Younger. Not like the menace who throws his weight around the ice and threatens to murder anyone who even breathes wrong at his teammates.
He stirs, nuzzles closer, then groans and mumbles something unintelligible into my skin. His morning wood is impressive, pressing into my lower back with single-minded determination.
I try not to laugh, but the sound escapes anyway.
He grunts, then blinks awake, one green eye peeking over my shoulder.
"Morning, Sunshine," he rasps, his voice gritty with sleep.
"Morning," I reply, rolling over to face him. His arm tightens around me, like he's afraid I'll vanish. I know the feeling.
Aside from the one away game they had, we've spent every night together since the day before Christmas Eve, and I still wake up expecting to find that it was all just a dream. Except it's not. He's very much real. And this is our new reality.
Best. Life. Ever.
For a moment, we just lay there, soaking in the quiet. It's just us, tangled up and lazy, with nowhere to be and nothing to do today except exist in this weird, perfect little bubble.
He stares at me like he's memorizing every detail.
"You're staring," I say, but I'm guilty of the same.
He shrugs. "I like looking at you."
I bite my lip, then reach up to smooth a strand of hair from his forehead. "You're ridiculous," I tell him, but my voice is soft.
He grins, then ducks his head to kiss my neck, slow and lazy. "Move in with me," he says, the words muffled against my skin. "Marry me."
My heart stutters.
"What?" I pull back, propping myself up on one elbow. "Did you just propose to me? It's only been a week!"
He rolls onto his back, stretching like a very smug cat. "I want to wake up with you every day." He turns his head to look at me, his expression suddenly serious. "I'm all in, Dani. Are you?"
It's so casual, so matter-of-fact, that I just blink at him for a second, trying to process. And then I realize that he's absolutely serious.
Of course he is. This is the guy who almost died of an allergic reaction and still declared my fudge the best ever, who faked a back injury for weeks just to hang out in my office, who defended my honor to Coach, and then stood there, ready to burn down his own career if it meant saving mine. This is the guy who let me see every part of him, messy and raw, and then let me give him back the same.
I think about the last weekâthe way he skipped Christmas to take care of me when I was sick, the way he makes me breakfast every morning, the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing in the universe worth seeing.
I've never belonged anywhere. Not really. But here, in this bed, in this moment, I realize that home isn't a place.
It's a person. It's him.
I expel a sharp breath. "That's awfully fast," I say, but my voice is shaking a little.
He pulls me closer, his palm flat against my lower back. "I don't care. I've wasted enough time in my life chasing my career because I thought it was the only thing I needed. I know better now. I need you. And I need you in my bed and in my life, every damn day. That won't ever change. I love you."