Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Dad is silent for a moment, watching us, and then he mutters a curse. "You're wrong about one thing, Monroe."
Kingston's brows furrow in confusion.
"If she chose you, it's because you are good enough for her. She sees it in you. You need to see it in yourself, too. Otherwise, you're settin' yourself up for a lifetime of wondering if the press and the fans are right every goddamn time they stick their noses where they don't belong and start askin' why you. And believe me, they will ask. The brighter her star burns, the more they'll ask. Don't leave them room to do it. Match her, every goddamn day. That's the man she deserves. Can you be that man for her?"
"Yes." Kingston clears his throat. "Hell, yes."
Dad stares at him for a moment and then nods. "Then I guess I got what I needed here. You two have my blessin'." His eyes narrow, as if he just considered something. "But if you're thinkin' about getting her pregnant right now, you and I are going to have problems, Monroe. You need to give her time to enjoy what she's built before you plant your kid in her. She didn't work this hard just for you to replace her dreams with your own desires. And you need to have a goddamn ring on her finger before you get her pregnant."
I see the weight fall from Kingston's shoulders. I hear his sharp intake of breath, like he can't believe his luck. I'm not entirely sure I believe it either. My dad just commandeered my uncle's jet, flew across the country, walked in on us half naked…and is still giving this his blessing? Who is this man, and what did he do with the overprotective, crazy person I grew up with?
"I can do that, sir," Kingston vows.
Dad just nods, wearing this expression I've never seen on him—like he's proud, resigned, and emotional all at the same time. That look on his face squeezes my heart in a vise.
I throw my arms around him in a fierce hug. "Thank you," I whisper, my voice choked. "Thank you for loving me enough to give him a chance."
"Loving you is the easy part, baby girl," he murmurs, patting me on the back. "It's realizing that you're all grown up that's hard as hell."
I choke on a sob, clinging to him.
He holds me for a minute before gently nudging me into Kingston's arms. They wrap around me, pulling me up against the hard wall of his chest. I cling to him, listening to his heart hammer beneath my ear, my heart so full I think it might burst.
"This is my dream," I whisper, just for him.
His body shudders against mine, and I think maybe it's his dream, too.
Chapter Ten
Kingston
My blades shriek across the ice while the puck rides against my stick. The noise of the crowd swells and recedes as I whip past the blue line on a breakaway, my legs and lungs burning.
For a split second, it's just me and the goalie, his eyes wide behind his mask as he tries to prepare for me to take the shot.
And then my gaze flickers toward the bench, and I see Evie standing right behind it, her gorgeous eyes locked on me through the glass, her hands clenched, her mouth open like she's mid-prayer.
Goddamn, she's beautiful.
I catch a rut in the ice, and my left skate flies out from under me. I don't even have time to brace before I go down hard, sliding across the fucking ice exactly like I did the day we met. My stick clatters away, the puck skipping loose.
The crowd groans so loud I'm pretty sure it shakes the glass.
I taste a bit of blood, but I don't look away from her, not even for a second.
Her hands fly to her mouth, her eyes wide and glittering. Her face cracks into the brightest damn smile I've ever seen. She's laughing, the helpless, can't-believe-it kind of laugh that sets my whole system on fire.
God, it's ridiculous. I wanted to impress her. Instead, I'm face-down on the ice. Again. And yet, that look on her face still has me feeling like I'm floating.
The goal horn blares.
"What the fuck?"
I push up on my elbows in time to see Harlan at the net, the puck still vibrating the mesh.
Holy shit.
We still got the fucking goal.
Royce skates over, grabs my jersey, and yanks me upright. "You gotta stay on your feet in front of her, motherfucker," he says, laughing and thumping my helmet with his gloved fist.
All I can do is laugh in response because that's never going to happen. I'm going to keep falling for her, so fucking hard I leave a goddamn crater.
But maybe one day, I'll actually be able to skate in front of her again.
Maybe.
She's waiting outside the locker room for me as soon as I step out. Her face breaks into a big grin, her baby blues bright.