Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
This is the only room that I’ve designated as a hockey-career memorabilia space. Photos, trophies—anything special from the past fifteen years is displayed on the walls around me, including a photo of me with Mom, Dad, and Gideon after my first Stanley Cup win.
I fucking love that photo. That was the only Cup win that Mom got to see. She passed a month before we won the second.
She’s staring up at me in this picture, so tiny next to all of us big men, smiling so bright and proud, it makes me want to puff my chest out, even now.
Christ, I miss her.
That woman is the one who taught me that it’s okay to love people. To let them in and show affection without holding back. To trust. Aside from my biological mother, Debbie James is the first person I ever told that I love them. She was the tiniest person in stature, but she loved so big, she might as well have been eight feet tall, and she was not afraid to shower all of us with that love. She left a gaping wound behind when she departed this world.
I understand why Dad never got over it.
Because now I have a woman in my life who’s so much the same. She loves big, and the way that I love her would be terrifying if I hadn’t had Mom in my life as a young man. Because Willow deserves all of me, and everything I can give her, just the way Dad did with Mom.
And if I ever lost Willow, it would fucking kill me.
I let my gaze roam around the space, pulling out memories of a career that I’m damn proud of. It was everything that I could have ever hoped for. Being here, in the city that’s been my home away from home for so many years, has been great this week. I loved being on the ice with my guys, and showing my gratitude to my team, the coaching staff, and the city as a whole was the closure I needed.
Because although I was already considering retirement, I didn’t get to go out on my terms. I left the sport because of a tragedy.
And this week, I got to say goodbye.
I’ll keep the penthouse for now because I’ll need to come here periodically for the foster kids charity that I’m now working with, but I’ll likely eventually sell it.
It’s not home anymore.
Montana is home.
The Triple Creek Ranch is where I belong.
And wherever Willow is? Well, that’s where my heart is. Because that woman owns me, body and soul.
I’m ready to go home, with Wills and Aiden, and get back to work. Sure, this has been great, but waking up with the sun, working my land, breathing that air—that’s what I need.
I glance over to the doorway as Willow steps into it.
Speaking of what I need.
She leans her shoulder on the doorjamb, crosses her arms over her chest. She grabbed the shirt I wore to the party tonight and only fastened two of the buttons to close it around her. It’s way too big on her.
“You okay?” That sexy voice is soft and makes my cock come to life.
She’s so fucking beautiful. Her hair is down, around her shoulders. Her face is clean of makeup, and her lips look so fucking kissable.
“Come here,” I say. “Close and lock the door behind you.”
She lifts an eyebrow but does as she’s told and then pads across the room to me. I push the chair back so she can get between me and the desk, and then she sits on it, and I scoot up between her legs and wrap my arms around her ass. When my forehead lands on her chest, she pushes her fingers into my hair and kisses my head, and fuck that feels good.
“Hey,” she says softly. “I’m still your best friend, you know.”
“Yeah. I know.”
She scratches her nails along my scalp, and it makes me groan.
“You can talk to me.”
“I’m okay.”
She kisses my head again, and I soak her in. “If you’re ever not okay, you’ll talk to me?”
“Yes, baby.” I unfasten the two buttons and part my shirt, exposing her soft, creamy skin, and lean in to kiss her breastbone, right between her spectacular tits. “You’re fucking incredible. I love your body. Every inch of it.”
She hums and kisses my head again, still combing through my hair with her fingers.
I drag my hand up her side, over her breast, and then up until it circles her throat. Seeing my tattooed hand around her neck does things to me.
I run my thumb over her plump bottom lip, and then she gets sassy and pulls it between her lips, grazing it with her teeth, and I can’t help the smile that comes as an idea forms.
I stand, but before I can turn her around, her fingertips drag over the tattoo on my ribs.