While his grin is still the same one that I remember when we were teenagers, he’s different. He’s taller than me, which says a lot. His shoulders are hulking, and he’s not the small kid from way back when. He’s grown out his dark hair, his beard is longer than the baby face he used to have, and I guess from the outside looking in, he probably looks a bit intimidating.
“I haven’t seen you around town in a long time, you asshole. I know you’re all famous now, rookie of the year,” he taunts me, reaching out and pushing my shoulder lightly.
“I’m back for a while, with Ma being sick and all,” I say, clearing my throat.
He nods. “I get it. I’m sorry about your Ma. I wish none of you were going through this right now. How does it feel to be back here?”
“I feel like being back is different than when I left. Coming from Chicago to a town with only one stoplight. It’s a whole different world up there. But tell me about you, Sheriff, what have you been up to, you know besides fighting crime?”
“Yeah, since there’s so much of it in this town.” He laughs, the deep baritone echoing off the walls of the small store. “Honestly, not much man, helping my dad out on the farm, trying to stay busy, you know… Hey, speaking of… we have this charity hockey team going on-”
My brow furrows. “Hockey?You’replaying hockey?”
Growing up, hockey wasn’t Lane’s thing. He was into bulls, until… the injury. The one that changed his life, and a lot of other people’s. It was all the town talked about, until I got drafted.
Chuckling, he shrugs. “Yeah, they needed a coach or two for the kids’ team, and then we all got together and decided to host a charity game with the guys, with all the proceeds going to charity. You should come. Chris will be retiring soon; he’s got a bad leg.”
“I appreciate it, man, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town. Just until Ma is done with chemo and feeling better, then I’m headed back to Chicago. I’ll definitely hit you up if I’m still in town. Don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve got twins now. Both girls.”
His eyes widen. “No shit?”
I nod and pull my phone out of my pocket, flipping it around to show him a photo I snapped of the girls last night, giggling on their tummies.
“They look just like you, Adams. Congratulations.”
A grin tugs at my lips; I am fucking proud of my baby girls.
“Nah, they’re as gorgeous as their mom,” I tell him.
The radio clipped to his collar goes off, and I faintly hear the dispatcher calling through the speaker.
“Gotta run, but it was good to see you, man. You know where to find me if you change your mind about the youth hockey league. You know what they say… there’s no place like home.” He tosses me a sly grin over his shoulder, waves goodbye to Russ, and walks out the door.
Hm.
He’s not wrong… The longer I’m at home, the more I feel differently. I used to think hockey was my one-way ticket out of here, and lately, I’m beginning to realize that now… it feels different. Knowing what I know now, experiencing the things I have, maybe I would’ve chosen differently.
Later that night, I’m sitting on the porch, drinking Ma’s famous sweet tea, when the screen door opens and Emery steps out. She’s wearing one of my old t-shirts, and a pair of cut-off shorts that make my fucking mouth water. Her tanned legs on display, complete with the hot pink polish on her toes.
She’s wearing a tiny, thin gold anklet that’s got a hockey stick on it. Apparently, she, Holland, and Maddison got matching ones, and they never take them off. Something about “repping their men.”
Not gonna lie, it’s hot as fuck. Just like seeing my ring on her finger, even though the lines have blurred from the pretend engagement. It hasn’t felt fake in a very long time, and somewhere along the way, it became very real to both of us.
“Finally got them both down.”
She saunters over and takes a seat in my lap, resting her head against my shoulder. I inhale, breathing her in, thankful for a moment of alone time, just the two of us.
“Whatcha thinking about, Adams?”
She sits up and looks at me, guiding my chin toward her, so she can kiss me, so soft and so sweet I fucking ache.
Sometimes I can’t even believe I’m the lucky motherfucker who gets to call Emery Davidson mine. That I get to be Charlotte and Quinn’s daddy.
“Lots of things,” I say, rubbing my nose along the slender slope of her jaw. “Specifically that I’d like to get you naked, right now.”
I don’t miss the sharp intake of her breath, no matter how quiet it is. Or the way her pupils are dilated when she looks up at me. I drain the rest of the tea in one gulp and lean set it down on the porch. Once I do, I thread my hands in her hair and pull her mouth to mine, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.
Her tongue tangles with mine as she shifts in my lap, no doubt, squeezing her legs together to stop the ache that’s started.