by Avery Flynn
"I'm sorry. I should have. Instead, I panicked over not getting the job and let that panic overtake everything. I'm still not sure what's going to happen on the job front, but I as long as I have another chance with you, everything else will fall into place."
"I meant what I said about what's mine is yours. I know you're worried about a job, and I think I can help with that too." He reached into the box and then withdrew an envelope with the Bedlam's logo. "Here. Open it."
"What's this?" She tugged out and unfolded the single sheet of paper and her brows rose and eyes rounded as she read the contents. Finally, she raised her gaze to his. "The team's creative director wants to meet with me to discuss bringing me on board."
Rod nodded. "I heard they had an opening in that department, so I talked to her about you and how talented you are. And I showed her the sketch you drew of me. She was impressed, and then Dylan and the guys mentioned to her that they all wanted you to do sketches of them too. I also told her that you'd done the paintings here and that you'd created the graphics and logo for the shop. After all that, she really wanted to meet you."
Fresh tears shimmered in her eyes, making the green sparkle. Arielle dropped the letter on the table and then wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. "Thank you. I can't thank you enough. Just to have this opportunity is amazing."
He hugged her tight, soaking up how good it felt to have her back in his arms. "Working for the team is kind of a family thing. It's only right that you'll be doing that too."
She pulled back and that pretty blush rose high in her cheeks. "I've been trying to come up with the right words to say to you for days. Ben helped me see that I was over-thinking and over-worrying. I'm sorry."
"Just promise that going forward, we'll keep everything in the open. No worrying in secret."
"I promise to come to you and talk to you about everything, before things can get out of control."
"Good. You know, the media has had a chance to meet my family. They even met Ben and Jacob the day we had the Cup here. But they haven't had a chance to meet you, and I really want them to." Holding her hand, he grabbed his mask and backed toward the door. "Maybe this will make up for that."
Hopefully, everyone was in place. He pushed the door open.
The coffee shop was filled with their families and friends, members of the Bedlam, the reporters from the local paper and television news station who had attended the ceremony at the high school, and the shop's customers. Lights flashed and the attention of fifty people rested squarely upon them.
Arielle jerked back. "What's all this?"
Rod tightened his hold on her hand. "Everyone, I'd like to formally introduce Arielle. She's the love of my life, and the woman surrounded by the heart on my goalie mask." He lifted the mask high and waited while more people snapped pictures. "My thanks to the Bedlam organization for giving me an opportunity to play in the city I love, for the fans I love, and to live here with my family and the woman I love."
He set the mask on the counter and turned to face her. "I do love you, Ari."
"I love you, too." Her voice soothed his ravaged soul. "And I want you. In my life. By my side. With me. Always."
"You can have me. And I'll have you. I'm yours forever." His hand trembled when he brushed her cheek, and he bent until his lips found hers. At the touch, he was both weakened and made stronger.
Catcalls and applause rose around them. Laughing, he rested their foreheads together. "I know you don't like to be pushed into the spotlight, but I wanted to tell the world how happy I am to have you in my life."
She smiled, and her cheeks flamed red. "I don't mind as long as you're with me."
He banded his arms around her, holding her as close to his heart as possible. "There's no place else I'd rather be."
11
Six Months Later…
Some men searched for booze to quell nerves, but Rod had learned there was very little coffee couldn't fix.
He poured the hot brew into the heart-shaped mugs he'd borrowed from Ben, added cream and sugar to both, and then extra sugar into the one for his sweetheart.
Today was the day. Hopped up from nerves and anticipation and excitement, he patted his front pocket, where he'd stowed the ring he'd purchased.
With the world decorated in red and pink and hearts, Valentine's Day was the perfect day to ask Arielle to be his wife.
And speaking of perfect, life was just about that way. Arielle loved her job working with the Bedlam's creative department. She had moved in with him after Thanksgiving, and being with her every morning and every night made him the happiest guy in the world. They were still living in the house he shared with Dylan. Eventually, they'd get their own place, but for now, he was enjoying the hell out of being on the same team as his brother, and sharing rides to and from the rink.
Being the starting goaltender for the Bedlam was a dream job, and he busted his ass both in games and at practice, working hard to make sure he deserved to be in the net. The best part, besides lining up on the ice next to Dylan for the National Anthem and being there to celebrate every goal together, was seeing their dad's face when they both wore the Bedlam black and blue for the first time. Dad had been beaming and telling everyone about his two boys, and how having them both on his old team had been his dream.
More than one dream had come true with his signing with the team.
And Rod's own dream-come-true was sound asleep upstairs. Being with Arielle made every day and every experience more vibrant. They brought out the best in each other. He breathed deep, happiness beating in his chest like a drum. He'd never thought he'd be smiling stupidly at the way the heart mugs fit together, but here he was, doing just that.
Dylan strolled into the room, shrugging into his coat. He eyed the mugs and grinned. "Ready to do it?"
Rod smiled back and patted his pocket again. "More than ready. Thanks again for giving us some privacy for this." When he'd shared his plans with Dylan, his brother had volunteered to make himself scarce. Dylan was the best. Rod owed him for a lot, but mostly for knowing what he needed without Rod having to ask. Someday, he'd pay him back.
"No problem. I'm heading over to Kelsey's, then we'll be at Mom and Dad's later for brunch. Ben said he'll be there with Jacob too. So, when you guys call with your good news, we'll all be in one place to help you celebrate."
"I'm happy the schedule worked out with us having today as an off day." No games or practice today meant nothing would keep him from spending every minute with Arielle.
"Me too." Dylan hugged him. "See you later."
Rod waited until Dylan's car exited the snow-covered driveway, then he set the mugs on a tray and took his time walking to the bedroom.
He nudged the door open, and his gaze landed on the two sketches Arielle had drawn of him, hanging on the wall, framed in dark wood. The first, from their high school days, was the beginning of their relationship, the second, from his day with the Cup, was at a turning point in that relationship. Eventually, they'd need to add one more: he wanted a sketch of both of them, on their wedding day. He was pretty sure he could convince her to draw that one.
Arielle sat up in their bed, shaking her tussled curls out of her face, and his heart swelled with love. "Good morning."
"Happy Valentine's Day."
"To you, too. Oh, coffee." She leaned her head back for his kiss, and then accepted one of the mugs from the tray. "These look familiar."
"They should. Ben needs them back tomorrow."
A line formed between her brows. "Why would you borrow mugs from the shop? You have the biggest coffee cup collection of anyone I know."
He shrugged. "I didn't have romantic mugs."
Her eyes softened, and she smiled. "Then we'll have to get some we can keep."
He set his mug and then hers on the bedside table and stood. Heart beating hard, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. The oval solitaire winked in the light. "Maybe Ben will give them to us as a wedding present."
Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. Then they filled, and she raised her hands to her lips.
"Ari?" Rod knelt on the bed. His palms began to sweat. "What do you say? Will you marry me?"
Then she was crying and nodding and pushing into his arms, wrapping her own around him. "Yes. Of course, I will."
Happiness pulsed through him, more potent than any hit of caffeine. He pulled back until they were face to face and the joy radiating from hers caused his own to spill over. He slipped the ring on her finger and grinned at how perfect it looked there. "I know I've said it before, but I do love you more than I love hockey. I love you more than I love coffee. Hell, I'd give up coffee for you."
"That's pretty drastic. I'd never make you do that." She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.
They sank back on the bed. Rod kissed her over and over. Every time he caught sight of the ring, he kissed her again.
In the span of half a year, he had everything he'd ever wanted. Family and friends close by, the best job in the world, and with the woman beside him—the other half of his heart.
Being with Arielle completed him in ways he couldn't ever have imagined. Twelve years was a long time to wait for a dream come true. He intended to spend forever showing her how grateful he was that she'd given him a chance.
About the Author
SUSAN SCOTT SHELLEY is an award-winning author of contemporary romance.
She lives in Philadelphia with her very own Superhero and spends her days writing about tough heroes, smart heroines, and love being the strongest magic there is.
In addition to writing romances, she is also a professional voiceover artist and enjoys lending her voice to a wide range of projects.
Her favorite things include running, sports, hard rock, and old Hollywood movies. She believes life should be lived with laughter, enthusiasm, and a sense of wonder.
Learn more and discover why Love Always Wins at http://www.susanscottshelley.com
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Also by Susan
Kiss Me Again (Holiday Hearts series)
More Than Words (Holiday Hearts series)
All I Want (Holiday Hearts series)
Love Notes (Rocked by Love series)
Love Song (Rocked by Love series)
Rekindled (Game of Love series)
Captivated (Game of Love series)
Check My Heart
by
Christi Barth
CHECK MY HEART is dedicated to Eliza Knight and Lea Nolan, who shared a crazy night with me at Mardi Gras World – and were brave enough to eat alligator balls!
Prologue
Ten Months Ago
Kurt Lundquist paused in the doorway of the hospital room. It always took a minute to steel himself before going in to visit Jasper. As the big brother, it was his job to be brave and cheerful and bring the dirty jokes, stupid comics and violent video games to the sad fourteen-year-old. Bringing stuff was no problem. His contract with the Cajun Rage hockey team brought him buckets of cash. All of it worthless, as far as he was concerned, because it couldn’t buy a cure for Jasper.
Bringing a good attitude? That was about as easy as checking one of those twats from the New York Spartans and skating away without blood all over your jersey. Because Kurt stood a solid six--four, bench-pressed four hundred and twenty pounds, could sprint the length of the ice without raising his heart rate—but he couldn’t fight that fucker cancer.
A gurney coming straight at him sent Kurt ducking into the room before he was ready. Shit. He might be as tough as they come, but he felt the wetness in the corners of his eyes. Hopefully Jasper wouldn’t notice.
Hell, the kid didn’t even look up. His bald head was bent over the tray table, crumpled-up paper scattered across the covers. “What’d you bring me, bro?”
“How’d you know it was me? Your Spidey sense?” Kurt teased. He swiped the back of his hand across his eyes.
“Dude, I’m over Spider-Man. I told you that sticky mucus coming out of his palms is just gross. I like Thor now.”
“Why? You like his girlie cape?”
Still scribbling, Jasper said, “He’s invincible to Earth stuff. I figure he can’t catch any of our diseases. That’s a cool superpower.”
Jesus, the kid broke his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“So, what’d you bring me? Candy? Chili cheese fries? Swedish meatballs?”
“No. You know you’d just puke all that stuff up in about seven seconds. I brought you something better.” Kurt dug in the plastic bag from the Halloween store and pulled out a wig. It was the same brown as the Lundquist brothers’ hair, but a long, pirate version with a couple of dreads and some beads braided into a front piece.
Jasper finally looked up. Surprise flashed across his too-thin, too-pale face, followed by the same delight he wore every Christmas morning. “That’s badass.” He tried to put it on, but his IV tubing got tangled in the long hair. Kurt gently centered it on his head. Then he tweaked his little brother’s nose, just like everything was normal.
It wasn’t.
It hadn’t been since Jasper broke his leg playing hockey last season and the doctors discovered the bone was riddled with cancer. Two surgeries, one amputation, three rounds of chemo later and the only thing left was to try to make him smile as much as possible before time ran out.
“Did you meet your new nurse today? The one who’ll help you out when you go home?” That was easier to say than to call her a hospice nurse. Someone who’d ease him through to the end.
“Yeah. She’s hot.”
Kurt barked out a laugh. “I’m guessing she’s about a decade too old for you.”
“You’re old, and I still have fun with you.”
“Thanks, squirt.” The kid was right back at it, paper to pen. “Hey, I can’t stay too long. Practice starts in an hour. How about you talk to me? What are you working on so hard?”
“My bucket list.”
“Your what?”
“Oh, right. I mean, your bucket list. For the Cup.”
None of that made sense. “Jasper, what’s this all about? I’m not dying. Not for a very long time.”
“No, but I am.”
The cold fist of reality slammed into Kurt’s gut. “Who told you that?” Because there’d been a family powwow with the doctors, and the majority decision had been to keep that news from his brother. They all thought Jasper was too fragile to handle it. Kurt didn’t agree. The kid was strong enough to handle anything. But he’d never go against their wishes.
“I figured it out. I’m going home. Nobody will say when the next round of chemo starts. Nobody says I’m in remission. That hot nurse, Lisette, is for my hospice care.”
“Jasper—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. I can’t control that I’m dying, but I can control what happens after I do. I want you to win the Cup.”
Kurt fisted his hands below the bed rail, where Jasper wouldn’t see. “You know it’s not up to me. The whole team would have to win it, after taking down essentially thirty-two other teams. Hockey doesn’t give you the Cup because you ask nicely. You have to earn it through sweat and blood and killer moves on the ice.”
“The Rajuns made it to the conference finals last season. That makes this next season the one where you win it all. For me.”
Throat thick with all the emotion he wouldn’t let out, Kurt said, “Jasper, I swear I’ll try my hardest. There are no guarantees in hockey, though.”
“You’ll do it, bro. I know you will. And when you do, you’ll get your day with the Cup.” He pulled on the beaded piece of hair. “Bet you’ll score a ton of chicks with the
Cup.”
“I do all right as is, Jasper.”
“Okay, then, I’d finally score. I’m desperate. I couldn’t get to first base with Lisa, two doors down. And she’s bald from chemo. I mean, I rock the bald look, but chicks? Not so much.” For a minute, he sounded like a normal, opinionated teenager. Then he must’ve walked back through what he said, because he frowned. “I mean, if I was still around, I’d use it to score with chicks. But I won’t be. So I’m making a list, a bucket list, of everything I want you to do with it.”
He’d hold it together. For now. Then skate hard enough in practice to make his legs ache and his lungs burn. And then, he’d go home and drink from the same bottle of single malt Scotch he’d cracked open the night they got Jasper’s diagnosis.
“What’ve you got so far?”
Jasper tossed a crumpled paper over his shoulder, hitting the IV bag. “Stupid stuff. Eat Trix out of it.”
“Only the best cereal in the world. That’s not stupid.”
Jasper pawed through the slips of paper. “Take it to my high school. Let my whole hockey team take a picture with it.”
“You want me to let your stinky-ass friends get their fingerprints all over my shining, silver Cup?”
“Yeah. I do.” Jasper’s light blue eyes, identical to his own, stared him down.
“What else? Take it to the beach in Biloxi and use it as an ice bucket?”
“It’d be cool if you could take it to the college I want to—wanted to go to.”
Kurt ignored the slip of the tongue. “You got one picked out already? Someplace with a killer hockey program?”
“No.”
“Let’s start there.” He moved the list aside—pretty fucking much the saddest piece of paper he’d ever touched—and started a new one. “The University of Wisconsin’s great. They’ve got a couple of nice lakes to hang out on.”
