by Keeland, Vi
“Ninety-six? No. You were out for eighteen days. Why would you think ninety-six?”
I shrugged. “I remember hearing that number.”
Georgia’s brows drew together before recognition dawned on her face. “Ninety-six?” She pointed over to the window. “You must’ve heard us talking about those.”
I turned toward the window and squinted. The entire sill was jam-packed with action figures. “What are all those?”
“They’re all ninety-six original Star Wars action figures. The one in the front is the Yoda you gave me the night we met. But all the others your teammates and friends sent you. Some of your doctors brought them, too.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you heard us talking about those, that you remember the conversation. What else do you remember?”
I told her the jumbled bits that had come back to me.
“Wow. That’s amazing. And I can’t believe you’re awake, Max. I would love nothing more than to lie down and snuggle with you, but I really think I should get the nurse to make sure you’re okay. And I need to call your mom. She’s been so worried. We all have.”
I nodded. “Okay, but come here first. Bring your face closer to me.”
Georgia leaned so we were nose to nose. My arms felt like they weighed three-hundred pounds, but I managed to lift one to her cheek. Her eyes glistened with happiness. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
She clutched her chest. “You heard me tell you that?”
“Of course. That’s what kept me fighting.”
• • •
Eight days later, I finally left the hospital. It took another week to get my family to go back home. I felt bad that they’d all been away from their lives for a month, but I also couldn’t wait to be alone with Georgia.
My walking wasn’t so great yet. It was going to take me a long time to build up my strength, so I stayed on the couch while Georgia walked the last guest out. When she came back, the house was quiet. She walked over to me.
“You hear that?” I said.
Georgia looked around. “No, what?”
I yanked her arm. “The sound of you moaning.”
She giggled. “I don’t think I was moaning.”
“I guess it was just a premonition.” I fingered the button of her jeans. “Why do you have so many damn clothes on?”
“Umm... Maybe because your brother just walked out the door two seconds ago?”
I unbuttoned her pants. “I hope you locked the damn thing.”
“You’re not supposed to do anything strenuous for four to six weeks.”
“That’s four to six weeks post-surgery. It’s been more than thirty days. We’re in that window.”
Georgia bit her lip. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to do all the work. Ride me, sweetheart.”
I saw that familiar fire ignite in her eyes. “Okay, but you really need to let me do all the work. You can’t top from the bottom, Max.”
I made an innocent face and wrapped my hand around her throat like I knew she liked. “Who, me?”
We shed our clothes in a frenzy. Georgia first, and then she helped me undress. I could’ve managed myself, but I loved seeing her on her knees on the floor in front of me, yanking at my pants. Her fingernails scraped my thighs as she pulled off my boxers, and then she climbed on top and straddled me. I felt the wet heat of her pussy up against the bottom of my shaft.
“I want you,” I groaned. “I fucking need you.”
“I need you, too.”
Georgia put her hands on my shoulders and lifted to her knees. I reached between us, fisted my cock, and dragged the head across her wet opening. She smiled, leaning in to kiss me as she lowered herself. It took every shred of willpower I had not to buck my hips and take over. The urge to fuck her into oblivion had my arms shaking.
She noticed. “Are you okay?”
“Never better, sweetheart.”
She took a minute to steady herself and then began to rock back and forth, penetrating so damn deep. It felt like heaven and hell all rolled into one. This woman was the love of my life, and it was torture to hold back.
She arched her back, grabbing hold of my knees behind her, and gyrated her hips. When she moaned my name, I lost it. I fucking lost it. Screw taking it easy. If I was going to die, I wanted to die exactly as I was—with myself planted to the root inside the woman I planned to spend the rest of my life with. So I started thrusting, meeting her every rock with a roll and falling into the rhythm that was only ours.
“Max…” she yelled.
“Right there with you, baby.”
We chased the edge together. Nothing had ever felt so good. So right. So real. Georgia squeezed me harder, her fingers digging into my hair as she spoke my name over and over. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and I watched the orgasm pull her under. When her body started to go slack, I thrust up one last time and let go.
After, we were both panting. It might’ve only lasted a couple of minutes, but it was the best damn orgasm of my life. Georgia slumped into my lap, and I stroked her hair.
“Are you okay? Any pain?” she whispered.
I kissed the top of her head. “I’m good. I promise.”
She sighed. “You know, I’m still mad at you.”
“If that’s how you show me mad, I’ll be sure to piss you off plenty.”
She slapped my shoulder. “You dumped me. And broke my heart.”
“I know. And I promise I’m going to spend every day making it up to you.”
My brother had told Georgia that right before everything happened, I’d made the decision to have surgery. But I realized she probably didn’t know how I’d come to that decision.
“Did Tate tell you about my trip down to Long Beach?”
She looked up with her little nose wrinkled. “Long Beach? No. But that’s where my boutique is.”
“I know. When I first got out here, I was really struggling. It didn’t feel like I’d made the right decision, but I couldn’t risk you getting hurt. So I started taking long drives to think and clear my head. One day I wound up in Long Beach. I took the dogs for a walk on the beach, stopped to get them some water, and I walked straight into your store.”
“Really?”
“Yep. So I went inside and looked around. The lady working there showed me the arrangements and mentioned that you had a database of suggested notes for cards. I remembered you’d said you used to suggest quotations for people who weren’t good with messages.”
“That’s right. I had a few F. Scott Fitzgerald books in my first store, and I’d tabbed them and annotated quotes I loved.”
I nodded. “I’d been driving all over, trying to figure out what to do. Turned out, the answer was in one of those quotes you picked out years ago.”
“It was?”
“Yep. It was always you.”
Her eyes watered as she smiled. “It was always you, too.”
EPILOGUE
* * *
Georgia
Two years later
Tonight was bittersweet.
I stood at the window in the owner’s skybox, looking down at the ice. Max’s entire family was all here, too, milling around somewhere behind me. I would rather have been down below, but Celia and Miles Gibson had insisted they host everyone for the big night, and I just couldn’t say no. Technically, Miles was Max’s boss, but Celia and I had also become good friends. They frequently invited me to watch the games up here with them, but ever since Max had skated back out onto the ice, I’d felt the need to be closer to the rink.
It had been a tough couple of years for Max, with lots of ups and downs. After his surgery, it took almost a full year for him to get back to where he needed to be to play hockey again. And even after countless hours of physical therapy and training to regain his strength, Max would be the first to tell you that while he might be fit to lace up, he wasn
’t the player he’d been before. The ruptured aneurysm had caused some long-term issues, the worst being tissue and nerve damage in his neck that made the recovery time after each game longer and longer.
Which was why tonight was his last game. At the ripe old age of thirty-one, Pretty Boy Yearwood was retiring. It had been his choice, not at the team’s insistence, and that’s how he wanted to go out—on his own terms.
Though, he wasn’t actually going too far. During the year Max couldn’t play, he’d still gone to every practice and every game. He’d become sort of an unofficial assistant coach for the team, and during that time, the head coach had recognized that Max had skills that were valuable on and off the ice. So while Max was retiring from playing today, as of September, he’d be the strength and conditioning coach for the Blades. His job would be to develop athletes to the pinnacle of their performance—something he knew better than anyone. The best part of the change was that he only had to work at practices, so he wouldn’t have the crazy travel schedule of a player anymore.
As for me, I still had my office in New York, though I mostly worked remotely from California these days. I had since the day I’d flown out to be with Max after his surgery. At first, it was because he had needed me during his recovery, but over time, I’d fallen a little in love with California. New York would always have a piece of my heart, but I loved the laid-back atmosphere out here so much. Almost losing Max had taught me a lot about priorities. Turns out, my schedule wasn’t too busy for a relationship after all, but my relationship needed to be the first thing I scheduled, rather than the last.
The final buzzer sounded, and my eyes welled up. Since the team hadn’t been in playoff contention, the win tonight didn’t change their season—though I’m sure it helped keep spirits high. All of Max’s teammates gathered around him, jumping and celebrating the end of a decade-long career. Normally fans rushed to get out of the arena as soon as a game ended, but no one left their seat tonight. They waited for Max to lift his stick over his head and take one final lap. When he did, the place erupted in a standing ovation.
I couldn’t stop crying as I watched. The Jumbotron zoomed in on his smiling face while he skated and waved, and when he got to the section below where I was seated, he looked up and winked, flashing the dimples that still made my knees weak. Things had really come full circle—from the night we’d met and I’d seen his face light up that screen, to today as his career ended and the beginning of whatever would come next for us started. Best blind date ever.
Max’s brother Tate walked up next to me and put his arm around my shoulder.
“Stop worrying. He’s happy,” he said. “Those first few months when things were iffy about whether he’d be able to come back, I wasn’t sure how he would survive without being able to play. But now he’s made peace with it—and so much of that is because of you, Georgia. You made him realize what’s important, and he’s really looking forward to getting Austin’s life-size Lincoln Logs business off the ground. He told me you’re going to help. Hell, if you’re half as successful with that as you are with your roses, you’re going to make Austin proud.”
I wiped my tears. “My makeup is already going to be a mess. Don’t make it worse, Tate.”
He smiled and squeezed my shoulder. A minute later, Maggie stood on my other side. She was now dating one of Max’s teammates. They’d met at a barbeque at our house last summer and had been inseparable since. It had worked out great for me because it meant she spent a lot of time out in California, and we traveled to games together sometimes, too.
“How you holding up?” she asked.
I sighed. “Exactly how you’d expect.”
My best friend smiled. “You want to walk down to the ice with me? Celia said Miles is going to say a few words. You should be there when Max comes off.”
I nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Maggie and I flashed our all-access passes and made our way down to the ice to stand near the rink exit. The players were still celebrating when team owner Miles Gibson walked out onto the ice. He had a microphone in his hand, and he motioned for everyone to quiet down while waving Max over to the center of the arena.
“Good evening, everyone. I don’t think I have to tell you that tonight was this guy’s last game as a player. Max Yearwood is leaving the ice after a ten-year career with six-hundred-and-seventy-two goals. That puts him in the top fifteen all-time scorers, rivaling players who’ve had careers twice as long.”
A woman in the stands screamed, “I love you, Pretty Boy!”
That started a gaggle of laughter and a myriad of others professing their love. Max shook his head, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck as if he was embarrassed. But I knew his ego had enjoyed every moment of tonight.
Eventually, Miles got control of the crowd again. “Jeez, and they say men are bad.” He chuckled. “But on that note, I just wanted to thank Max for his dedication to the team. Though he’s only been with us a couple of years, he’s become a big part of the Blades family. And we’re delighted to announce that while you might not be seeing this man on the ice next year, you will be seeing him on the sidelines. Max Yearwood leaves us as a player today, but he joins us as a coach next season.”
The crowd went crazy again. Miles let it go on for a minute and then quieted everyone once more. “Since it seems like people are not as interested in me as they are the man standing next to me, I’m going to turn the mic over to the man of the hour. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Max Yearwood.”
Oh wow. I had no idea Max was going to make a speech, and I didn’t think he did either. If he’d been aware, he hadn’t mentioned it. Lord knows, I would’ve been freaking out being put on the spot like that. Public speaking was the one thing I still hadn’t tackled from my summer to-do list I’d given Max.
Though this situation didn’t seem to bother Max. He took the mic and waved to the crowd like the natural showman he was. “Thank you so much,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Jeez, I thought this would be easier. But it’s hard to say goodbye to something that has been your entire life since you were four.” He looked around the arena. “I still remember the first hockey game I ever went to. I’m one of six boys, and my dad usually took the older kids to games, but it was my birthday—the big four. So instead, he brought me and my next-oldest brother, Austin.” Max paused and took a deep breath. He looked down at the ice for a few seconds, probably thinking about how they weren’t both here anymore. When he looked up, he swallowed and pointed up to the top row of the arena. “We sat in the next-to-last row. I remember sitting on the edge of my seat the entire game and being mesmerized by how fast the players could skate. I told my dad that very day that I wanted to be a hockey player.” Max patted his chest. “My dad tapped me here and said, ‘Okay. But this is what makes a hockey player, son. Anyone can skate.’ Twenty-seven years have gone by since that day, and those are still probably the truest words I’ve ever heard about this sport. Hockey is all about heart.”
He paused and took another deep breath, again patting his chest. “That heart got me back here this year. But this heart also knows it’s time to go. So today I want to say thank you for all of the years you’ve given me. All of you have become my family—which makes it only fitting that I close out my career on the ice by giving you a piece of my heart.”
He turned to face the side of the rink where I stood and smiled. “Could someone please help my girl come out here? She’s not so good on the ice, either on skates or in those sexy shoes she’s wearing tonight.”
My eyes widened. But before I could panic too much, one of Max’s teammates had already opened the gate to the ice, and two others skated over and offered me their hands. I turned to Maggie, freaking out and looking for help, but she only smiled.
“Go get your man, my friend.”
The next thing I knew, I was walking across the ice, escorted by two large men on skates. In the center of the arena, they handed me off to Max and skated
away.
Max took one look at my face and smiled. “You’re freaking out right now?”
I nodded, which only made him laugh.
I gazed up at the stands, at all of the eyes watching me, and the rumbling voices all seemed to stop at the same time. The arena grew quiet enough to hear a pin drop. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not, but when I turned back to Max I realized what had silenced everyone. Max had knelt down on one knee.
Oh my God. My trembling hand flew up to cover my mouth.
Max brought the other one to his lips and kissed it. “Georgia Margaret Delaney, I have been crazy about you since the night I crashed your blind date.”
I shook my head. “That’s because you are crazy.”
Max squeezed my hand. “The only thing that makes leaving hockey bearable is knowing what’s waiting for me on the other side. You have given me so much more than I ever thought possible. You give me strength and the courage to change—not just with my career but as a man. I want to grow old with you, Georgia.”
He picked up something next to him on the ice, a black velvet ring box and...a Yoda. Max had a pretty big collection of them now, especially after his hospital stay, but the one in his hand had a small chip on its ear. It looked like the one I’d carried with me every day since we met. Max noticed me staring at it.
“Yeah, he’s yours. I borrowed him from your purse last night when you weren’t looking. I figured I needed every bit of luck I could get.” He winked. “You don’t need the luck. You already have me.”
Max cupped my cheek, and I noticed his hand was shaking. For all his boisterous confidence and cocky pride, my big, tough guy was nervous. My heart melted a little bit more. He took another deep breath and blew it out with a smile before opening the ring box. Inside was a sparkling, emerald-cut diamond.
“Georgia, you are the reason for the smile on my face every morning and every night. Today I’m asking you to put it there forever. Will you, sweetheart? Will you marry me and make me the happiest guy in the world?”
