Derek pockets his phone, and when he spots the box on my lap, his steps slow. He looks hesitant to get near me and I know exactly why.
“No,” I say firmly, trying to put him out of his misery as quickly as possible. “I don’t want an out. I want the opposite of an out. I want an in but I needed to make sure of what you needed first.”
His brows furrow as he takes in the box once again. “I’m confused.”
I stand and set the box on the bed. “I realized something at work today.”
Derek’s mouth is tight as he leans a shoulder against the doorframe and crosses his arms. Unwilling to take a single step into this room with me and this cardboard box.
“I spent the entire day doing what I love,” I say. “Sending strategically worded emails. Reviewing contracts. Playing word chess with your team’s executives. I basically sat at my desk and didn’t surface for air until everyone else had already cleared the building and I was there all alone. And that’s when I realized it…” I pause and Derek’s brows pinch together. “It didn’t fulfill me quite like it used to. Instead, I opened my phone and saw the pictures you sent of what your friends did for us at the hospital and my heart ached.”
The glue holding him in place loosens at my words. He pushes off the doorjamb and strides toward me. “I’m sorry, Nora. I didn’t mean for it to—”
I hold up my hand and he freezes. “I mean my heart ached because I wish I had gone with you. It ached because I realized I’ve apparently entered a new season of my life where my career isn’t all I need anymore, and I keep trying to live as if it is. I need and want you, Derek. I need and want a life with you. With friends. With better balance to my day.”
I pause and Derek lets me take a minute to gather my thoughts before I continue. “Back then, I wasn’t ready for us. But now—you’re so good for me. You’ve championed me and sacrificed for me and reminded me what it’s like to have fun. And I want to be good for you too.”
“You are…” he says, inching closer, filling my body with that sweet, warm anticipation I’ve become addicted to. “You always have been.”
“Then I want to be good together too. I don’t want our past to dictate our future. I don’t want to be so scared of making the same mistakes as before that we hold back honesty from each other now.” I notice his hand flex at his side, and it makes me realize I struck a chord. I wasn’t the only one feeling insecure today.
“How do we do that?” he asks, a raw sadness lacing his tone that makes my heart turn syrupy. He was holding back from me today. Worried and hiding it for my sake.
I breathe in. “Well, like today. I don’t want you to be afraid of asking me to pull away from my work if you need me around for something.”
“Only if you promise to be honest with me when it’s something you can’t get away from. I don’t want to have that whisper in the back of my head, always wondering if you’re sacrificing something you love for me.”
“I can do that.”
Some of the structure in his shoulders relaxes. He tilts his head, eyes slanting to the box. “Okay, now I need to know why the hell you have a breakup box with you, because I feel my blood pressure rising each second I have to share a room with it.” This little brown box is a living, breathing monster to him.
I grab his hand, pulling him closer to the bed. I stand and face the box as he wraps his arms around my abdomen. I want to moan from how good it feels to be reunited with him in this small way. To have the fake smiles and terrible tension gone.
He leans over my shoulder to see inside the box, but I slam the top folds down so he doesn’t ruin the reveal. And okay, maybe I am being a little extra with the theatrics but I don’t care. Derek likes my extra-ness.
“This is not a breakup box. This is me realizing that you were completely honest and vulnerable with me on the honeymoon, but I’ve been holding back from you. This is me leveling the honesty playing field.”
He kisses the side of my face. “Okay, let me see all your kinky sex toys.”
My laugh cracks the air before my heart leaps into my throat. My tongue feels dry as a paper towel at the thought of emptying all my secrets. He squeezes me lightly in encouragement, the veins in his forearms growing even more pronounced. With one deep breath, I peel open the box.
There’s a shift in the air as I pull out the first item. Derek’s body straightens a little behind me with recognition.
It’s an old jersey, worn and faded—numbers cracking. I lay it on the bed.
“Is that…the same jersey you wore to my games in college?” His voice is gritty with emotion.
“The very same one.” I say. The sparkle glue I used to outline his number is still clinging beautifully to it.
Before I lose the nerve, I pull out the next one, a jersey with his number from his first season when he played with the Colorado Trailblazers before he was traded to the Sharks. At the sight of it, I feel Derek’s chest fill with a deep breath. I throw it on the other, forming a little pile and dig in the box for more.
Derek is silent and statue-still behind me as I reveal the older jersey style from Derek’s first year with the Sharks—his number as well. And then two more follow from where the jerseys updated through the years. Each time I told myself I wouldn’t buy a new one—that I needed to let these feelings fade and burn them all in a heap. But something in me couldn’t let go. Some part of me knew deep down that I shouldn’t. We’d find our way back to each other.
When I reach the bottom of the box, I twist around in Derek’s arms so I can look him in the eyes. In his eyes that look suspiciously misty-blue. “I watched every single game you played with Colorado. I’ve also gone to every home game you’ve played for the Sharks. Not because I loved the Sharks—because I loved you. Every. Single. Day.” I wet my lips and he watches. Emotion tugging his brows together at the sound of the word love. The Big Important Word we’ve yet to say to each other since finding our way into each other’s arms again.
“And now—prepare yourself for my speech. It’s a good one. I’ve been making notes.”
He grins. “Is each bullet point a different color?”
“Heartfelt is purple. Relationship history is red. Everything pertaining to you is cornflower blue.”
His thumb tracks a circle on my back. “I’m ready.”
I adjust my shoulders, trying to remember my topic sentence. “My whole life I’ve felt like nothing but a stepping-stone for people. Whether it’s that I’m too much for them or too little, I’m not sure. All I know is that friends only stick with me until they find the better, less obnoxious version of me. The one who doesn’t have weird catchphrases and compulsively organizes their linen closet.” And pantry. It’s a big one for me. “Even my dad continues to try out fatherhood on me until he gets a new stepchild and then dumps me to the side.” I breathe through a rush of emotions. “And my last ex-boyfriend, Ben, he couldn’t stand how incapable I was of sitting quietly in a room. He was always commenting on how much attention I brought everywhere we went. And after I passed out at the sight of his blood, he told me this was just too much for him and ended it.”
Derek looks like he’d like to tear a mountain in half, but I continue. “I was so afraid back in college that I’d give you everything and in the end, I’d be your stepping-stone too. So part of me broke up with you to beat you to the punch. But I’m not afraid anymore, and I want you to know that I’m so completely in love with you.” His hold around my waist tightens and I’ve never had a more captive audience. “I don’t want an out. I want this—me and you—for real if you’re up for it.”
Derek’s blue eyes are dark right now. A blue cornflower dropped in the belly of the ocean. His hands find my face and he cradles it. “You are not and could never be a stepping-stone, Nora.” His lips slip into mine and even from this small touch I want to groan my delight. He pulls away too soon, but his words make up for it. “You’re a gemstone. Rare and unique and vibrant. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to have you in their life.”
A garden of joy blooms in my chest—warm and full of color as Derek lays me back on the bed so my ankles are hanging off the edge. He only gives me half his weight as he leans over me and traces a finger down the curve of my neck and over my collarbones.
“If it wasn’t obvious before, I love you too. I love you more than you love cereal on ice cream and more than the sun loves to fry your pretty skin.” His eyes crease in the corners. “You deserve the whole world, and I’d try to give it to you, but I think you’ll enjoy fighting for it yourself more.”
I want to wrap myself completely around him and squeeze like a python. “You’re not wrong. But if I get tired or dehydrated running The Great Race, can I request assistance from the sidelines?”
“Of course. I’ll bring electrolytes.” He’s a softie.
“What if I want you to piggyback me over the finish line because my legs are too cramped?”
“I can do that.” His lips find my jaw.
“What if I want you to just hold my hand while I cross it?”
He hums against my skin, the sensation buzzing my nerve endings to life. “I’d be honored.”
“You’re so lovable, Dere-Bear.”
“That’s honestly such a bad nickname.” His hand is playing with my fingers beside my hip. “But I actually have an idea to run by you?”
“I’m listening,” I say, wiggling my fingers free from their captivity of his big hand and sliding them under the fabric of his shirt. His skin is a hot iron pulled right from the fire.
“What do you think about letting me date you for a while?” He nips at my earlobe before his lips slide down my jaw, headed back for my mouth. “You live at your place, and I’ll live at mine, and I’ll pick you up for dates. We’ll have sleepovers. We’ll take things slow just purely for the fun of it because we can. Because we have forever. Because I hate that I didn’t get the time you deserve to win you back before we inked these bands on our fingers—and I want to give you that time now.”
I pull away slightly to look him in the eyes. “I think that’s an amazing idea. Especially with training camp coming up.”
He cups my face—smiles, and then presses another kiss to my lips. Harder. The intensity growing with each one. “And I have a feeling you’re going to be very busy over these next few weeks jetting off to sign every athlete under the sun. Dating is the practical solution right now. And I know you love being practical.” He takes my bottom lip between his teeth.
“Practical is the sexiest word in the dictionary,” I say before wrapping my arms around his neck.
He puts his mouth right next to my ear and whispers, “And maybe we could even…coordinate a calendar schedule.”
I moan theatrically. “You’re so dirty.”
“You haven’t even seen the beginning of it, Ginger Snap.”
It doesn’t take long before my hands are in his hair and his hands are fisting the front of my shirt, dragging it higher and higher each second. His tongue sweeps over mine and an explosion of heat rushes through my stomach, my limbs, my head. I put my hands under his shirt and run them up his muscled abdomen and over his pecs, feeling the raised lines of his tattoos under my fingers. He presses me firmly to him and his kiss melts me from the inside out. Every sweep of his tongue, caress of his hands, press of his lips seems to say I love you, I love you, I love you.
“I’ve missed you all these years, Nora. My friend. My love.”
I want to swim in a pool of those euphoric words. I want to turn them into blankets and nap inside them every day. “I’ve missed you too, Derek. All’s well that loves well.”
He whispers in my ear, “That’s not the phrase.”
“It should be.” I’m arching. More, more, more.
“One more thing. I know you hemmed each of my pants up an inch on one leg.”
I press my lips together, frantically trying to gain control of my expression. “I will not answer any further questions without my lawyer present.”
“Menace.” He kisses my temple once, then rises to stand in front of the bed with a smile. And then a heated, promising look flares in Derek’s eyes before he grasps my hips, pulls them to the edge of the mattress, gives me his trademark wink, and drops to his knees.
The next morning, Derek goes back to my place with me, where we eat breakfast with my lovely new utensils while I sit in his lap at the table.
