Jaxson
It turned out the elderly couple who almost caught us was staying at the campsite next to us.
Nora and Glen were married and retired. They’d been traveling for years, seeing all they could in this world together. And even though there was quite a bit of space between our sites, Grace embraced them like they were our neighbors,
We spent a long time at the springs, Grace asking the couple for their life story as they slipped into the hot water to join us. We drank the bottle of wine while the sun set, and once the cheese was gone and we were all starving, Nora and Glen invited us to their campsite for dinner — and then surprised the hell out of us when they offered us a joint as dessert.
Grace partook while I opted to stay sober, but I’d be a lying bastard if I said I didn’t take advantage of her heightened sensitivity when we were alone in our tent later that night. Just trailing my fingertips over her skin had her writhing in need. And when she finally couldn’t take anymore and climbed on top of me, she rode in slow, smooth movements that tested my ability to last long enough for her to find her release first.
We woke with the sun the next morning, packing up our supplies and stopping long enough to wish Nora and Glen a happy life before we started trekking back to the ranger station. We were exhausted after the back-to-back hikes, so we slept in a nearby hotel that night before hitting the road the next morning.
And then, we were headed north to Canada.
There was so much to see, so much we wanted to stop and explore as we crossed through Idaho and Montana. We seemed torn between taking in all the sights we could, and getting to our end-destination before we ran out of time.
In the end, we landed on a week of exploring the area, losing our days trying our hand at fly-fishing, hiking, and exploring while every single night was spent discovering more about one another. The book I’d brought with me still had a bookmark in the same place I’d left it that day we’d hiked in Chattanooga. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone this long without reading.
But I had better things to do with my hands now than turn the pages of a book.
When we weren’t fucking each other into oblivion, we were talking — Grace’s head on my chest, my fingers rubbing lazy circles on her skin. She made me laugh. I made her feel safe enough not to fake a smile. And it didn’t matter how late we stayed up or how much we talked on the road, I never got tired of hearing about her life — her past, what she was thinking now, where she thought she might be in the future.
I’d only known the girl for a month, and yet it felt like I’d been living under water before I found her. It was like she’d pulled me to the surface, like I’d taken my first breath and looked around and saw the world with fresh eyes.
And now, I couldn’t imagine living without her.
Which fucking gutted me — because I didn’t have another choice.
One night, when she was sound asleep and letting out the most adorable, annoying little snores in the world next to me, I let myself entertain the thought of asking her to be with me. Really be with me.
And then I instantly realized how fucking stupid an idea it was.
Vince would never let it happen. The moment he found out, he’d fight me. He’d threatened all of us on the team within an inch of our lives to stay away from his sister. And it wouldn’t be just me and Grace who would suffer. Vince was our strongest winger. He was our point-leader. If Will wasn’t our captain, it would be Vince. He pulled us all together, made us stronger, made us want to work harder for each other.
But this… this would tear us apart.
My stomach tightened at the memory of Will cornering me at the tournament, at what he’d reminded me of.
This was bigger than just me.
And even if I did decide to say fuck Vince and fuck the team, too — what did I honestly expect? Grace was twenty-fucking-two years old. She still had so much growing to do, so much to see and experience.
I would hate giving her up when the summer came to an end.
But I’d hate holding her back even more.
I shoved all those thoughts to the back of my mind whenever I could, committing myself to soaking up the present moment. Because right now — she was mine.
It was the wildest sensation when we finally decided to cross the border, handing over our passports at the Canadian checkpoint with Grace bouncing excitedly in the passenger seat. I felt both like I was coming home and like I was jumping headfirst into a pit of needles.
I smiled and pointed out landmarks to Grace as we drove, all while my stomach twisted into an awful knot. We stopped at Tim Horton’s for a double double and timbits, and I stretched my hands against the numbness threatening to invade them.
It was amazing.
And yet, it was terrifying, too.
Because I was back in my country — but I was also closer to my father.
We stopped for the night at a little manor in Glenwood, a small village not far from the border with a gorgeous view of the mountains we’d be driving toward the next day. The host was a huge hockey fan, and about lost his shit when he saw us walk up to check in. He went above and beyond to make sure we were comfortable, even going so far as to make us dinner — bison burgers and poutine.
Grace was fucking thrilled.
I was just happy the guy didn’t ask to take pictures or beg me to sign anything. He treated me like a VIP, but without the need to brag about being in my vicinity. It was refreshing, and it also brought me peace knowing Grace and I were safe there.
After dinner, I listened to Grace humming a song I didn’t recognize as she did her nighttime routine in the bathroom. I was stretched out on the bed, one arm behind my head as I stared up at the ceiling.
We were just three hours from my parents.
The proximity made anxiety swim in my gut. I felt like a fucking asshole for not wanting to see them, but in the same breath, my self-preservation reminded me on repeat why seeing them would be a bad idea.
It was hard enough to put up with my father’s constant attack on my performance over the phone. In person? He was relentless. And it was always harder to listen to him when I could also see what hockey had taken from him, what a shit hand he’d been dealt.
It made me feel sorry for him instead of feel like I had any right to ask him to leave me the fuck alone.
“Holy shit!”
Grace gasped, and I shot up from where I was reclining. “You okay?”
She bounded into the dark room, her eyes wide and bright like a kid on Christmas morning. She leapt into the bed, balancing on her knees and pointing at her forehead.
“I have a wrinkle!”
I blinked, and then blew out a breath, shaking my head. “Fucking Christ, woman. I thought you were hurt.”
“Look!” she said, ignoring my concern. She leaned closer to me, into the light from the lamp on our nightstand, tapping that spot on her forehead again. “See it?”
“No,” I answered honestly.
She scowled, which made her skin fold on itself. “See it now?”
“That doesn’t count.”
She sighed, slapping her hands against her thigh. “You’re being grumpy. I totally have a wrinkle.”
“Why do you want me to confirm this? Weren’t you just moisturizing your face to combat wrinkles?”
“No, I was moisturizing my face because it’s dry as hell up here,” she said, and then she climbed into my lap, threading her arms around my neck. God, I loved when she did that, when she touched me like it was natural, when she wrapped herself around me like we were the perfect fit.
“I like wrinkles.”
She said the words as she reached up to remove my glasses, and then her fingers traced my skin — around my eyes, my mouth, over my forehead.
“They’re proof you’ve laughed, you’ve cared, you’ve hurt.” She swallowed, her fingers lingering over the line I knew existed between my brows whether I was frowning or not. “Proof that you’ve lived.”
I covered her hand with my own, pulling her knuckles to my lips for a kiss. Her face was so bright and open and honest, this girl who continued to surprise me no matter how much time we spent together. Here she was tracing the deep lines in my skin like they were beautiful, all while saying she was happy to earn a wrinkle of her own.
She lived this life like no one I had ever met before.
And right there in that dingy fucking hotel room, I felt three words slam into my chest like a semi-truck.
I loved her.
Fuck.
I loved her the way I loved breathing, the way I loved the feel of fresh ice under my skates and fresh snow on the mountains. I loved her as if there was no choice.
And maybe there never was.
Maybe it didn’t matter that it was cruel and impossible, that loving her was sentencing myself to a life of pain. I’d been drawn to her since the first moment I knew she existed, like my soul wouldn’t allow me any other option.
I loved her — even though I could never fully have her.
The urge to tell her danced on my tongue, forcing my mouth open. But I clamped it shut again and swallowed the words down, burying them deep.
“There’s no one in this world like you, Grace Tanev,” I said instead.
She smiled, leaning into my palm when I reached up to touch her face.
“We’ll be in your hometown tomorrow,” she said.
“We will.”
“You okay?”
I heaved a sigh. “Yes and no.”
“We don’t have to stay long.”
I swallowed, looking at where my thumb smoothed the line of her jaw. “Actually, I was going to talk to you about that.”
Grace stiffened even before I said anything more, and the words felt like lead as I tried to push them out.
“Remember when we started the trip, and I told you I had a training booked with some of the team?” I asked.
I waited, wondering if I’d need to explain further, but hockey had been a part of Grace’s entire life, too. Vince was one of the guys who went in on booking the ice, so she probably already knew about how it all worked.
This would be the first time back on the ice since the season ended for most of us, and it wasn’t just Osprey players, but guys from other leagues, too. We’d meet to just get some ice time in, run drills, and play a few scrimmages — anything we felt we needed to do to get prepped for camp.
Staying in game shape was a commitment to my team — one I couldn’t break. And it didn’t matter that I wanted the summer and this trip to last forever. Reality was knocking hard on the door.
The season was coming, and I had to get ready for it.
Grace deflated a bit as she put the pieces together.
“The first?” she asked.
I nodded, searching her eyes as she did the math.
“One week,” she breathed.
“Six days, to be exact. I’ll need to catch a flight on the thirty-first.”
Her nostrils flared, and for a split-second, I thought… I thought I saw something. But she nodded immediately, smiling and leaning down to press a swift kiss to my lips.
“Well, that’s actually perfect! I’m meeting some college buddies in Costa Rica for a birthday yoga retreat. So that will give me just enough time to stop by Mom and Dad’s, do some laundry, maybe see some friends, and then head out.”
My chest hollowed out. “Oh.”
I searched for any sign of her hiding her emotions again, for any sign of tears she was holding back. I was pretty good at spotting it in her now — the fake smile, the sadness that would tinge the edges of her eyes.
But this time, I found nothing.
My next swallow felt like I was working a wine cork down my throat. Of course, she had plans. She knew this wasn’t going to last forever just like I did. It shouldn’t have hurt that she already had her next destination planned. In fact, I should have been happy. She had somewhere to go. She had people waiting on her. She had the rest of her life to live.
But I was a selfish fucking prick, and it killed me to think about her moving on without me — even when I knew, deep down, it was what I wanted for her.
“It’s going to be amazing. Oh! Let me show you our bungalow!” She rolled off me, grabbing her phone and pulling up the listing. She leaned against me as she thumbed through the photos, rattling on about how they’d have yoga on the beach, sound baths, daily meditations, and a bunch of other shit that I tuned out.
Not that I didn’t care — because I did. And that was the fucking problem.
I cared so deeply for her that I knew now I would be a fucking wreck when we said goodbye in a week.
I’d told myself not to fall for her. I’d told myself not to even think about touching her, because I knew — I fucking knew this would happen.
And yet, it was like it was inevitable, like we had no choice but to crash into each other and exist in the wreckage when the time came for us to part.
Swallowing, I wrapped my arms around her, my chin on her shoulder as I listened to her detail the trip. I felt the excitement rolling off her, and in the same breath, felt my heart give way to a single, deep crack.
But I closed my eyes against it, inhaling her scent and committing it to memory.
One more week.
I had her for one. More. Week.
