Ezra’s organized a trip with them that I’m more than ready for.
We leave the way we came, hand in hand, and when the elevator doors slide closed, I step in close. “Where are we going?”
“I’ve got a room.”
“Smart man.”
“I’ve been telling you this the whole time.” He squeezes my hand. “We’re going to be celebrating for a bit, but once that’s finished … we have the whole summer. Just us. No practice, no games, no hockey.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“And I was thinking, since you’re not in love with your place, maybe, while you look for something else, you could stay with me?”
“Move in with you?”
“If you want,” he hurries to say. “No pressure. We’ve been basically together the whole season, and let’s face it, with all this free time, I’m going to want to spend at least ninety percent of it naked, and being naked at home alone feels sort of sad—”
I cut him off with a kiss. “Let’s do it.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re pretty great, you know that?”
His smile is huge. “You know, I distinctly remember you saying you’d never say those words.”
“I can admit when I’m wrong.”
“You’ll be doing that a lot, then.” Ezra kisses me. “But you’re pretty great too, babe.”
The thing is, nothing with us is guaranteed. Our careers, our teams, even the cities we live in. I want to spend as much time as I can with Ezra while I have it, so then if we are ever separated, we’ll be stronger and ready to face that together too.
The NHL might be a big part of our lives now, but that won’t always be the case.
Ezra will be though.
I can feel it.
No matter what happens, no matter what we go through, we’re going to do it together.
Boyfriends who win Stanley Cups together stay together.
That’s my superstition.
And I’m sticking to it.