I cringe. “You’ve grown on me like a pimple on my ass. And you better learn to keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Coach calls everyone over for a pregame talk, saving me from Dante. He calls Anton over after and I hear him ask how his brother is.

“He’ll be okay,” Anton says. “Thanks for asking.”

I’ve never heard Anton sound so detached when talking about his brother. Maybe he means it about being done.

I remind myself to tell Reese about Alexei later. I promised to work on being better about telling her things, and I plan to. I never want her to feel hurt or left out again. Of course, she’ll be coming to my dad’s celebration of life service with me.

She’ll get to see all my childhood photos and hockey trophies. I’ve never shared any of that with any woman, but Reese is different.

“Dude, I’m coming to Kauai next summer,” I hear Dante say to someone. “Maybe some chick will take her top off and shake her titties just to meet me.”

I grip my stick hard, wanting to pound him with it.

“Go to your happy place,” Silas tells me when he sees I’m about to lose it.

He’s right. I can’t kick my teammate’s ass in the locker room, much as I’d like to.

Instead, I put in my headphones and zone out with music, thinking about the moment Reese said yes. That will always be a happy place for me. I’ll just have to switch back to thinking about Dante right before we hit the ice.Chapter Twenty-SixReeseKnox gives me a tender look as I show off the pearl brooch pinned to my dress.

“This is my something old. It was my grandma’s,” I say. “Grandma Jan, the one who first taught me how to bake.”

“And then it’s something new, right?”

I give him a sly grin. “The bra and panties I’m wearing. You can see them later.”

“I’m gonna do more than just see them.” He kisses me, long and slow, and I can feel his promise of what’s to come tonight—our wedding night.

But we’re in the Cook County Courthouse, so our kissing can’t lead to more just yet. We’re meeting my dad and Knox’s mom outside the room we’re getting married in by a courthouse officiant. But before we do that, we wanted a last private few moments before we’re married, so we’re standing together in a little out of the way corner.

“And let’s see…” I try to get my senses back after that kiss. “Something borrowed…” I hold up my small bouquet of calla lilies and show him the white scrap of fabric I have wrapped around the stems. “Angelia loaned me this handkerchief that’s special to her.”

“Did she tell you why?”

I lower my brows. “I don’t want to darken the mood on our wedding day.”

“You won’t.”

I look up at him. “When her ex-husband attacked her the final time, when he beat her and threw acid on her, the first police officer on the scene gave Angela this handkerchief from her pocket. She told me she was sure she was going to die, but he kept telling her everything was going to be okay, and she just held on tight to that handkerchief. Now she holds it when she needs a reminder that everything will be okay.”

Knox’s eyes swim with emotion. “Wow. That’s powerful. It must mean a lot to you that she wanted you to have it with you today.”

“It does.”

Knox and I talked about inviting our closest friend and family here to witness the ceremony and celebrate with us after, but the more we talked about it, the more people we felt like we had to include, and it stopped being the intimate occasion we wanted. So we decided on just my dad and his mom.

I smile at Knox and take a step back, doing a small twirl in my pale blue dress. It’s simple, but pretty. And with my hair done in a knot at the nape of my neck, I feel more beautiful than I ever have.

“Something blue,” Knox says, his gaze reverent. “You look stunning, babe.”

“Thank you.”

He takes my hand. “Ready?”

“I am.”

As we make our way through the busy courthouse, people look at us and smile. I squeeze Knox’s hand, amazed by how different it feels this time. I’m not nervous. I’m not worried about a single thing. I’m just happy. Happier than I ever thought possible.

“That’s Knox Deveraux,” someone says as we walk by.

As much as we wanted this day to be private, we knew people would sneak photos if they recognized Knox. Or rather, when. Everywhere we go in this city, people want to shake his hand and take selfies with him. It makes me feel proud when he graciously accepts every single time.

When we’re almost to the office we’re walking to, Knox’s mom, Diane, stands up to greet us. She’s beaming, tears glistening in her eyes, which are the same milk chocolate shade as Knox’s.

Tags: Brenda Rothert Chicago Blaze Romance
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