Something loosens in my chest. I reach out, hooking a finger under her chin to tilt her face back to mine.
“Monroe, I’ll make anything work with you. I love you, remember? If this is the future you want, we’ll figure it out.” If she thinks something as little as a job is going to be a problem for us, she is seriously mistaken.
“Okay,” she says, mostly to herself, I think. “Okay, yeah. We’ll figure it out.” I love the wayweslips off her tongue when she’s talking about us.
“We. Together. You and me, sweetheart.”
We lie together for as long as we can before I have to get up and start getting ready for the press conference Kelsey has been putting together. It’s important I address everyone with what I have, especially since I presented it all to the commissioner. He has the recording, the paperwork, all of it.
All that’s left to do is put the truth out there.
* * **
I’m unlacing my skates after a quick few loops around the rink to burn off some energy before I go into the press conference when I hear footsteps behind me—too deliberate to be one of the guys.
“Rhodes McKnight.”
I glance over my shoulder, already annoyed at the intrusion into my mental prep time. “Aaron.” He leans against the row of lockers, arms crossed, smug smirk firmly in place. Would it be an overreaction to punch him in the face right now?
“Are you here to have a dick-measuring contest to see who gets to keep Monroe?” I ask flatly, tugging the laces tighter. “Two things you should know. One, my dick is bigger. No contest. And two, she can have me and pursue skating however she wants to, so no need to stake some kind of weird claim.”
Aaron rolls his eyes, but there’s something sharp in his expression—desperation simmering just under the surface.
“I’m here to tell you to just back off,” he bites. “She could get back everything she ever wanted. Nationals. Worlds. Hell, maybe the Olympics again. Hockey dick wasn’t even on the list of things she wanted until recently. You can’t override twenty years of dreams.”
The words hit harder than I expect, low in my gut. I never want to be the thing that holds her back from her dreams. I meant it when I told her we’d figure everything out. But does she really know how much I mean it? That I’d tear my life apart and rebuild it around whatever she wants? She isitfor me.
Aaron doesn’t stop. He presses forward, voice low and bitter. “You know it too. You swooped in andplayed golden hockey savior. This…relationship,” he sneers the word like it’s a joke, “is nothing more than trauma bonding. When she wakes up and realizes her moment’s passed, she’ll hate you for it.”
“Dude, did you hear me at all? I’m not trying to take away her dreams. She can do both. Monroe is perfectly capable of deciding how to prioritize her life.”
“Skating is a singular focus. She can’t do two things.”
Well, that’s just not true. But before I can tell him exactly where to shove his opinion, another voice cuts through the air.
“Oh, can’t I?”
We both whip around. Monroe’s standing at the locker room door, one shoulder propped lazily against the frame, her arms crossed over her chest. She glances down at her nails like she’s bored, and lifts her gaze to pin Aaron in place.
There’s something in her expression—cool, calm, dangerous—that makes me stand up straighter.God,she’s sexy. I bite back a grin at the ferocity on her face.
“Aaron,” she says, voice light but sharp enough to cut glass, “are you trying to get my boyfriend to break up with me?”
He stiffens, lips parting, but she keeps going before he can get a word in.
“That isn’t how this is going to work, I hope you realize that.”
“I want what’s best for you,” he says, the words strained now.
Monroe pushes off the doorframe and walks across the room with deliberate ease, sliding right up next to me. I can feel the heat rolling off her. I loop an armprotectively around her waist, not that she needs it. I need it, I think.
“Out of the two of you, I’m certain it’s Rhodes who cares more about that,” she says, voice steady. “At the very least, he’s letting me work through the decision myself. Which is more than you’re doing right now.”
I don’t say a damn thing. I just lean back against the lockers and watch my girl flay this asshole alive. There’s no fire and brimstone—just the calm, quiet confidence of someone who’s done being pushed around. She’s standing here, holding her own.
Aaron scoffs, the sneer slipping back into place as he looks between us. “When you come to your senses, you know where to find me.”
He turns on his heel, stalking toward the door. Monroe waits, arms folded, perfectly composed.