The Romance Line (Love and Hockey Book 2)
The Romance Line: Chapter 50

Max

My joints are stiff. My muscles bark. My neck is filing a lawsuit against me for indecent sleep. But when I finally manage to open my tired eyes and fumble around for my phone on the console, two beautiful notes flash on the screen.

The first is from Everly, and it makes my heart soar. I grip the phone tight almost like I’m hugging it in my hand. I needed this . I needed this from her so badly. But I need her even more. One quick glance at the time and I get the hell out of my car before the sun comes up. I’m not going to try to buy her love back with gifts, but at the same time, I’ve got a streak going.

And athletes don’t mess with streaks.

I google the nearest coffee shop, place an order to go, then jog down the street to Doctor Insomnia’s two blocks from here. But along the way, I catch a scent of my morning breath .

That won’t do. When I dart into the shop a minute later to scoop up the order, I spy some mints at the counter. I buy a pack and stuff some in my mouth, chewing off the morning breath as I rush back to Everly’s place with her daily morning London fog latte. Outside her place, I peer upstairs. The light’s on.

Good.

I park myself on the steps of her building as the sun slowly peeks above the pale blue light of the horizon, pulling up a new day with it. Stretching my neck from side to side, I answer the other note on my phone as I wait for her to come downstairs. As I do, I feel…hope.

Because of her.

Because even when I freaked the fuck out, she looked out for me. She sent me this text last night. She didn’t want me to wake up and worry that we were over.

I need to earn her trust. Every damn day.

Five minutes later, the door swings open.

“Oh!” She stops in place, startled.

I stand and thrust out the cup. “Hi. It’s your morning London fog latte. Personal delivery. And today’s order comes with an apology,” I say, then I don’t waste any time speaking straight from the heart. Owning my shit. “I fucked up last night and made a mistake with the things I said, and I promise I’m going to try to do better if you’ll let me.”

Her smile is like the sun rising, slowly, beautifully, lighting up the dawn. Her big brown eyes tour my frame as an eyebrow rises. “Why are you wearing the same clothes as last night?”

I glance down at my purple shirt. It’s wrinkled and probably stinks. My hair’s a bigger mess than usual. “I slept in my car. ”

She shakes her head like there’s water in her ears. “You slept in your car?”

But the sleeping arrangements make perfect sense to me. “I wanted to be here when you woke up. To deliver your drink. And to take you to work. And to say I’m sorry. And most of all to tell you I love you so damn much,” I say, and that smile of hers? It grows ten million times bigger. But I have more to say. So much more. “You don’t need to say it back. I don’t expect an I love you . I’m not telling you to get it in return. This is how I feel, and I want you to know that I am all in. I believe in you. I believe in us. I trust that this real favorite thing we have is going to work, and I will do whatever you need from me to make this easy. Just let me know.”

She takes the cup, lowers it to the concrete, and loops her arms around my neck. The last remnants of the tension I woke up with miraculously fade away thanks to her touch. I shudder from the feel of her hands on me once again. Her fingers play with the ends of my hair.

“I have a bunch of things to say, but the most important is this—I love you too, Max Lambert,” she says, and those words are all I’ve wanted to hear from her, and I am so damn glad she didn’t listen to me and make me wait for them. I need them now, like I need her now.

She kisses me, and her kiss is everything good in the world, but it stops too soon. When she breaks it, she shoots me a curious look, asking, “Why do you taste like a mint farm?”

With a laugh, I nod to my car. “See above. I slept in my car. So I ate a bunch of mints this morning.”

“I can’t believe you slept in your car,” she says, sounding kind of amazed, and maybe even delighted.

I curl my hands around her waist, not caring if her neighbors or anyone else sees us right now. She lets me hold her too, telling me she doesn’t care either. “I slept in my car because I needed to be here when you woke up. I needed to be here to bring you your latte. Because I want you to know I will show up for you every day. Even if I make a mistake, I will keep showing up. I spiraled because of my past and my fears, but they have nothing to do with you, and you’re not responsible for them. I am. And I promise I will do better. And I wanted to tell you that. And also I really needed to tell you that I love you.” I kiss her forehead. “I love you.” I kiss her eyelids. “I love you.” I kiss those beautiful lips and taste all her love too.

When we break the kiss, she strokes my beard slowly, like she’s memorizing the feel of me. Maybe confirming I’m really here with her. “And I love you, Max. So much,” she says softly but with the strength too that I know is bone-deep in her. “But there are other things I need to say.”

I give a crisp nod. I didn’t expect to spackle over last night with an I love you and a latte. We need words too. “I’m listening,” I say.

She lets go of my neck then sets her hands on my shoulders, giving herself a little space perhaps to say what needs to be said. “You hurt me last night when you asked if I was using you for a promotion. I hope you know I would never do that.”

“I know,” I say, ashamed I went there.

“That’s not who I am,” she says, as if she’s imploring me to understand. “I would never use you. Everything I feel for you is so real. And trust me, I tried, I really tried, to fight how I was feeling for you.”

A smile tugs at my lips, but I deny it, focusing instead on her. “I know you did, sunshine. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“Yes, I want the promotion, and yes, I want to be with you. And, like my friend Fable said, both things can be true at once.”

I nod again, because she makes perfect sense. “She’s right.”

“And I didn’t start planning what to say to my boss yet because it’s terrifying,” she says, her tone so vulnerable as she lets me deeper into her heart. “I don’t have any idea how she’s going to respond. I don’t know how they’ll handle it. I don’t know if I’m going to be fired,” she says, desperation coloring her tone, and I hate that dismissal is even a possibility for her. “And that’s why I needed to wait till we got through the last event and dinner. Not because I was putting off this big thing that needs to be done, but because I didn’t want to be overwhelmed with everything that it entails.”

“I get it now. I appreciate you explaining it to me.”

She takes a beat, as if she’s gearing up to say something harder. “Sometimes I do get overwhelmed. Sometimes my mind fixates on the past and what happened three years ago. Sometimes I picture it and remember it so clearly I’m afraid I can’t move forward. That I’m going to be stuck in that night all over again,” she says, and with a deep breath that seems to steady her, she keeps going. “When that happens, I do these grounding exercises to stay in the moment. I haven’t told you about them before because there wasn’t really a need. It’s just something I do in my head. Something I learned about in therapy after the accident. I catalog my surroundings and it helps me stay in the moment so that I don’t get lost in the past.”

My heart aches for her, for all she’s endured, but it also thumps louder and harder over the ways she starts over and how she thrives as she moves past that terrible day. “I hate what you went through—all of it, just all of it. Every single part. But I’m so glad you have these…” I pause, thinking of the best words to use. “Tools. Coping mechanisms. And I love learning all of these details about you—even the ones that are hard for you to share. Maybe especially those. So thank you for telling me that.”

She gives me a soft smile. “I want you to know me. I want us to know each other. And part of why I’m telling you this is that I can’t always plan everything all at once. If I do, I’m going to get overwhelmed with the future too.” Her hands grip my shoulders tighter as she continues, “I’m truly trying to live and make the best decisions I can for each day. That’s the only reason I didn’t make a detailed plan yet. Because I didn’t want to spiral either. But I already submitted a calendar request for Monday morning. That way I can plan what to say over the weekend. I can rehearse it with my friends. And go into the meeting from a position of strength.”

My heart catapults in my chest. “You already requested the meeting?”

“I did it when I woke up.”

“Fuck, I love you,” I say, then I laugh lightly. “Also, I think you’re better at not spiraling than I am.” I reach for her right hand on my shoulder and press a soft kiss to her palm, then I link my fingers through hers. “I love that you told me about what’s going on inside your head. I love understanding you better and knowing you better. You’ve let me in, and I want you to know I’ll do everything I can to support you. And also to listen.”

“You are a great listener,” she says. “But I do need to point out that you’re wrong about one thing that you said.”

I furrow my brow. “What’s that?”

“You said your fears and your past have nothing to do with me.” She pauses for a moment. “But they do matter to me because I care about you. Because I love you. And because I want to be your safe space too just like you’ve been for me. You don’t have to be perfect for me to love you. You don’t have to be the perfect man for me to stay with you. Just be you. It’s okay if you feel doubts now and then. It’s okay if you worry. Just talk to me about them like we’re in this together rather than apart, okay?”

I understand now that it wasn’t so much how I felt last night but how I handled those feelings. It was my tone. It was the way my questions came out like accusations. But her willingness to love me with all my flaws just makes me fall even harder. “How do you make me fall more in love with you every single second?”

Her smile is like sunshine. “It’s my special skill.”

“You’re excellent at it. Don’t ever stop.”

“Same to you.”

But then more seriously, I add, “I want to keep earning your love, Everly. Every damn day.”

She rolls her eyes. “Shut up. You had me at London fog latte.”

I relax again, flashing her a grin. “I won you over that day I bought you one in Seattle, didn’t I?”

She plays with the wrinkled collar of my shirt as she says, “I couldn’t stand you, but yes, you also won me over…because, guess what? Two things can be true at once.”

This is officially the best day ever. I don’t even try to act cool. “So I’m really your type. I was right. ”

She laughs. “Yes. Maybe even especially because you slept in your car to wait for me and deliver a latte.” She bends to pick it up and takes a drink, then hands it to me—an offering. I down some; it’s not my favorite drink, but I don’t care, especially when she says, “You’ve been so patient with me. And so sweet, and so…” Her voice catches. “Uplifting. The way you tell me I’m beautiful makes me feel…like…like I am living my best life.”

That is all I want for her. Well, not true. I want something else too. “Sunshine, live it with me.”

“I will.” She drops her mouth to mine and kisses me—a tender, London fog kiss as the sun rises on a December morning. It warms not only my heart but my whole entire soul that has come back to life thanks to her.

But even though I could spend all day here, she has a meeting to go to so I break the kiss, hand her the cup, and say, “Let me drive you to work. So we can get you to that meeting on time.” Then I add, “And so I get more time with you.”

Because there’s one more thing I need to tell her.