Page 91 of Game Misconduct

“Right now, you’re doing the exact same thing. You’re holding yourself back, even if it’s subconsciously. You’re not letting yourself experience all the highs and lows of life because you’re so focused on this painful memory.”

I swallow. “I don’t know how to move past it.”

“It takes time.”

“It’s been fifteen years.” Frustrated, I swipe at my still-leaking eyes. It’s like now that I’ve turned on the faucet, I can’t turn it back off. Fuck.

“You have to forgive yourself. You can still feel your feelings, but you have to let go of the guilt.”

She traces her thumb beneath my eye, catching an errant drop.

“There is nothing you can do to change what happened. There’s no magical cure to make it stop hurting. But you also can’t let it consume you. There has to be a middle ground.”

“My dad… he came to the rink.”

“Do you want to see him? Maybe mend fences?” Her tone, though curious, lacks judgment.

“No. I never want to see him again.” That, I’m sure about.

Bex presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “Then you won’t. Stay firm to your boundaries, and start the hard work of healing. It won’t be easy. It won’t be quick. But it will be worth it in the end.”

Scooping her into my arms, I roll my body over hers, tangling our legs together. We fit perfectly together, her soft curves to my hard muscles. If there’s such thing as heaven, it’s this, right here.

But in order for our relationship to be successful, I have to work on myself too. And that includes finding happiness and fulfillment in other aspects of my life. We’ll never survive if my entire world revolves around her. I need friends and hobbies. I need a life.

In this moment, I resolve to do better. To be better. For her, and for us.

“What did I do to deserve you?” I murmur, before I bury my face in her neck.

Her hand weaves through my hair, then, with a sharp yank, tugs me back until our eyes meet. Her stares pins me, sharp and assessing.

“Our relationship doesn’t work on keeping score. We’re equals in everything that matters.” Her gaze softens. “I want to be your partner. Your equal. We don’t have to do anything to deserve each other. We have to respect this, and each other.”

“I do. Respect you, that is.”

“I know.” She releases me, but I stay propped up above her, cataloging the warmth of her amber eyes, the little constellation of freckles beneath them, the wisps of copper strands at her hairline. “We wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t.”

An emotion I can’t quite identify clogs my throat.

“I really like you, Bex Marie,” I eke out.

“I really like you, too,” she murmurs.

And when she kisses me, I finally let myself believe.

I finally let myself fall.

And she’s there to catch me.