Page 21 of He Has Santa (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“Junie.” That’s all I can say as I lean forward, reach for her, cupping the back of her head in my hand as if I’m worried that she’ll try and resist. But there’s no resistance in her as I move my face close to hers. My hands shake, everything in me shakes as I hold my lips apart from her, hovering so close I suck in her breaths, tasting the sweetness and saltiness of her; all the electric vibrancy that comes with our connection runs through me.
“You love me? Still?” I need to know. To hell with her mother’s opinion or her backhand supposition that she might be right. I need a full-blown confirmation. I need enthusiastic words to quench me after six years of thirsting.
She nods, still silent, still depriving me, so I hold her still and demand. “Tell me. Why should I believe you after all this time?”
“Because it’s true.” A tear appears and drops, and she moves to swipe at it, but I stop her. I know she’s mortified because Junie doesn’t like crying in front of anyone, doesn’t like to be vulnerable, and that’s what I need her to do for me. To prove to me she’s mine. “Logan… please. You know I’m still in love with you. You know, because I can feel it between us. I never thought I would feel it again, never thought you’d forgive me.” tears are streaming now. “I still don’t deserve you, but Nicky does—”
“You both have me.” I crush my mouth to hers now. Our lips smash together, satisfying my thirst as they part, and my tongue plunges deep, capturing hers, capturing all she has to offer. She gives me everything back that she has, wrapping her arms around me, raking her fingers through my hair, whispering my name into the tangle of our mouths.
A car drives toward us on the small street, their lights flashing through the windshield, and I know we can’t stay here, can’t go any further whether we want to or not, whether we should or not, whether we’re rushing things or not.
Separating from her by degrees, my breathing heavy, our eyes remain locked. She shivers.
“My God, Logan. If Nicky wasn’t in the back seat, I’d think we just went back in time six years. It’s so, so strange and yet…”
“So right,” I say.
She puts a shaky hand to her chest. “Yes. Tonight, it’s right. But will—”
“Will you still love me in the morning?”
She laughs, sounding and looking wild and so much like her eighteen-year-old self that I almost need to look in the mirror to reassure myself that I’m no longer that kid.
“So, what’s the answer, Junie? Will you still love me in the morning, or will you find some excuse to chicken out?” Need forces the issue. Maybe I’m not as strong as I need to be, not yet. But I remind myself I’m not on this journey alone. My eyes flick to the rear-view mirror to see Nicky asleep, cuddled and angelic, and I want to make sure she stays that way, not asleep, but as blissfully at peace as I can possibly make her.
“The answer is yes. If I’ve still loved you for the last six years in spite of my tremendous effort not to, then I don’t see how one more night can change that.” She sighs and moves back into her seat, still looking at me. “I never wanted to be so vulnerable to losing you to someone else. To have a life with you and then have it snatched away.” She shakes her head and gives a derisive snort. “But my grand plan to snatch it away from myself backfired, didn’t it? Aside from having Nicky—which has been absolutely wonderful and taught me a lot about life—I haven’t been happy. I’ve been missing you and mourning the mistake I made every single day.”
My head must be spinning because I feel dizzy like someone hit me, but not in a bad way. More like the kind of dizziness you get on an amusement park ride, the kind that tilts your world out of whack and whirls you around, making you giddy. But I’m not the kind of guy who admits to being giddy.
“You’re rocking my world right now, Junie.” I glance into the back seat. “We need to tell her. Like tomorrow.”
She nods. “She gets back from school at three. When’s your practice over?”
