Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
With that, we stride toward the press room. Normally, Everly only corrals the Sea Dogs players for post-game comments, but tonight, with the brother-versus-brother angle, she’s wrangled Tyler for a statement too. The press can’t resist the photo ops of the two Falcons in the NHL.
Me? I’m on my way out. “Catch you guys later,” I say, stepping aside when they reach the media room.
“You’re not staying to rub it in?” Tyler asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Nope,” I say, nodding down the hall. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”
Miles smirks. “His wife and his dads are here. Pretty sure it’s his wife he’s rushing to see.”
With that word—wife—Tyler’s smile fades as something dark flickers in his eyes. It’s subtle but unmistakable—a shadow of someone who’s been through the wringer when it comes to love. His jaw tightens for just a moment before he nods. “See you later.”
If it were another night, another time, I’d ask how he’s doing. But we both have places to be, so I give a crisp nod to my rival, then look to my teammate. “Thanks for the tips on how to score on your brother, Miles,” I call out over my shoulder.
“Don’t forget—I know your secrets, Callahan,” Miles fires back with a grin.
Shit. He does. I backtrack. “No shame, Falcon. I slept with a stuffed rabbit myself.”
“Good man,” Miles says, and with that, he and Tyler disappear into the media room.
In my post-game suit, I walk down the hallway, the noise of the arena fading behind me, my thoughts drifting ahead to Maeve. For a moment, I let the scene play out in my mind. Days like today. Nights like this one. A life with her.
It hits me hard, nearly stopping me in my tracks. This deep, heady desire—this overwhelming need for her to be here, to be with me. To be part of my life in every way that counts.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to catch my breath. The intensity of it all—the desire to make it happen—surges through me.
I want this. I need this.
Before I reach Maeve and my dads, I check my phone. There’s a response to the calls I made earlier—some texts letting me know that yes, what I want is possible.
Good. That’s really good. Because one thing I learned after googling “how to make your wife fall in love with you” is to be the man she needs, to give her what she wants, to be there for her.
I can do that. I will do that.
When I finally reach Mrs. Callahan at the end of the corridor, I tug playfully on her jersey then plant a kiss on her cheek. She startles with a soft “oh,” then touches the spot where my lips just were. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” I reply, as the scent of her sweet plum body spray works its magic. I’m unable to resist her. I drop another kiss to her lips, quick but lingering, savoring the feel of her. Maeve at my game, sitting with my dads—it’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.
I turn to my dads. “Glad you guys could make it. Especially since I was pretty fucking good tonight.”
“Language,” John chides.
“J-dad, where do you think I learned it?”
Carlos gasps in mock surprise. “Babe,” he says to John.
He just shrugs but smiles as he says, “Can we take you two out for a bite to eat?”
It’s said like that’s all the two of them could want—time with Maeve and me. I glance at Maeve, and her eyes are already shining with a yes.
“Sounds great,” I say.
As the four of us slide into a booth at Sticks and Stones a little later and order a late dinner, I can’t shake the feeling that this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her, laughing and teasing, talking and eating. I’d do just about anything to bottle this moment, to recreate it for her—to give her the moon.
The door clicks shut behind us as we step into the quiet of the house, heading up from the garage, leaving the cool night air behind. After we toe off our shoes, we head to the kitchen, like we both feel an inevitable pull to keep the evening going—or really, the talking. I toss my suit jacket on the back of a stool. She sheds her jacket, the jersey still on. Flicking on the light, she leans against the cool, marble countertop, the soft hum of the fridge filling the silence for a moment. There’s a warmth in the air that wasn’t there outside, and her small, thoughtful smile tells me she’s still replaying the evening in her mind.
“Did you have a nice time?” I ask, moving closer, my fingers brushing the hem of her shirt.
“I did,” she says with a nod. “Your dads are…really wonderful. They made me feel so welcome.” She hesitates, her expression shifting, more pensive now. “It kind of made me miss my parents.”