Vacation’s over, you bastard slugs. Where are you?

Roscoe sent another group text to his teammates, who were already twenty minutes late for practice and ignoring all his attempts to get in touch.

The longer you make me stand around holding my dick, the harder I beat your asses later.

I’m talking to you, ya bunch of sloths.

Are you guys planning to hump the bench all season?

Seriously?

You fuckers suck ass.

He’d given them the week off after last weekend’s tournament, but with training camp starting soon, it was time to buckle down. That meant daily practices, proper nutrition, strength training, and seriously cutting back on late nights. Roscoe had made a whole schedule, hoping to kick it up a notch for all of them, especially the guys who’d taken more time off this summer. They’d been on board when he’d announced it, but here he was, first official day of practice, and the place was a damn ghost town.

Fuck it. He’d give them hell for it later, but he wasn’t about to sideline his own workout to chase down a bunch of apes who should’ve known better.

Roscoe put away his phone and grabbed a stick and puck, lapping the rink to warm up. He was just curving around the back of the net when he heard another pair of blades entering the ice at the other end of the rink.

Stick in hand, he whipped around and charged forward, ready to give them hell. But the figure wobbling on skates was too small and uncoordinated to be one of his teammates.

It was a woman, actually, dressed in black workout pants and a light purple fleece, all of it weighted down with protective padding. She’d apparently covered all the bases—knee and elbow pads, wrist guards, even a helmet and tinted ski goggles.

Chuckling to himself, he watched her from a distance as she skated back and forth across the opposite goal line, her arms outstretched for balance as she propelled herself with one skate. She looked like she was riding a skateboard, and she was determined as hell.

He remembered that feeling as a kid, just trying to keep up with his older brothers, refusing to give up even when his whole body ached with cold and frustration. He gave her a few more minutes to play around, but unfortunately, he couldn’t let her stay all day.

“Hi there,” he finally called out, skating out toward her. She looked up at him and waved, then started making her way over, still pushing off from that one foot, wobbly as hell. “The rink is closed to the public right now,” he said as they approached each other. “There’s an open skate from three to five tonight, if you want to come back then.”

Roscoe slowed to a stop at center ice, but the woman was coming at him fast, no signs of slowing down, no indication that she’d heard a word he’d said. Roscoe braced for impact, but at the last second, she cut her blades to try to stop. The maneuver shifted her trajectory, sending her spinning like a shopping cart with a broken wheel, her arms windmilling like crazy…

“Whoa. Whoa!” Roscoe lunged forward to catch her just before she crashed onto the ice. He grabbed her upper arms, but she slipped again, pitching forward against his chest, bringing with her a wave of lemon-sugar scented air.

No. Not possible…

Roscoe wrapped his arms around her instinctively, muscle memory taking over as he tightened their embrace. It was her. No one else had ever felt so damn much like home.

“Ally.” It was barely a breath, his heart slamming up into his throat, choking off his voice.

After a moment that felt like forever, she finally straightened, reaching up to remove her helmet and goggles, a curtain of blonde hair spilling out.

“Hi,” she said softly, tucking her hair behind her ears. She was winded, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold.

Roscoe blinked, not trusting his eyes. “You… You’re on skates.”

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

“On the ice.”

“I know.”

“You’re ice skating.”

Ally laughed, a musical sound that had been haunting his dreams for so long, Roscoe worried he’d never woken up this morning. Was he here on the rink, or still back home in bed? Was Ally really standing in front of him—on skates?

“I’m not sure I’d call what I’m doing actual ice skating,” she said. “But I haven’t broken any bones yet, so I’m calling that a win.”

“But… I don’t…”

Roscoe trailed off. God, there were so many ways to finish that sentence. I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why you ever left. I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to survive without you…

“Eva was kind enough to give me a few pointers.” Ally blew out a breath. “Okay, by pointers, I mean she brutalized me every night after work this week. God, that woman is ferocious. I never want to see another clipboard as long as I live.”

Roscoe shook his head, still not trusting that any of this was really happening. “Do I have you to thank for my boys skipping out on practice?”

Ally lowered her gaze, her dark lashes brushing her cheeks. Roscoe fought the urge to touch them, to kiss them. “Eva helped me arrange everything.”

“I see.” He tapped his stick against the ice, nerves getting the better of him. Seeing her again, hearing her voice and her laughter, inhaling her sweet scent… It would be so easy to kiss her right now. To fall right back into her arms, if that’s what she wanted. Fall right back into where they left off.

And set himself up for another round of heartbreak.

Fuck. There was no way he’d survive a second round of that.

But double fuck. He still loved her. More than ever.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw as he took in her outfit. “So. You thinking of trying out for the team with all this gear?”

“No.” She looked up at him again, her brown eyes glittering with tears. “I’m trying out for you.”

Roscoe blew out another breath, tightening his grip on the stick. “Ally, I—”

“You don’t have to say a word. It’s all me. I’m here because I totally screwed up, and I need you to know how truly, deeply sorry I am.” She took a shuddering breath and pressed on. “I never planned to fall in love with you, Roscoe. It just wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Ouch.” He ignored the burn in his gut and forced out a laugh. “You’re not helping your case here, Al.”

“But it did happen,” she continued. “I fell in love with you. With the way you made me feel inside and out, the way you encouraged and cared for my daughter, the way you stood by my side, even as I was doing everything in my power to keep you at a distance. In your arms, my fears and anxieties dimmed, and I felt like I could do anything.” In a whisper that damn near broke him, she said, “I really, really liked that woman, Roscoe.”

Roscoe smiled softly, despite himself. “I liked her too.”

She nodded, the silence creeping in again. She seemed to be gathering her thoughts, trying to put the rest into words without breaking the fragile peace between them.

“How’s Reggie?” he asked.

“She’s great. We’ve started grief counseling.”

“Wow. Big step.” Huge. He knew how hard that must’ve been for her. For both of them.

Ally nodded. “We’ve only had two sessions so far—one together, and then we each had our own. We’ve, um… We’ve started sorting through some of Dan’s things for donation, and that’s been surprisingly helpful, too. Just to talk about him again, remember his life. It’s… It’s been good.” Ally smiled again. “Reg misses you,” she said, then rushed to add, “I don’t mean that in a guilt-trip kind of way. Just… You mean a lot to her, no matter what. She’s excited to come to your games.”

Roscoe nodded, but didn’t speak. Couldn’t. One word, and he’d fucking lose it. All summer he’d seen Reggie at least twice a week for practice, sometimes more, and then it was just… just gone. No eye-rolls or snarky comments or witty insights. He missed them both so much.

In the week since the tournament, he’d thrown himself into his training again, pushing hard all day and crashing at night, leaving little room for contemplating what could’ve been. What should’ve been. But now, Ally was right here. Telling him that Reggie missed him.

Fuck.

“Roscoe,” she said, “you were right about me that night. The control thing? I was fooling myself. And instead of dealing with that fear, that reality, I freaked out and took away your control, too. I guess I just… I thought I could protect you, you know? Like I tried to do with Reggie’s hockey. I went ahead and decided what was best for both of us without giving you a chance, and I was dead wrong.” Tears fell freely now, streaking her cheeks, but Ally pressed on. “I don’t know where you stand, and maybe I don’t have a right to ask. Maybe I don’t even have a right to be here after everything I put you through. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second. And maybe I screwed up so badly you never want to see my face again, and I get it. But I’m here right now on these stupid ice skates risking a head injury and hypothermia because I wanted to meet you on your ground. I need you to know I’m in love with you, Roscoe. The timing kind of sucks and I’m still mostly a mess, but I’m trying. Every day I’m trying.”

Roscoe remained pinned to his spot on the ice, hands still wrapped around the stick, his face giving nothing away as he tried to process all she’d said.

I’m in love with you, Roscoe…

How fucking long had he waited to hear those words again, to feel her warm breath on his lips as she spoke, to see the look in her eyes and know that she meant it?

“W-what…” he stammered, his voice sticking in his throat. “What exactly are you saying?”

Ally swept away the last of her tears with her gloved fingers, then met his gaze again, steely and determined as ever. “I meant what I said before—I have a long road ahead of me, and I would never ask you to put your life on hold for me while I figure it all out. But if you’re able to forgive me, to consider letting me back into your life again, even a little bit… I know I’ve given you a hundred reasons to doubt me, and it would take a long time to earn your trust again—if that’s even possible. But I want to try.” Her voice broke as she spoke her final plea. “I am so in love with you, it hurts. I know it’s messy and complicated, but I know it can be beautiful, too. Please, please give me another chance to show you.”

Roscoe’s heart ached all over again. Ally was right—the timing did suck. She and Reggie needed to focus on healing, on rebuilding their own relationship after their monumental loss. Roscoe was still hurting from their breakup, from the way she’d pushed him out. And soon the regular season would be starting, and he needed to focus on his team, on his performance, on the grueling schedule that came with a gig like this.

But despite the ache, Roscoe’s heart was already healing, knitting itself back together with every beat, with every word Ally had spoken, every breath she’d taken. He knew how much it must’ve cost her to come here today, to open herself up again and bare her soul.

And she’d done it all on skates, besides.

“There’s something you need to know.” He dropped his stick and skated closer, gripping her shoulders, pinning her with his own fiery gaze. “I have no intention of putting my life on hold for you, Ally.”

Her bottom lip quivered, but she nodded, her shoulders stiffening. “I… I understand. I’m sorry I—”

“No, you don’t understand.” He slid his hands down to her arms, searching for her warmth beneath all the padding. “I said I have no intention of putting my life on hold. If we do this, I’m going all in. I’m walking by your side through all of it—your past, your present, your future—no matter how hard or scary or ugly things get.” Roscoe tightened his grip. “I’m in stupid love with you, Ally Heinz. So when I say I want in, I fucking mean it. So yeah, if we do this? We’re doing it all the way. I am never, ever letting you push me out like that again.”

A smile broke across her face, her eyes glazing with emotion. “Really?”

“Really. I think you’re…” Roscoe closed his eyes, trying to remember a phrase the kids had once used. “Amazing balls.”

Ally burst out laughing. “Pretty sure you mean ‘amazeballs,’ and pretty sure no one over the age of eighteen is allowed to say it.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” He opened his eyes looked at her a long time, cataloging every one of the gold flecks in her deep brown eyes, the sweep of dark lashes, the soft arches of her eyebrows. This wasn’t a dream. Wasn’t wishful thinking. She’d come back to him. “You are worth it, Ally.”

“You sure you want this? All of this?”

Roscoe nodded. “The whole messy, complicated, beautiful package. You?”

“Yes. The whole package.” Ally bit her lip, her body trembling beneath his touch, their mouths so suddenly close he could taste her sweet breath on his tongue when she spoke again. “Aren’t you scared?”

“Absolutely terrified.” He crushed her mouth in a bruising kiss, sliding his hands up to cup her head, fisting her silky hair. Ally parted her lips, and Roscoe groaned into her mouth, sweeping his tongue over hers, pulling her even closer as he drank her in. For weeks, he’d hungered for this kiss with a desperation of a madman, and now he couldn’t get enough, the sweet, familiar taste of her mouth sending a current of raw desire straight to his cock.

He backed her up on the ice, keeping her balanced as he skated her to the penalty box, so fucking thankful the boys had bailed today. The bench was a cold, hard second to the pillow-soft comforts of a bed, but he’d waited too long for this moment already.

They stepped into the box, and Roscoe unlaced her skates, then kicked off his own as Ally removed all her extra padding and gear. He helped her out of her workout pants and freed himself from his, guiding her to straddle him on the bench. She was already wet for him, her heat radiating onto his cock, making him even harder for her.

“I missed you,” he said, nipping at her lower lip as he rolled the condom over his shaft.

“I can tell.” She slid closer, teasing him with a slow, seductive roll of her hips, making him shiver. “Confession,” she whispered. “I missed you, too.”

He gripped her hips, lifting her up and guiding himself inside her. She was so fucking tight, so perfect, and Roscoe gasped at the feeling, his head falling forward on her shoulder as she slid her hands into his hair and whispered his name.

They stilled, each of them taking a moment to come back, to remember, to feel this closeness and hold it in their hearts. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, then captured her mouth in another desperate kiss, sliding his hands up inside her layers of shirts, seeking the smooth, hot skin of her back. Grabbing her shoulders, he arched his hips and thrust inside of her, urging her body into a rhythmic pulse as she writhed in his arms, gasping for breath.

Neither of them would last long, but it didn’t matter. They’d have plenty of time to make up for it later. Right now, he just wanted to feel her come, to hear her call his name as he brought her over the edge. As he made her his.

She kissed him harder, her breath shallow and hot, and he felt her body tightening around his cock, both of them pulsing with heat. Sliding his hand down to where their bodies met, his fingers teased her clit, urging her closer and closer to the release she’d gone so long without.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel so fucking perfect.” He couldn’t hold back. Not for another second.

“Let go,” she whispered, her thighs tightening around him. “Let go, Roscoe.”

And that was all it took.

He came with a shudder, slamming into her as she rolled her head back and shattered, both of them trembling as wave after wave of pure pleasure wracked their bodies, wringing out everything they had, leaving them spent and panting in each other’s arms.

Right. It was just fucking right.

After minutes that felt like an eternity, Roscoe wrapped his arms around her and smiled, brushing a soft kiss across her lips, still trying to figure out how the fuck this all happened.

He couldn’t explain it—how fast they’d fallen, how much they’d been through, how they’d found their way back to each other. And in the end, it really didn’t matter.

Because here was their story—the part that mattered, anyway:

Once upon a time, this crazy hockey mom stormed out onto the ice and crash-landed into his arms. After a long and winding journey, she’d found her way right back into his arms, exactly where they’d started. Exactly where she belonged.

And this time? They would live happily ever after.