Fifteen minutes till closing.

Close enough.

“Wrap it up, Logan.” Bex clicked off the neon Big Laurie’s sign over the bar. “Last call was an hour ago.”

“Need any help cleaning up?”

“Just need you to get on home so I can do the same.”

He tossed back the last of his whiskey sour, then pulled out his wallet, counting out exact change. “Four bucks, right?”

“Four-fifty.” I should charge him double. Bex sighed. “You know what? Never mind. On the house.”

“Yeah? Cool.” Scooping up all of his dollar bills and shoving them back into his wallet—of course—he said, “For the record? I wouldn’t let my fiancée close a bar by herself.”

“Then don’t propose to a bartender. Problem solved.”

“Bex, that guy—what’s his name? Henry? He’s no good for you. You need a man who—”

“The only thing I need right now is for this man—a.k.a. you—to turn around and walk out that door.” She jerked her head toward the exit. “Good night, Logan.”

“I could wait for—”

“Good night, Logan.”

God. Were all men seriously that dense?

Finally, the lunkhead zipped up his coat and scooted out of there, leaving her alone for the first time all day.

She washed out his glass by hand, then set it in the drying rack with the others, checking that she hadn’t left any stray glassware or dishes around. She moved on to the beer taps, wiping them down with care, then the liquor bottles, checking the nozzles and turning them all face-forward. The floor had already been mopped, the grill turned off and cleaned, all the water rings polished from the bar.

Closing had always been Bex’s favorite part of the night. There was something cathartic and deeply satisfying about working alone in the quiet pub, restoring order from chaos.

Keeping thoughts of Henny at bay.

Seeing him tonight before the game had been one of the hardest moments of her life. She’d gone in there wanting to say so many things—I’m sorry. I’m in love with you. Can we hit the reset button on this?—but in the end, all of her carefully rehearsed speeches had abandoned her.

No, there would be no second chance at love for Bex and Henny. Best she could do now was accept it and move forward, hoping that eventually they’d be able to rebuild some semblance of friendship.

Her throat tightened, but she swallowed her sadness. She had work to do. Then she’d head home for the night, slip into her bed, and drift off to dreamland.

Alone.

Bex shut off the main lights over the bar area, then moved on to the pool table room, picking up a couple of cues the players had left on the table. She was about to slide them back into the wall rack when she heard the front door whoosh open.

“Logan, you are seriously pissing me off.” Brandishing a pool cue, she spun around on her heel. “I swear I’m going to call the cops if—”

“Tell me something, beautiful.” He stepped out of the shadows, offering a familiar smile that melted her heart, his ocean-blue eyes warm and soft and utterly, completely home. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a beer in this place?”

“Henny,” she gasped. Her mouth went dry, heart leaping up into her throat. “I thought… what are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood. And I’m thirsty.”

“You… oh. Right. Well, last call was—”

“Bex.” Henny sighed. “I don’t give a fuck about the beer.” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping her face, his smile faltering. “I, uh… I couldn’t… Seeing you today… And then you were gone, and I didn’t…” He shook his head, blowing out a breath, then held up a gift bag stuffed with tissue paper. “Here. It’s a jersey.”

“Spoiler alert.”

He smiled. “Sorry.”

Bex set the cue on the pool table and peeked inside the bag, spotting the Tempest blue and silver. “Let me guess. Your numbers?”

“Better late than never, right?”

She pulled the jersey out of the bag and held it up in front of her chest, blinking back tears. Had it only been a couple of months ago that he’d joked about this? That he’d asked her to burn Kooz’s jersey, never to wear another man’s numbers again?

“Thank you,” she whispered, her throat raw and tight. “It’s now officially my favorite jersey.”

“Shit. It’s not about the jersey, either. I’m totally screwing this up. Again.” Henny ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in every direction. She wanted to touch it. To feel it between her thighs. To let it tickle her nose, her lips, her cheeks as he kissed her goodnight. Good morning. And everything in between…

“This is nuts,” Henny continued. “Can we get a do-over here? Because I’m pretty sure I just fucked up the best thing in my life. You’re my best friend, Bex. I never wanted to hurt you. And I definitely don’t want to lose you.”

She sucked in a breath, lowering her eyes. Her body trembled. Hope? Fear? Love? It was all there, roiling inside her, urging her to bolt for the door. No more complications. No more overanalyzing. No more painfully awkward conversations or accidental morning-afters. Just freedom. Just Bex.

Just run.

But Bex didn’t run. Instead, she took a steadying breath and lifted her chin. Looked him in the eyes.

And then she told the truth.

“I used to know everything about you, Hen. I could predict your moods, read your thoughts, finish your sentences. But I don’t know where you’re at anymore—not with me or anything else. And that scares the hell out of me.”

Nodding, he touched her cheek, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. After going so long without it, his gentle caress made her shiver. Three or four times he took a breath and opened his mouth to speak, only to clamp it shut again.

Bex didn’t push him to explain. She was beginning to understand the difference between backing down out of fear, and simply leaving a little space. Time. Room to breathe.

No matter how hard it was to wait, sometimes that was exactly what love needed in order to grow.

“I fucked up a good thing,” he finally said, “and I’m asking for another shot. We’re friends, yes. Always will be, no matter what dumb shit comes out of my mouth. But we have a chance to crack this thing open, build something even more amazing on top of it. I don’t want to do that with anyone else. Never have. For me, there’s only you.”

Her heart kicked up again as she remembered that night in her office, all the things he’d said. “All or nothing, right?”

Henny held her gaze a long time before he spoke again. “I was an asshole. It was selfish and stupid of me to say those things.”

“But not bullshit, right? I mean, that’s how you feel.”

Henny sighed. “You coming back to Buffalo… It sent me on this wild trip, but it was like riding a roller coaster in the dark. After all the time we spent apart, having you back again stirred up so much for me, things I didn’t understand. Things I didn’t want to admit. I was losing my mind, screwing up on the ice, totally spinning. When we woke up in your bed that morning… Hell, I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I freaked. I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening, to talk myself out of what I was feeling. But no matter what I did, all roads led right back to you. Every single one.”

He paced the room, then stopped in front of her again, so close she could smell the fabric softener in his clothes.

“You’re my home,” he said. “My fucking heart. I’m crazy in love with you, Bex. Not because we got drunk and hooked up, not because I needed a distraction, but because of who you are. Because I fucking admire the fierce girl I knew in high school and the badass woman you’ve become. Because of who I am when I’m with you—who you let me be—even if I don’t always show it to you. I love that you know how to make pie charts and nothing in your house matches and you put kale on your nachos. I love that you have so many stupid fucking magnets they fall off the fridge every time I open it. I love that you snore, but only in the mornings. I love that you let me read your diary when we were seventeen, and that even after knowing you for twenty-five years, I’m still learning your secrets.”

Henny leaned back against the pool table and closed his eyes, finally taking a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. Resigned. “So yeah, I want it all with you. But if you can’t give me that, I get it. I’ll take whatever you’re offering. Just friends? No, I don’t like it. But it’s a hell of a lot better than not having you in my life at all.”

Bex could hardly breathe. Her body was warm and buzzing, her heart full.

“Say something,” he whispered, opening his eyes to look at her once more.

Bex cracked a smile. A small one at first, then it grew, stretching across her face until her cheeks hurt. “First of all, I don’t snore, and secondly, I didn’t let you read my diary. You stole it, and then I found it shoved under your mattress.”

Henny raised a brow. “What were you doing under my mattress?”

“Hello? Looking for porn.”

“Should’ve checked my health textbook.”

Bex’s jaw dropped. “You stashed porn in your health textbook?”

“What else was I supposed to do in that boring-ass class?”

“I don’t know… Pay attention? Learn something?”

“From old Mrs. Farnsworth? That woman brought in vegetables to re-enact the entire human reproductive process. I couldn’t eat salad until my late twenties.”

“You really are a man-baby.”

“Hey. Until you’ve seen a cucumber fuck a grapefruit, don’t judge.”

Bex cracked up. It felt good to laugh with him again. Her Henny. Her best friend. Blowing out a breath, she said, “These last couple weeks without you have sucked some serious ass.”

“You’re telling me.” Henny’s smile finally faded, his eyes turning serious. “I meant what I said, Bex. About us. Whatever you want, just—”

“Turn around,” she demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“Turn around. Hands on the pool table.”

“Kinky.” Raising a brow, he did as she asked. “So we’re going with friends with benefits, then? That’s your final answer?”

Bex took a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to slow.

Loving Henny was so much more than friendship with benefits. It was mutual respect. Admiration. Compromise. Sacrifice. All the things that would bind them close, keep them together when the crazy-hot pool table sex faded and life was doing its damnedest to chip away at their souls. It was a thousand moments, large and small. Words. Convictions. Actions. Apologies. Laughter. Tears. Commitment. Showing up for each other when it really counted. Not being afraid to fight, even when it got messy, even when it hurt like hell. It was everything he’d said, all the reasons he loved her, the same reasons she loved him.

Forever love. That’s what they had. It’s what they’d always had.

That was her final answer.

“Benefits?” she teased. Silently she wriggled out of her clothes, her skin erupting in goose bumps. “You waltz in here bearing gifts and romantic little speeches, and I’m supposed to drop my panties again, just like that?”

“Joke! It was a joke.” Henny started to turn his head. “Bex, I didn’t—”

“Turn around or we’re done, Kyle Henderson.”

He whipped his head back into place, and Bex slipped the jersey over her naked body, loving the feel of his numbers on her chest. She was Henny’s, now and always.

“Bex,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice, “I said I’d let you make the rules here. I mean it. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll accept whatever—”

“All.”

“—even if it means—”

“All.”

“—that we can’t… Wait. What?”

“You said all or nothing. I choose all. Turn around.”

Slowly, Henny turned to face her, his eyes wide with surprise.

Standing before him in nothing but the jersey, she said, “I messed up, too. I didn’t know how to deal with our friendship changing so quickly, and I panicked. I’m done panicking. Done running from this. From us. You know my brand of crazy, Hen. All my secrets, all my shame, my strengths, my stories, just like I know yours. And guess what? I fell for you too, jerkface. A long time ago. So if you think you can deal with me—all of me—then I say we give this thing a shot. A real one. You in?”

Henny ran his thumb over his lower lip and swallowed hard, his eyes dark with desire.

“Henny. Are you listening to me?”

“I don’t… Are you wearing panties?”

Bex rolled her eyes. “Did you even hear a word I said?”

Henny blinked. “You had me at… standing there naked in my jersey.”

“See what happens when you look at porn instead of studying? You’ve conditioned yourself to respond only to naked women.”

“No, only to you.” He reached for the jersey, tugging it up to reveal the triangle of hair between her thighs.

“See? You never developed critical listening skills.” Grinning wickedly, Bex pushed him back onto the pool table and climbed up to straddle him. His jeans were rough against her sensitive skin, the zipper warm from his body heat, radiating to her core.

Henny slid his hands up the front of her jersey, fingers tugging her aching nipples to stiff peaks. “Lucky for you I have lots of other skills.”

She was wet in an instant, reaching down between her legs for his button and zipper, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes. His hard length was hot and velvet-smooth in her hand.

This. This was right. All of it.

Bex wasn’t naive enough to think they’d never have another fight, never hit another roadblock. She and Henny still had so many things to work through on their own—her fears and insecurities about her business plans, his frustrations with the league and the mistakes he’d made on the ice, all of the pain and anguish they’d been carrying from their pasts. Those kinds of wounds didn’t repair themselves overnight, not even when you fell in love.

Bex and Henny had an uphill road ahead of them, and it wouldn’t be an easy hike.

But they wouldn’t be walking it alone.

“Now we have a problem.” Henny slid his hands down her rib cage, her hips, her thighs, squeezing her tight. “Every time I see my number, I’m gonna think about this moment. You’ve already ruined pool for me. Now I won’t be able to wear my own jersey without getting a raging hard-on. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

“So fucked up. Maybe I should help you with that.” She arched her hips, slowly sliding down over his shaft, taking him in fully. “Better?”

“This is… not… helping.” Henny closed his eyes as she rolled her hips, her body stretching to accommodate him, to learn him all over again. “Fuck. You’re making a bigger problem, Bex. Emphasis on bigger.”

“Bigger isn’t a problem for me,” she teased, her body shuddering with pleasure. They’d been apart for far too long, and now that they’d found their way back into each other’s arms, Bex intended to make up for every lost second, one delicious thrust at a time. “In fact, I’d say everything about this situation is just about—yeah, right there—perfect.”