Tears filled my eyes, and I cursed the hormones robbing my body of control. “That means a lot. Thank you, Father. I have to go.”

“Can we have lunch when I get back in town?” He asked before I could hang up.

“Sure.” I ended the call before I turned into a sobbing mess. I was still angry with him, but he was my father. I didn’t want to hate him forever.

“Paige?” Kelsey popped into the kitchen, and I jolted against the counter at her presence.

“Yes?”

“I found out who supplied the funds.”

I raised my eyebrows at her. “And?”

A smile played at the corner of her lips. “It was Rory.”

My mouth dropped. No way. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “One hundred percent.”

I stared at her without really seeing her. Funding my site was no small bill—it was in the millions. Sure, I knew Rory had more than that, but this? Why would he do this?

You know why.

That damned voice that was so Team Rory was back and whispering hope to my heart.

“Thank you, Kelsey,” I finally muttered, glancing at the cell still in my hand.

Rory loved me. He actually loved me. And Jeannine had been right all along. About my need of the list, about my need of Rory, and about his need to force me away in some twisted sense of protecting me. That was the only explanation.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, pushing his number on my phone. “I’ve got to make a call.”

She clapped her hands together before rushing off.

His number went straight to voicemail each time I tried to call. I glanced at the date and smacked my forehead. It was game four of the Stanley Cup Finals. The Sharks were at Ontario, which meant they were all the way in Ottawa, Canada.

I dialed another number. “Bailey!” I said once she answered. “What hotel are you, Gage and Rory staying at in Ottawa?”

“Four Seasons.” She answered immediately. “Why?”

Giddiness bubbled up in my throat before being shot down. “Wait. Can I fly in the first trimester?”

“Yes. You totally can,” she said, my expert mom of a friend. “But you have to take precautions. Drink tons of water, walk around the cabin as often as you can…”

“Okay,” I said after she continued to quote statistics and risks. “Thank you!”

“Of course! Get here, girl!” She cheered as I hung up.

I rushed around the house, packing in a flurry of movements after I’d called to reserve the company plane. I was still a Turner after all.

An hour later I was on the tarmac, my hand protectively over my stomach as I awaited takeoff. Rory couldn’t answer his phone right now. Fine. I’d come to him, but I was sure he’d known that. Hadn’t I always?

After seven hours, we’d landed with just enough time for me to call a cab, make it to the rink, and pay a guard an insane amount of money to let me watch the last of the game. The Sharks won in a shutout and Rory was glorious to behold. He skated faster, hit harder than I’d ever seen him. He was on fire.

They were tied at two games each, which meant Game Five would be in Seattle. Home.

I couldn’t wait another second before seeing him.

I pounded on the locker room door after they’d fled the ice. Screaming his name like a madwoman.

It only took a second for him to swing it open, rushing out of it without a shirt on and covered in fresh game sweat.

The breath caught in my throat as I locked eyes with his crystal blue gaze. I smiled at him, unable to speak, unable to move. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he took two agonizingly slow steps toward me before he sank to his knees. He timidly gripped my hips, and I sighed from his touch. Planting a kiss on my stomach, I gasped.

“You know?”

He stood up, towering over me as he cupped my cheek. “I know.”

“And?” I asked, fear clogging my veins with ice.

“And I love you, Red.” He pressed his slick forehead against mine. “I’ve never loved anyone else. And I’m sorry for—”

I cut him off with a kiss, unable to take a second longer where his lips weren’t on mine. He gently lifted me to his level, stroking my mouth with his tongue like it was the last time he ever would. Pulling back, I gasped for the breath he stole from me, and he quickly set me down, his eyes darting over every inch of my body.

“Did I hurt you?” He touched my stomach, and I laughed.

“No. Rory, we’re fine.” I smiled.

He snapped his eyes up to me. “Are we?”

I bit my bottom lip, tears filling my eyes as I looked at the man of my dreams. I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “We are.”

He sighed and kissed me quickly. “I should shower,” he said but made no motion to leave.

“And get dressed,” I teased, glancing down at his Bauer hockey pants.

“I don’t want to leave you again.” He pushed some hair away from my face.

“You won’t.” I shook my head. “I won’t let you.”

His lips crushed mine before he pulled back. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I said. “Now go. Shower. I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You know where I’m staying?” he smirked. “You know, a woman once told me that stalking is only sexy in the movies.”

I laughed, pressing up on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Right. And lists are meant for groceries.” I winked at him before turning on my heels and walking toward the exit.

Epilogue

Rory

The crowd roared as we left the ice, the spotlights spinning in a chaotic pattern, the music’s beat pulsing with the blood in my veins. The pressure was on this season, and we’d just won our opening game. As defending Stanley Cup champions, we had everything to lose.

But I had everything to gain.

Like the eight-point-five million dollar a year contract I’d just signed this summer with the Sharks that guaranteed to keep me in Seattle for the next five years, and made me the ninth highest paid player in all of the NHL.

I sped through my locker room routine, while I joked with the guys and tormented the newest rookies, whose eyes were as big as saucers. No more goofing off, no more stalling before heading out to the bar. Game was over, and I had better things to do than hang around the locker room.