Page 270 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

"I love you too."

The sentence settles between us with quiet certainty. No fear. No uncertainty. Just truth.

Annette smiles.

"So..."

"So?"

"Are we finally finished pretending this is just rehabilitation?"

I laugh. "I think that ship sailed somewhere around the peony conversation."

"I was wondering."

"So was I."

She shakes her head.

"We're hopeless."

"No." I gently brush a tear from her cheek. "I think we're finally honest."

***

Her eyes search mine for another long moment before she slowly rises onto her toes.

When her lips meet mine, the world seems to grow wonderfully quiet.

There is no desperation.

No frantic attempt to make up for lost time.

Only the quiet certainty of two hearts finally arriving exactly where they're meant to be.

The kiss is gentle.

Unhurried.

Filled with every smile we've shared, every stubborn argument, every encouraging word whispered through long rehabilitation sessions. It carries the memory of hospital hallways, lakeside walks, and the afternoon she patiently buttoned my shirt when I couldn't manage it myself.

It carries all of us.

When we finally part, neither of us moves very far.

Her forehead rests lightly against mine, and I feel her smiling before I see it.

"I've been waiting for that," she whispers.

"So have I."

Our eyes meet again.

No more uncertainty.

No more wondering.

Just us.