Page 129 of The Goalie in Room 1

His head snapped up.

There it was.

The thing I’d nearly said a dozen times. The truth I’d swallowed every time Cash looked at me like he was waiting for something I’d been too afraid to give him.

I couldn’t take it back.

Didn’t want to.

Cash stared at me. “You’re in love with me.”

“Yes.”

“You waited until I was standing in your bedroom holding half my closet to mention that?”

“I didn’t plan this well.”

“No shit.”

A laugh escaped me, but Cash didn’t join in. His eyes had gone bright.

“What does this mean?” he asked.

The question had nothing to do with bedrooms.

“It means I want you here tonight. Tomorrow. After you finish rehabilitation. After you know what happens with hockey. After you don’t need anything from me.”

His face tightened at the last part.

I stepped closer but stopped before touching him.

“It means your place here isn’t tied to your knee,” I said. “You don’t have to leave because you can climb the stairs or drive yourself somewhere or earn your own money. If you ever walk out of this house, I want it to be because you chose somewhere else. Not because you decided I was getting ready to ask you to go.”

Cash dragged a hand over his mouth.

“I don’t want somewhere else.”

The words barely reached me.

“What do you want?”

His gaze lifted to mine. “You.”

I held out my hand.

Cash closed his eyes and took my hand.

I pulled him against me, and his arms locked around my waist. He buried his face against my chest. Last night had been hunger and months of frustration finally breaking loose. This was different. Quiet. Terrifying in ways stripping naked had never been.

“I love you too,” he muttered against my skin.

I tightened my arms around him. “Good.”

“Good?”

“It would be awkward sharing a bedroom if you didn’t love me.”

His teeth sank into my pec.