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“I’m admiring the view.”

“The view is behind me,” she says, gesturing toward the Olympic Mountains silhouetted against the fire in the sky.

“No,” I say, setting my glass down on the small table. “It really isn’t.”

The humor fades from her face, replaced by that soft, vulnerable expression she only shows me. It’s the look that turns my heart to fucking mush.

I stand up, my knees suddenly a little weak. I’ve faced down the meanest enforcers in the league without blinking, but the weight of the small velvet box in my pocket is making my breath hitch. This is the play. The one that defines the rest of my life.

“Mia,” I start, my voice lower, rougher. I reach out and take her hand, pulling her toward me. Her skin is cool from the evening air, but she’s radiating that heat that always draws me in.

“What’s up? You’re being very serious,” she says, her breath hitching. She’s reading me. She’s always been too good at reading me.

“I’ve been counting the seconds until I could do this.” I shake my head, looking down at our joined hands.

I sink down onto one knee, the wooden deck hard beneath me. The boat sways gently, a slow, rhythmic rocking that feels like the world is holding its breath. Mia’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes widening as the first tear tracks through her makeup.

“I’ve been in love with you since the first moment I saw you,” I tell her, and I don’t care how much of a cliché it sounds like, because it’s the goddamn truth. “I tried to fight it. I tried to respect the boundaries you drew in the sand.”

I pull the box from my pocket and flip it open. “Oh my.” She mutters staring at the ring as the diamond catches the slipping sunlight, throwing shards of white and blue across her leather jacket. It’s a one-carat stone set in an antique platinum setting, beautiful and understated, just like she described at Harper and Jaxson’s engagement party.

“I can't imagine my life without you. I don't want to imagine it. I want the early shifts and the late games. I want the quiet mornings in the penthouse and the chaos of whatever comes next. I want to be the man you come home to, every single night.”

Her shoulders are shaking now, the tears falling freely. She looks beautiful and wrecked and perfect all at once. My chest feels tight, like I’m waiting for the buzzer in a tied game, the seconds ticking down to nothing.

“Marry me,” I say, and it’s not a command, it’s a plea. It’s everything I have left to give.

“Yes,” she sobs, the word coming out on a broken gasp. “Yes, Mick. God, yes.”

I let out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding since the first moment we met. I stand up, my hands trembling just enough for her to notice, and I take her left hand in mine. The world is turning to dark blue around us, the stars just starting to prick through the haze, but all I see is her.

The weight of the platinum band settles against her skin, and it feels like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place. For a moment, we just stand there, suspended in the middle of the Sound. I don't let go of her hand. I can't. I need to feel the physical proof that this is real, that I haven't just hallucinated the greatest victory of my life. I pull her flush against me, my arms wrapping around her waist, and she buries her face in the crook of my neck. Her tears are warm against my skin, soaking into my shirt, but they don't feel like sadness. They feel like relief.

"I was so scared," she whispers into my collarbone, her voice muffled but clear in the stillness. "I was so scared that I’d wake up one day and realize this was all a dream."

I tighten my grip, my chin resting on the top of her head. I can smell the sea air and her shampoo--that scent that has haunted my dreams for months. "It has been a dream." I pull her close and place a soft kiss on her lips. “A dream come true.”

She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes red-rimmed but shining with a light that makes the sunset look dim. She reaches up, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. I can see the truth shining in her bright blue eyes. She's all in. “Yes, it is,” she breathes, a small, watery smile breaking through.

I kiss her then, and it's different from every other kiss we've shared. There's no desperation, no frantic need to prove a point or claim a space. It's a promise. It's slow and deep, tasting of salt and champagne and the future. When I pull away, I'm breathless, my heart hammering a rhythm I don't think will ever slow down as long as she's in my arms. I lead her back to the small table, keeping one arm firmly around her shoulders. I'm not letting her more than six inches away from me for the rest of the night. Hell, for the rest of my life.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MIA

I never thought I’d be the girl who elopes, but here we are. We didn't even wait two weeks. The engagement ring had barely been on my finger for seventy-two hours before we decided that a traditional wedding wasn’t for us.

Since Mick McLinden doesn't do anything halfway, and apparently, that includes the transition from fiancé to husband, we booked a trip to Las Vegas for my next three-day weekend off. We packed two small bags, told Mia and Harper to keep their phones on, and caught the red-eye to Nevada.

The desert heat hits me like a physical weight the moment we step out of the airport. It's dry, oppressive, and absolutely perfect. Mick grips my hand, his palm rough and steady, as we navigate the neon chaos of the Strip.

"You sure you don’t want a big fancy wedding?" he asks, checking the address on his phone. He’s wearing a sharp charcoal suit that makes him look like a high-stakes gambler instead of a professional hockey player. "We can still the traditional route if you want."

I pull him to a stop, adjusting his silk tie. My own dress is a simple white slip, silk and lace that feels like nothing against my skin. "I want to marry you today." I stand on my tippy-toes and place a kiss on his lips. “Let’s go get married.”

He grins, that mischievous flash in his eyes that always makes my heart do a frantic little stutter. "Anything for you, trouble."

The Happily Ever After Chapel is everything the brochures promised. It’s a small, stucco building tucked between a pawn shop and a 24-hour liquor store. The sign out front features a neon dove flying through a diamond ring. The air inside smells of fresh carnations and industrial-strength floor wax.