Six years later...

Kaleb

Melody straddles my waist, her lips exploring my neck while she tugs the hair at the nape of my neck. Tilting my head back, provide more access for her mouth. My hands are gripping her waist while she continues to tease me.

A groan builds at the back of my throat, and I try to focus on anything but the sensations my body feels. The creamy white colour of the walls. The forgotten glass of water on the nightstand. My disastrous suitcase and the clothes spilling from it, covering the grey hardwood floor.

Mel shifts her hips.

I clench my teeth, holding back a groan.

Fuck.

Aside from my cotton boxer briefs, there's nothing acting as a barrier between us. Her centre is pressed against my erection, and I can feel her wetness seeping through. She's soaked and ready for me, and I want nothing more than to push her away, bend her over the bed, and fuck her into oblivion.

I arch my hips, wanting more friction. More sensation.

A sharp gasp escapes her mouth, and she pulls back.

Melody looks like a goddess. Early morning rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds illuminate her white-blonde hair. Her cheeks are flushed and the cobalt-blue robe she's wearing hangs around her shoulders. The front isn't tied up, and my eyes trail down her slender body.

Smiling, she leans over and kisses me. Her hands slide up my arms until she's gripping my wrists, which she pins against the headboard the moment her lips contact mine.

I part my lips, welcoming the tender caress of her tongue. The taste of her cinnamon toothpaste. She's captured me in a web of emotions. The contact between my brain and body has been severed. All I can feel is blissful numbness. The effects of addiction. 

As Mel devours my mouth, her hands fall to my face, which she cups. My stubble scratches against her palms, and a fervent moan escapes her swollen lips.

It drives me over the edge, past the face of the cliff, and into the fucking ocean.

Flipping us over, I bury my face against Mel's neck, inhaling her beachy scent. She smells like coconut and sunshine and fresh linen blowing in the wind.  After a moment, I stand up and remove my boxers. Then I'm overtop of her again. 

 Using my knee, I nudge her legs apart, pressing my erection against her. The heat between her legs makes me grit my teeth. I'm riled up. As much as I love foreplay, I'll lose control soon.

"Kal," she moans. "Please."

My fucking heart is on fire.

I continue to caress her neck, kissing and nipping. Grazing my teeth against her pulse. I do all this while trying to grab a condom from the nightstand. My hand hits several objects, including the glass of water. 

The forgotten glass of water falls, shattering against the hardwood. It echoes through the bedroom. Neither of us flinches. When my hand comes in contact with the foil packaging of the condom, we're oblivious to our surroundings.

She grabs the package from me, opening the condom with her teeth. I lean back on my heels while she rolls the condom on. My dick twitches beneath her touch. A telltale sign this won't take long.

I position myself over Mel, my hands pressed against the mattress on either side of her head. Her eyes are glazed over with lust and longing. Her chest rises and falls at a rapid pace. I'm surprised I can't hear her heartbeat.

My gaze travels up her body. From her toned thighs to the apex of them. Up to her hips and the tattoo on her ribcage. In cursive writing, Hope isn't the sickness. It's the cure. is written across the left side. It's a quote from one of her favourite books. She's an avid reader. 

Adjacent to the quote are the twin scars from her mastectomy.

The sight makes my heart clench. She's absolutely gorgeous and brave and strong, and I'm so fucking in love with her, I can't think straight. 

Using one hand, I rub my thumb along her scars, tracing the area where her breasts used to be. She inhales deeply, and her skin becomes patterned with goosebumps. Licking my lips, I direct my gaze back to her chest. I dip my head down and kiss the sensitive scars. Graze my teeth against them.

Her grip tightens on my shoulders, nails digging into my skin. She arches her hips, and the head of my erection comes in contact with her wetness.

The keen feeling of her nails adds to the sexual adrenaline coursing through my blood. I feel drunk. Drunk on her beachy scent and the softness of her skin. On her breathy moans and groans. The way she says my name.

The way she pleads for me.

Still focusing on her scars, I ask, "What do you want this morning?"

My voice is rough, heady with passion and sexual hormones.

"Hard and fast," she begs.

She doesn't need to ask twice. In one firm thrust, I sink to the hilt. The moan finally escapes from my lips, magnifying a similar moan from Mel's mouth.

Heat fills my blood and sweat breaks across my hairline as I continue to move my hips. As she continues to meet every rough thrust. The headboard bangs against the wall. Moans and heavy breathing fill the room, along with the creaking of the mattress springs.

She wraps her legs around my waist, and the new angle nearly makes me come. I drive my hips harder and faster while our mouths connect. The kiss is a hot mess. Teeth clack against each other. Melody bites my lip. My nose hits hers. We're out of sync in the kissing department, but our bodies know what they want. They're perfectly in sync. Every thrust is perfect. Hard and deep, and Mel's loving every second of it. 

When I feel too close to the edge, I bring my hand between us. Melody's body jerks upon contact, and her moan echoes through the room.

"Kal."

"Fuck, Mel," I grit out. My hips jerk forward again. "I'm so close."

"Me, too."

After several more thrusts, I come. Bliss shocks me from my toes to my head, and as much as I want to collapse atop her, she needs to come to. Using my fingers, I continue to rub her in small, hard circles. Seconds later, Mel comes. Beneath me, her body tenses and her back arches. She moans and squeezes her eyes shut. Her arms wrap around my torso, pulling me downward. I collapse, soaking up the heat of her body.

We stay like this for several minutes. Until our breathing has settled.

Drunk in the afterglow, I roll out of bed and discard the used condom. When I return to the bed, Mel is sprawled out beneath the covers. Her hair fans out behind her in messy waves, and her cheeks are pink. Her lips are swollen. I watch her chest rise and fall while slipping beneath the covers. When I'm settled in the swatch of pillows, I pull Mel against my chest. She rests her head below my chin.

I take a deep breath, intoxicated by the smell of her perfume and sex.

"I'll miss you," Melody murmurs. Her calloused fingers trace my abs.

I press a kiss to her forehead, my thumb caressing her scars again. Moments like these are where I get lost in thought. Soon after Mel and I met, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Stage IIB. The tumour was larger than two centimetres, and the doctor recommended a mastectomy and radiation treatment. Despite being at such an early stage, Mel took the opportunity. She also insisted both breasts be removed as a precaution. 

I'll never stop appreciating science. This blessing of having access to science that saved her life. I'll never stop thanking the doctors and nurses who looked after her. The people who continue to study cancer and other ailments to find cures and better, more effective treatments. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that science will never let you down.

My arms tighten around her. Those months were the worst of my life. Not knowing whether Mel would recover. The thought of losing her nearly drove me mad, despite us not being together for a very long time. But can you blame me? The moment I met Mel, I knew she was the one. 

Ever since the ordeal with hospital trips, surgeries, and radiation treatments, time is something I haven't taken for granted. Mel and I... we do everything together. Being away on road trips for hockey makes me homesick. But I can handle them.

Being traded to the Vancouver Canucks?

Now that's a different story.

Tonight, I'm leaving for Vancouver. And, for a month, Melody won't be with me. She'll be packing up her belongings, then driving across Canada to the West Coast. By then, the house we bought will be move-in ready. Her staying back was the logical decision. She needs to transfer papers from the hospital she works at, time to say goodbye to her family, et cetera. This is a big move for her, and while I feel awful, Melody has assured me she's okay. She knew what she was signing up for when she agreed to date. To move in together. 

We're in this together. Forever. 

"I'll miss you, too," I whisper.

Although being traded is out of my control, I still feel guilty for uprooting Mel's life. She's lived in Laval, a city about forty minutes outside of Montréal, since she was born. Her life, her family and friends, her career—it's all here.

My phone goes off before Mel can say anything. Rolling over, I grab it and check my text messages. There's an unread message from Shea Smith. I tap the message and read it.

"Let me guess," Mel says. "Shea?"

I run a hand through my hair, wiping away any lingering sweat. "Yeah. He's double-checking when my flight arrives." I fire off a quick text, then set my phone down.

Just as I'm turning around, Mel smacks my bare ass. I stare at her, my mouth slack at the sharp sting that's radiating through it. She flashes me a wicked grin, then kicks the covers off. When she's in an upright position, she ties her silk robe up, cinching it tight around her waist. "Speaking of flights, we need to get you packed."

Reaching for Mel, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me. She squeals and squirms, trying to break free from my embrace.

Too bad I'm a hockey player.

My arm muscles are too strong for her.

I bury my face in her neck. "What if I don't want to leave?"

She tilts her head back and looks up at me. "You want to quit your dream job?"

Expelling a deep sigh, I shake my head. "No."

Mel smiles and pats my shoulder, squirming out of my suddenly slack embrace. "Then let's get moving. We'll go out for dinner before you leave."

I watch as Melody saunters into our walk-in closet. The dark obscures her for several seconds, and then she flicks the light on. She tips her chin up, gazing at the shelves above while running her fingers along the fabric of my suit jackets.

I flop against the pillows, rubbing my jaw.

As excited as I am to be reuniting with Shea, my heart is already aching for Mel.

* * *

Eleven hours later, I arrive in Vancouver, British Columbia.

On the tarmac, the air smells of gasoline and salty sea air. A damp breeze whips through my hair as I trudge to the entryway, my sweater wrapped tight around my body. Fog hangs low around the mountains, promising rain later in the evening. While the air is warm, the breeze makes me shiver.

For the many times I've been to Vancouver, this time feels different.

I'm moving here. Vancouver is my new home. I have a new fanbase. A new jersey and new teammates. Streets and shops to memorize. An empty bed to occupy for a month.

Once inside the airport, I head down the aisle, shaking the foggy chill from my body. Ahead, I see signs of the baggage claim area. It's written in French and English, and my heart pinches. After living in Laval for a few years, I can interpret French pretty well. It's easier to read than speak, but I still understand it. I hope I don't lose that ability.

Pushing through the doors, I'm greeted by a quiet foyer. It's late, so there aren't too many people. Aside from the couple standing by the luggage carousel. 

"Kaleb Fucking Jones!" Shea shouts.

A few heads turn in our direction. It makes me cringe. Damn it. I didn't want an audience. But the moment I meet Shea's gaze, I forget about all that shit. We're playing hockey together again! It'll be just like high school was.

And the inner child in me is so damn excited.

Dropping my bag, I meet him halfway.

He pulls me into a hard embrace, clapping me on the back. I do the same to him. We spin around in a couple of circles, stumbling to the side like a pair of drunken fools.

"Fuck!" Shea curses when we stop. "I've missed you, man."

"I've missed you, too," I laugh.

The giddy feeling in my gut won't go away. As much as I miss Mel, the reality is I'm playing hockey with my best friend again. This is better than Christmas. Almost better than the sex session Mel and I had earlier this morning. Although Shea and I spend summers together training for the season, it'll be nice to see him daily.

Behind him, I see Brenna. She stoops down to pick up my carry-on duffel bag and slings it over her shoulder. When she looks up, she flashes me a welcoming smile.

Brenna's another one of my best friends, so I can't prevent myself from shoving Shea away and pulling Brenna into a hug. The bag falls to the floor again. I pick her up and spin her around while she laughs.

When I set her down, I step back, my hands still on her shoulders. "Brenna Harrison. It's good to see you again."

She holds up her left hand. Her gigantic ring sparkles under the lighting. "It's Smith now, KJ."

I tap the diamond. "Yeah, I see that. That's a huge rock."

Brenna rolls her eyes and drops her hand back to her side. "The ring isn't big. Quit embellishing it."

Glancing over my shoulder, I shoot a cocky smirk at Shea. "Hear that? Your wife isn't a fan of your choice in rings. Hope you remedy that this Valentine's Day." I look at Brenna again, winking. "Don't worry, Harrison. I'll make sure I'm with him. We'll get you a better ring."

Shea rolls his eyes. I can hear it in the sigh he expels.

Brenna looks at her ring, frowning. "I love my ring. Shea doesn't need to buy me a bigger one. Besides, who wants jewellery for Valentine's Day? I want a dark room with candles."

I wrinkle my nose, despite what happened between Mel and me earlier. "Ew. Too much information."

She slings her arm around my shoulders. "Welcome to Vancouver, Kaleb Jones. What's your new address, by the way? I'll get it set up on Google Maps."

It's my turn to frown. "You've lived here since you were eighteen. Why do you need a map?"

After cocking a sassy eyebrow, she says, "Maps are a requirement because I have never lived in the downtown area. It's congested and intense, and unappealing."

Although I want to poke fun at her, she's made a good point. Brenna and Shea prefer sticking to the outskirts of the city or in North Van entirely.

A smug expression appears on her face. "What? No banter?"

I shrug. "You've made a good point."

She eyes me carefully before nodding. "Okay, well, I'll grab the car. Meet you in the waiting zone."

Brenna doesn't look back, and just as I'm about to turn back to Shea, his arm wraps around my shoulders. He gives my stomach an aggressive rub. I stumble a little, but regain my balance quickly.

"This is it, KJ. Remember when we used to discuss this in high school? You and me playing in the NHL together? It's a fucking dream come true. Fuck, I love this."

Shea swears a lot when he's amped up. I can't blame him. Keeping my gaze locked on the still luggage carousel, I try to keep my emotions in check. I'm sure we'll see this exchange on TikTok later, but I don't give a shit. Shea's right. This is nostalgic and emotional.

Smiling, I pull him in for another hug. This one is tighter, filled with combustible emotions. Combustible in the sense I may sob. Years ago, Shea and I would discuss our dreams regarding the NHL. Which team we wanted to play for. Which line we'd be on. We'd infer how many goals and assists we'd get during a season. How we'd celly. The party we'd throw if we won the Stanley Cup.

And I gotta say, I'm pretty fucking excited.

"We did it, Smith. We did it."