He shakes his head. “It was my own fault. My own selfish fault.” He looks at me now. “When you told me you wanted to drop everything and pursue art, I had this sick, boiling feeling erupt inside me that it would happen all over again. That my world would crumble around me, and I’d lose another thing I loved so much.” He scratches his beard as his eyes meet mine. “Little did I realize I was losing you just like I lost your mom, and I’m ashamed to say that it wasn’t until Posey showed me his undying loyalty toward you that I realized my head wasn’t on straight. He was right. I was losing the best thing to ever happen to me out of fear that . . . well, I’d lose you like I lost your mother.”
“Dad,” I say as I take his hand in mine. “I would never intentionally leave you like that. We might have had our ups and downs, but you’re my father, and I will always love you. I just . . . I wish that you would treat me more like your daughter and less like your prisoner.”
“I know. I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for my behavior. But I do need you to know that I was trying to hang on to you and ensure that you’d always be there by my side.”
“I get that, and I’m sorry if I scared you in any way. Please know, though, I want to have a relationship with you, Dad. A healthy relationship. I want to hang out. I want to have dinner where it’s just you and me, and we chat about what’s going on in our lives. I want a connection. And I hope you could maybe open your heart to that.”
“I can,” he says. “I want to.” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me into a hug. “And I’m sorry for everything I put you through. You deserve better.”
“I deserve a father who wants the best for me. I know that’s you, even though you lost sight of that for a moment.”
“I did, but I think I figured it out.” He squeezes me. Thank God. I am so thankful he’s softened his heart and actually wants what I want. Wants to love me and keep me in his life. “Now, about that boy. You’re telling me that you love somebody who might possibly love bologna more than you?”
I let out a laugh and curl in closer to my dad. “I do. And I’m willing to play second fiddle to lunch meat if it means I can be with him.”
“Well,” Dad says. “If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.”
Dad givesme one more hug, then heads toward his office while I go to the players’ parking lot, where I know Levi waits for me in his car. He texted me to let me know.
When I spot his car, I rush over to the passenger side and hop in when he sees me.
“What did he—”
He doesn’t even get a second to finish his sentence as I lean over the center console and kiss him wildly. I kiss him for loving me. For making everything right for my dad. For believing in me. And for not letting one man’s bitterness change the trajectory of who he is.
My dad’s awful words, not to mention the way he handled the situation, could have deterred anyone into writing him off, but instead, Levi chose the high road because he knew how important my dad was to me. Instead of cutting him out of my life, he went out of his way to patch things up, and that’s why I will forever and always love this man.
When I pull away, I cup his cheeks. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me. You are my rock, my strength, my everything, and I’m so beyond grateful you have chosen me.”
He studies me for a moment, confusion laced through his expression.
“How could I have chosen anyone else?” he says. “You were clearly made for me.”
I smile and stroke my thumb over his cheek. “My dad told me what you did for me, for us.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that, Levi.”
“I love you, Wylie. I’d do anything for you.” He laces our fingers together. “Please tell me that you were able to come to some sort of understanding.”
I nod. “More so. He apologized. Explained to me that my mom left him to be an artist, and well, he didn’t handle it properly, but he was scared I was going to do the same.”
“Makes sense,” Levi says.
“But either way, I told him about the job. He was a little uneasy about what I would be drawing, but he did tell me I did beautiful work. He congratulated me, then gave us his blessing. Called you a good guy.”
“Did he now?” Levi says, puffing his chest.
“Oh yes, seems like he might be a fan. Then again, not sure he’d ever show it.”
“I’ll take a secret fan as long as you remain my number one.”
“Always,” I say as I lean in again. “Forever and always, Levi.”
“Never forget it,” he says as he kisses me again, and this time, the kiss bounces all the way down to the tips of my toes.
After ditching him at a bar, never in a million years did I imagine I’d end up here—being loved and cherished by Levi Posey. I was looking for one night of fun, and he’s offering me an endless eternity of love.
Epilogue
LEVI
“Levi, are you really going to be on your phone right now?”
“I’m sorry,” I say as I set my phone down, worry etching through my chest. I blow out a heavy breath. “OC sent an article. A damning one.”
“Is it about the expansion team?” Wylie asks.
I nod as I grab a box from under the Christmas tree. “Yeah, he’s freaking out. Rumors are swirling about what might happen and since we heard there’s a possibility Rivers might come back, he’s nervous he’s going to be traded at the end of the season.”
“Well, nothing is set in stone.”
I wince. “The article was written by a reputable source. Looks like the team could be collecting some serious bad blood.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, thankfully being amazing as I hand her my favorite Christmas present I got her. Last thing I want to do is talk about the team on our first Christmas, but OC is freaking out.
When we heard of the expansion team, the San Francisco Rogue, a few years ago, we never thought much of it, but with a heavy set of investors, willing and ready to throw down cash for the toughest position players, there was some worry that started to develop. But OC recently has ramped up that worry.
“The owners are a collective who want to win. And they will do it any means necessary, meaning, they’re looking for the best of the best. The ones who are willing to do anything to win and I mean anything. Cheap shots, hell on ice type shit.”
“But that’s not OC, so why is he worried?”
“Because Rivers might come back and if he does, that makes OC a free agent and given his talent, the Rogue would be dumb not to scoop him up.”
“Oh . . .” she stares down at her present. “That would be sad, I really like OC.”
“We all do.” I drag my hand over my face. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked at that text in the middle of our Christmas.”
She smooths her hand over my bare chest and says, “It’s okay. It’s one of the reasons why I love you, because you care so much about your friends, even if it’s on a freaky close level.”
I chuckle and pull her onto my lap. “Okay, blocking that out, now open your gift.”
I kiss her neck and while she giggles, she unwraps the present I got her. She parts the jewelry box open and gasps.
“Levi, oh my God. I love it so much,” Wylie says as she stares down at the gold necklace I got her.
Bing Crosby croons in the background about a white Christmas that, unfortunately, we don’t have. Now, a rainy and cloudy Christmas, Vancouver went all in this year.
We’re spending the morning here, just her and me, in front of our Christmas tree that we decorated together, opening presents and eating the cookies we made last night while we ate bologna sandwiches with potato chips between the slices. It was Wylie’s personal touch, which I had never done before, but after the subtle combination of the soft and crunchy, I know I’ll never go back.
Later this afternoon, we’re heading over to her dad’s, where we plan on exchanging gifts and having dinner. We’ll also be mingling with Giselle, who’ll be stopping by as well.
Yeah, Giselle, the flight attendant.
Apparently, Coach Wood was flirting with her. Took him a bit, but he finally got up the nerve to ask her out, and according to Wylie, sparks flew after the first date. And I have to admit, the scary vein in Coach Wood’s head that usually has its own heartbeat . . . has significantly calmed down since Giselle entered into the mix. OC even told me that he saw her going into Coach Wood’s hotel room one night. When I told Wylie, she gave her dad a round of applause and said he needed to get some ass.
God, I love her so much.
“I love having your initials on me,” she says as she holds it out to me and turns around. “Put it on for me?”
I slip it around her neck and clasp the necklace together. She then turns toward me and asks, “How does it look?”
“Perfect,” I say.
Wylie has been hard at work, drawing every day and coming up with new and exciting sketches for Patty, who gobbles them up . . . as are her patrons. I can’t even remember the number they’ve sold, but Patty and Deena were blown away. And now they’re coming up with different packages and incentives that could be sold with the drawings. They thought the more exclusive they can be with certain packages, the higher the bidding.
Frankly, I’m all for this business model. Seeing women kill it as entrepreneurs is always great to see. She also got a call back from Rylee Ryan about her drawings for her book, but given the workload Wylie has taken on for Patty, she had to turn down the opportunity. Rylee told her to keep her in mind if her workload ever lightens up.
From the way things have been going, we don’t think it’s going to lighten up anytime soon.
“My turn,” Wylie says as she reaches under the tree and hands me a gift. “I worked very hard on this one.”
She takes a seat on my lap again, and I kiss her shoulder before I open the present. It’s a flat box. I pull off the top, push back some tissue paper, and reveal a black-bound book.
“Did you finally write up the Vermont book in Arial?”
She chuckles and shakes her head. Although, she did buy me a book on Maine that I’m frothing at the mouth to dive into. Can’t wait to see all that lobster. Plus, when I was flipping through it, there was a section about this little town called Port Snow and how they have tons of Lovemark movies being made there. Tell me more about that!
I lift the book out of the box and flip open the cover, only to have my breath escape my lungs. It’s Wylie . . . in nothing but an Agitators jersey, cut up the middle and showing off a dangerous amount of cleavage.
“What . . . the . . . fuck,” I say as my dick starts to go hard. “Baby, what is this?”
“Keep flipping through.”
I go to the next page, and it’s a picture of Wylie, lying on the ground, her fingers barely covering her nipples as she looks up at the camera.
“Holy shit, babe.”
I flip through, page after page, getting harder and harder as we go on until the last two pages, where she’s leaning against a bed, a vibrator in hand with a look of pure ecstasy across her face as she masturbates.
“Please, baby, please tell me a woman took these.”
She laughs as I look at the last picture. It’s of her, with her hands propped behind her, her chest up, and her tits pointed toward the ceiling.
Fuck . . . she’s so hot.
“Deena and Patty took them for me while I was down there a few weeks ago.”
“Jesus,” I murmur as I flip through them again. “Babe, this is . . . this is the best gift you could have given me.”
“Better than the bologna in the fridge?”
“Way better,” I say.
“Well, then, let me give you the accompanying present that goes with this.” She gets off my lap, turns around, and pushes me onto my back. She tugs on my Christmas pajama pants and releases my hard cock from its confines. She wets her lips and leans down, running her tongue along my tattoo.
I groan as she circles her tongue around the tip.
“I want you looking at the pictures while I suck your cock, so when you go on away trips and take this book with you, you have a memory of this moment.”
“Fuck, I love you,” I say as I rub my thumb over her cheek.
“I love you too,” she says right before she sucks me all the way to the back of her throat.
Christ.
And here I thought I’d be at war with this girl forever, a mad battle of erotic torture. Instead, I won the battle. I won the best prize of all time.
I get to call Wylie Wood mine and share the rest of my life with this precious gift.
Nothing beats that.