Boldly by Elise Faber
Chapter Thirty
Oliver
“Oliver?”
“Yeah?”
His eyes were closed, Hazel was driving them home, and he was about two minutes from passing out. They’d spent the day at the practice facility. Him slogging through paperwork and Hazel in back-to-back sessions with the guys.
“I…um…have another surprise for you.”
“Does it involve me having to do anything physical?” he groaned. He wasn’t joking about being ready to pass out.
“That I’m not sure about.”
He peeled open his eyes. “Not inspiring confidence, babe.”
“You said you needed to keep working on your abs,” she teased.
He groaned.
Her lips twitched. “It’s not going to make you as tired as sled hockey did the other day.”
He reached over, squeezed her thigh. “That was exhausting but awesome, honey. Although, I’m definitely out of hockey shape,” he added when she smiled at him, “but it was also one of the most amazing things anyone has ever done for me.”
“I’m glad you’re not mad. I was…” A breath. “Worried I’d pushed when I shouldn’t have.”
“I told you I loved it.”
“I know.” She worried that bottom lip with her teeth. “But we haven’t talked about it much, especially with work being so busy for both of us, and I guess part of me was still…”
“Not mad,” he told her. “I was scared out of my mind, but luckily I had a seven-year-old who held my hand the whole time.”
Hazel giggled. “Just so you know, I’ve officially adopted Aimie and Hannah.” A grin. “And Chuck isn’t so bad, though I think I only heard him say one thing the entire time.”
“A man of few words is the only way to survive with those two.”
Another giggle.
“And I’m glad you adopted them, because it seems that I’ve volunteered to help coach Hannah’s team next season.”
“Oliver.”
Her voice sounded strangled, and he sat up, glanced over at her. “What?”
She looked to be very close to tears. “That’s”—a shake of her head—“you’re a really good man, you know that?”
His eyes stung.
He hadn’t felt good.
For a long, long time, he hadn’t felt worthy of that.
Now he knew he deserved it.
“You make it easy to be a better one,” he said and squeezed her thigh. “You’re my heart.”
She sniffed, dashed a finger beneath both eyes then covered his hand with her own. “Now that you’re trying to make me cry, I’m going to distract you because…” She turned into a nondescript parking lot, a nondescript brown building sitting squatly in the corner. “…we’re here. Surprise!”
“What?” He squinted, trying to see where they were. “Have you decided this is the place you’ll murder me?”
A snort.
A deep breath.
“No, baby.” Another breath. “This is Dr. Francisca’s practice.”
His eyes widened. He sat back in the seat.
Amanda Francisca was famous for her work with amputees. In particular, she worked with athletes who participated in the Paralympics, Iron Man competitions, Spartan Races, and CrossFit. If there was an elite athlete who needed a prothesis, they went to her.
And she’d reached out to him, months ago.
But…he hadn’t been ready.
“She says she can get you back on the ice. Not with sled hockey. Not in the NHL. But something that felt like it was.” Hazel spun in her seat and faced him. “It’ll take time, months to a year, she said. And in the meantime, you can still play sled hockey, and maybe when you’re done with her, you can coach or play in a league or just know that there isn’t anything stopping you from getting on the rink.”
His chest was so tight that he couldn’t squeeze out words.
He was absolutely going to lose it.
Because…Hazel.
“Hey,” she breathed, cupping his jaw, one thumb wiping the tears that had escaped his eyes. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to do this today. I know it’s been a long week and—”
He kissed her.
Hard and deep and long.
And when he broke away, both of their chests heaving, their breaths in rapid succession, he said, “I’m going to marry you.”
Her jaw fell open.
Hereyes filled with tears, tears that spilled over.
He wiped them away, kissed her again, and then he got out of the car.
For the record, Dr. Francisa was the shit.
