Mile High (Windy City Series Book 1)

A first-round sweep helped clear my head a bit, but the thought of Chicago not extending my contract has been lingering in the back of my mind since that night in Florida. I’d been careless with my private relationship, relying on the fact we hadn’t been caught yet and hoping the consequences wouldn’t be as bad as we had imagined if we were.

But the reality is starting to hit, knowing there’s going to be a breaking point somewhere in the near future. Either I’m not going to be playing for the Raptors after this season, or Stevie won’t be working for them.

There’s no other way around it, and right now, I’m not ready to face those decisions. The only reason I’ve enjoyed the road this year is because she was with me.

So, we’ve stayed quiet, avoiding each other on the plane and only interacting when we’re in the security of my penthouse. Stevie has still been coming to my home games, but we’ve taken extra precautions while at the arena—she sits in only secluded, private areas, not waiting around after the game and just meeting up at home.

But the thing that’s had me most concerned is how quiet Rich has been. I haven’t heard from him since the night he broke the news that Chicago hadn’t reached out about a new contract yet. Rich is never silent. He’s always scheming, working on something that will make us both a shit-ton of money, but lately, it’s been crickets from him.

After a season full of my friends encouraging me that Chicago would re-sign me regardless of all the added bullshit I bring to the table, I started to believe it. And that was a mistake.

It’s hard to focus on the most important weeks of my career, sitting a series and a half away from the Stanley Cup Finals, when my future is up in the air. It’s hard to concentrate on the here and now when I don’t know where I’ll land after it’s all over.

But just because Chicago hasn’t offered a new contract yet, doesn’t mean it’s off the table, so for the next few weeks, while we continue our path to the finals, I’m going to focus on what I can bring to the organization, hockey-wise. And that’s one of the best defensemen in the league and the best on a team that’s only nine wins away from winning it all.

As soon as I open the front door of my penthouse, Rosie rushes in, searching for my girlfriend. My dog is as chill as they get, so on days I have a pre-game morning skate, like today, I bring her to the rink with me and let her bop around the locker room, getting love from all the guys.

Stevie whines about losing her cuddle buddy that early in the morning, and I’m still not sure if she’s referring to my dog or me, but for my ego’s sake, I like to assume she means me.

I follow Rosie to my bedroom, expecting to find chestnut curls sprawled across my pillowcase, waiting for me to come back and join, but my bed is empty, with no pretty flight attendant in sight.

Through the silence, a soft whimper echoes from the bathroom connected to my room, so I follow the sound.

The bathroom is dim, only a slight glow coming from the lighted mirror where I find my girlfriend standing almost entirely naked in front of it. She has a pair of black leather pants pulled up past her thighs, but nothing else hides her bare body. When Stevie finally looks up, and I catch her reflection in the mirror, that’s when I notice the sadness covering her features.

Her blue-green eyes are rimmed in red, her freckled cheeks are a flushed shade of deep rose, and her full bottom lip slightly trembles as she looks at me.

“Vee, what’s going on?” I take two slow strides to stand behind her, meeting her in front of the mirror.

She quickly wipes her eyes. “I didn’t know you’d be home so soon.”

She takes a deep breath, attempting to compose herself before she turns around and tries to slip past me. But I catch her before she can get away, pulling her into me as she buries her head into my chest.

Running a soothing hand up and down her back, I ask again, “What’s going on?”

“I’m just having a rough morning,” she mumbles into my shirt.

“What happened?”

Her back rises in my hold, taking a deep inhale. “I wanted to dress up for your game tonight, but my clothes aren’t fitting.” A strangled breath shakes her body. “One of your teammates’ girlfriends had shirts made for tonight, and Logan snuck me the one with your number on it. I was going to hide it under a jacket or something else, but it doesn’t fit.”

Burying a hand into her curls, I hold her to me, allowing her to feel what she needs to feel.

“I’m just having a bad day, is all.”

“That’s okay, Vee. You’re allowed to have bad days.”

For a few moments, she hides in my chest before composing herself and pulling away. She offers me a half-smile as she wipes her face. “I’ll be all right.”

Studying her for a beat, it’s evident that she’s not all right in the slightest. The way Stevie feels about her body is different every day, and that’s perfectly fine, as long as she’s overall on the path to accepting herself, which she is. The bad days will ebb and flow.

My hands find the waistband of the pants that won’t close, fingers digging in and pulling them down her legs. As she steps out of them, I toss them aside before turning on all the lights in the bathroom, brightening up the space.

“Come here.” I usher her to stand in front of the full-length mirror, completely naked. Staying behind her, I allow her body to take up the frame with my hands holding her upper arms.

“Zee.” She looks away from her reflection, a quiet whimper leaving her lips.

“Vee, look at yourself, please,” I urge as gently as possible.

Her sad eyes wander back to the mirror as a slight frown ghosts her lips.

“Tell me what you like.”

“Nothing.”

“Stevie…”

She takes a sharp breath before studying herself in the reflection. “I like my hair.”

Brushing her curls out of the way, I trail a line of kisses across her bare shoulder. “I love your hair. What else?”

Examining herself in the mirror, she finally blurts out, “I like my eyes.”

Crossing both arms around the front of her shoulders, I tell her, “I love your eyes.”

She stays silent, looking at herself in the mirror.

“What else?” I coax.

Glancing at herself up and down, she shakes her head to tell me nothing.

That breaks my heart, but I know it’s not the truth. Stevie is just having a bad day, but that’s okay because I have an endless list of what I love about her body.

“Okay.” I kiss the side of her head. “Then look in the mirror and tell me what you don’t like.”

Brows furrowed, she finds my gaze in the reflection, confusion covering her features.

“If you have such a short list of the things you like, then tell me what you don’t like.”

I watch as Stevie internally battles with herself, not wanting to say any of it out loud.

Her stare wanders the length of the mirror, and her tone is soft, her volume almost inaudible as she finally whispers, “I don’t like my thighs.”

My palms cover her bare legs as goosebumps decorate her light brown skin. “I love your thighs.” I squeeze them in my hands. “I especially like when they’re warming my cheeks as I’m going down on you.” That pulls a small laugh from my typically wild girl. “But my favorite is when you’re sitting in my lap, facing me, and your thighs straddle my legs. I like getting to see you.”

Stevie’s head cocks to the side, her brows pinching together.

“What else don’t you like?”

Blue-green eyes wander her reflection. “I don’t like my stomach. I wish it were flatter.”

“I love your stomach.” Both hands graze over it. “I love that it’s soft and that I have something to hold when we’re cuddling. Or fucking.”

She tries to hold back her slight smile. “I don’t like my boobs.”

“Stop.” I jolt back, slightly offended. “That can’t be true. Those are two of my favorite things.”

Finally, a small laugh escapes her. “I don’t like how they’re two different sizes.”

“Vee, that’s because you’re human. And I don’t pick favorites between them.”

Her gaze continues to work the length of the mirror. “I don’t like my stretch marks.”

I find the ones she’s staring at. “These?” I ask as my fingertips trace the jagged lines on her hips. “You don’t like that your body can adapt? Because I think that’s pretty fucking cool.”

“Well”—she looks down, admiring—“I like them a whole lot more when you’re touching them.”

Sharing a soft laugh, I hold her as we look at each other in the mirror.

“You don’t have to love your body every single day. That’s unrealistic to expect, but I’ll be here loving it for the days you can’t.”

“It’s just hard right now during playoffs, with all your teammates’ wives and girlfriends matching every game. They’re all perfect, and I look nothing like them.”

“What makes them perfect? Because of their clothing size? That doesn’t make someone perfect. And regardless of size, looking like everyone else is boring. You’re stunning, Vee, and what makes you different is what makes you stand out. In the best way possible.”

She offers me a slight smile through the mirror.

“Do you think I look like the guys I grew up playing hockey with in Indiana? Fuck no, I don’t. And now, in the league, my peers don’t look like me. But look at us together.” I nod towards our reflection. “You can’t look at us and say we don’t fit in. We go together perfectly.”

Her blue-green eyes gloss over in the reflection. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Zee.”

Oh, fuck. My heart. The words. The girl. It all makes my heart race and for my lungs to be short of oxygen.

“Same here, sweetheart.”

I pepper kisses on the side of her head as I watch a smile pull at her lips through the mirror. And though I love every single curve on her body, that one right there is my favorite.