Perfectly Wedded (Perfect Crush #1)

30. Vale

THIRTY

Vale

T here’s panic on Jaz’s face when she tracks me down during my photoshoot. She’s running across the lawn in her bridesmaid’s gown, her face flushed from the heat. “You need to come now.”

The deep crease in her brow tells me something bad has happened.

My stomach sinks. “Is Sloan okay? Did she faint?” I try to remember whether she had her medicine or drank any water today. I’ve been so busy, I didn’t even stop to check on how she was feeling.

“It’s not that,” Jaz says, shaking her head. “The interview didn’t go well. The journalist told her about your new contract. He claims you got married so she could get your insurance. You know how she is when she panics. You need to talk to her now before she gets in her head and makes a rash decision.”

I know exactly how Sloan is. When she gets scared, she runs. “I’ll find her.”

She’s told me this from the beginning, how everyone thinks she can’t stick with things, that it’s a character flaw, rather than a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I glance around, searching for any sign of where Sloan might have gone, before my gaze returns to Jaz. “Are you okay?” I ask, suddenly worried about how she’s taking this news.

“I’ll be fine. Just find Sloan.” She gives me a push toward the house.

I sprint through the yard in search of my bride. I’d assumed that when I told Sloan the truth, she’d forgive me for keeping it from her. I had good reason—I wanted to marry her first, so she’d know my commitment was real, without any second-guessing. But the plan was to tell her myself, not have her find out this way. If I’d told her before today, she would’ve tried to talk me out of sacrificing my shot at the NHL. But the strange thing is, I feel a sense of freedom I haven’t had before. I don’t have anything to prove anymore. If I play well for the Crushers, that’s enough for me—not who I play for.

I run into the house and search both floors. There’s no sign of Sloan anywhere.

That’s when I hear the front door shut.

“Sloan?” I call, racing down the stairs.

It’s Brax, coming to find me. “A neighbor just reported they saw a woman in a wedding dress hop into the limo you rented for the reception.”

“Call the driver,” I say. “Do you have his number?”

“That’s the problem,” Brax says. “The driver is out back. Sloan stole the limo.”

It’s not every day you ask the police to look for a bride driving a limo she stole from her own wedding. But right now, I’m desperate for help, worried Sloan will leave town before I get to her. Lucky for me, the local police must be having a slow day, because they jump at the chance to find a runaway bride. After I explain the situation to Brax, he rushes into action by calling the hockey team to track down Sloan. Since Jaz heard everything from the interview, she briefed Brax on the rest. Which means I’m going to get an earful when I return.

After searching downtown Sully’s Beach, I try to call Sloan’s phone again. It goes straight to voice mail for the fifth time. She doesn’t want me to find her, even turning off her location service, which means I can’t track her.

This isn’t a good sign. If she’s not picking up, it means she’s in a full-blown doom spiral. She thinks she’s saving me from a career-altering decision and is convinced running away is the best option—even though it’s the absolute worst thing she could do.

Even if the press spins the story to make us look bad, we can prove them wrong by showing them the truth—that our relationship has always been about love, even if we did it all backward. But that’s only if I can reach Sloan in time. If I don’t, her disappearance will only confirm what they believe—that our Vegas wedding was a sham.

My phone rings, and the police station’s number appears on the screen. “Any news?”

“We found your bride,” a police officer cheerily reports.

“Where is she?”

“The airport, trying to book a flight out of here. Do you want us to stop her?”

“No, leave it to me.” If I hurry, the airport is only a few minutes away, and I’m the only one who can talk her out of this—if I can reach her in time.

“Best of luck,” the officer says.

“I’m gonna need it,” I shoot back while doing a U-turn in the middle of the road and then pressing hard on the gas pedal. At least the cops are too busy tracking down Sloan to give me a speeding ticket.

“Yeah, go get your wife,” the police officer says with a grin in his voice. “And while you’re at it, deal with your other issue.”

“What other problem?”

“She parked the limo in a no-parking zone. ”

I mutter under my breath. “Let me guess—I’m getting a ticket.”

“Think of it as a wedding present—from the local police.”

“Wow, thanks! Just what we wanted,” I say, chuckling. “Well, I guess that makes us even.”

I text Brax a message that I’ve got a lead on Sloan at the airport. When I arrive, it takes me less than two seconds to find her. My eyes immediately land on the breathtaking woman in a stunning gown. She’s standing in a long line at the ticket counter, trying to pretend that everyone’s not staring at a runaway bride who’s booking it out of town.

She doesn’t notice me striding toward her, doesn’t even turn around when I fall into line right behind her. I glance at the departure board for the next flight out of town, then lean in close, my lips just inches from her ear. “I hear Vegas is nice this time of year.”

She wheels around, her eyes blinking once as shock passes over her face. “How did you...?”

I shake my head. “You can’t speed out of town in a stolen limo and expect no one will notice.”

She doesn’t answer, just spins away from me. “I can’t believe the next flight out is to Vegas. Of all places.”

“Seems like a sign, don’t you think?” I shove my hands in my pockets. “The place where it all started and you became my wife.”

“You probably came here to talk me out of this, but I’ve already ruined things. Your NHL career. Your reputation. I need some time to think about how to fix this.”

I gently place a finger on her lips to stop her from panicking. “First off, you haven’t ruined anything. And second, I’m not talking you out of it.”

“You aren’t?”

“No.” I step next to her in line. “Because I’m going with you.”

Her head snaps toward me, eyes wide. “You can’t just leave. You’ve got a game this week. We need to let everything cool down after this story comes out. ”

I turn to her. “So you think leaving will help?”

She looks at me with a stubborn glint in her eyes. “It might.”

“It won’t,” I say firmly. Then I take her left hand and run my thumb over the gold band, the sharp edges of the diamond. “Leaving doesn’t solve our problems. Unless you want to confirm what The Star Report thinks is true—that you don’t love me.”

Remarkably, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she looks down at the ring, my thumb stroking her finger gently. Her brows knit together. “Did you tell them our secret about why we married?”

“I told them the truth.”

Her head jerks up.

My thumb stills, but I don’t let go of her hand. “That I loved you then—and I’ve always loved you.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “Then why didn’t you tell me about the contract and insurance?”

I sigh. This is where it gets harder. “I should’ve told you about the insurance, but part of me hesitated, wondering if that was gone, would you still want me?” I glance away, shame twisting in my chest. “I know it’s stupid. But it made me feel like I’m not good enough to give you what you need—and that one’s on me—for not trusting you enough. For not believing you loved me for more than what I can offer you.”

She stares at me. “You believed I loved you for what you could give me?”

I rub the back of my neck. “I’m not proud that I doubted you. I thought if I could sort out the insurance before you found out, then I could make it all right. So I called your doctor to push for an appeal, but I haven’t heard back. Then I reached out to another place the insurance company mentioned that helps cover new drugs. But so far, I’ve got nothing—and that’s what’s eating at me. I didn’t want you to stress over this on your wedding day.”

Her face softens. “You didn’t have to do all this alone.”

“I know,” I admit, dropping my gaze. This has been my MO ever since Dad left Mom. I fix things. I take care of people. I’m not the guy who asks for help—I’m the one who’s supposed to give it. When I can’t, then I’m a failure.

She places her hand on my chest, like she knows I need her touch more than anything right now. “Vale, you didn’t fail me.”

“Then why does it feel that way?” I confess.

“Because you’re human,” she says. “Feeling like a failure doesn’t mean you are one, Vale. You’ve done everything you can, and that’s all I’ve ever needed from you. But giving up the NHL deal without talking to me first? How could you?” She looks more devastated by this news than I expected.

I touch her face, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. “Because I wanted you more than the NHL. I wanted to make a life with you, to show you I was willing to give up the one thing that meant the most to me.”

“Vale,” she says, placing both hands on my chest. “You never had to prove your love to me. I already knew what you’d give up for me. You married me in Vegas. You refused to sleep in our bed until I asked. You kissed me to make Anthony jealous.”

“Actually, that was just the excuse. I kissed you because I was dying to.”

A smile curves her lips.

I place my hands over hers across my chest. “I just hoped you could forgive me for not telling you first, but that’s the risk I was willing to take.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she asks.

“Because I knew if I did, that you’d believe the lies your past has taught you, instead of the truth right in front of you.” I need her to understand that her past doesn’t define her. In my family’s case, I’ll never get a chance to ask my father why he chose to leave our family. But I won’t repeat the mistake he made. That’s the difference between me and Sloan—how we’ve chosen to carry the same wound in different ways.

“If I left, it would make your life immensely easier,” she says, like she’s already convinced herself it’s the only option .

My hands move to her waist, pulling her closer. “No,” I say, resolute. “If you left, it would destroy me.”

She stares at me for a long moment, then slowly shakes her head, like she’s trying to figure out why I’m even bothering to fight for this. “Why do you make me feel like you would be worse off without me, when we both know I’m the one holding you back?”

My thumb gently strokes her hip, a silent reminder that I’m here, I’m not leaving . “When my father left our family, Mom soldiered on, but I could see the hole my dad left, and I decided I’d never cause that same pain for someone. We might share DNA with our families, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make different choices, that we can’t be better people. We don’t have to accept that we’re destined to become what people believe about us. You’re not someone who runs when things get hard. What you’ve shown is that you’ve already made a different choice. You stay when things get hard. You stick it out, even if it costs you something. You’re so present with the people you love, coming through for them even when they don’t deserve it. That’s what I love about you. Until you came along, I hadn’t told any woman I loved her. You were the first. And as my wife, the last. ”

Her mouth opens, like she wants to say something, but can’t.

The agent at the ticket counter clears her throat. “You’re next, ma’am.”

Sloan doesn’t move. Just looks at me, torn.

“Please don’t go,” I say, my voice ragged. “This is not who you are. It never was.”

Her gaze flicks to the ticket counter, the departure sign for Vegas, and then to me.

“Do you need a ticket?” the woman asks again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, holding my gaze. For a split second, my stomach bottoms out. She’s apologizing to me, choosing to leave, to give up everything we’ve worked so hard for.

Then she squeezes my hand once, before dropping it. The feel of her ring, imprinted on my thumb, still pulses from the pressure.

She turns toward the ticket counter, and everything in me wants to push myself in front of her, to stop her from leaving.

And then I remember Mom standing in the doorway after Dad left. It cost her so much to hold love open-fisted, to let love go, but she couldn’t stop him any more than she could stop the wind.

Sloan steps toward the woman at the counter. “I don’t need a ticket after all.”

My heart, still in free fall, feels like it’s been swooped up. “You’re staying?” I ask.

“Unless you want to go to Vegas with me?” she says, her mouth curving mischievously.

“I want to go everywhere with you,” I reply, pulling her close, the ache inside more intense than before.

We step away from the line into the crush of travelers, some saying goodbye, others sprinting to make a plane that will take them to a new destination. We’re standing in the middle of a crossroads and I want to kiss her more than anything. But she puts up a hand to stop me.

“There’s one thing we need to discuss first. I know you signed the contract for me, but I can’t let you give up everything for this marriage. If we’re going to make promises today—vows I mean with my whole heart—I need you to understand something. I don’t need protecting from the truth, Vale. I need a partner. A teammate. Someone who comes to me when there’s a problem. When your contract is up, we talk. I’m okay with you moving to the NHL, but we decide together. As long as Sully’s Beach remains our home base, I won’t be the one who holds you back. As your wife, I’ll always be the one cheering you on, no matter who you play for. I’m your number one fan, the only woman who’ll obnoxiously kiss you in front of an entire hockey crowd.”

I rest my forehead against hers, sliding my hands up her back, hitching her flush against my body. “I would love to be your partner...” My hands slide over the curve of her waist as my lips brush hers. “Your teammate...” I trail my mouth along her cheekbone, leaving three kisses. “And your lover.” My hands graze her neck where I tease the corner of her jaw with kisses. “But first, we have a wedding to go to.”

She looks up at me, tangles a hand in my hair, and the whole world falls away. “Can we lock the hockey team out of the house afterwards?”

I laugh. “We’ll send them to Brendan’s.”

She smiles. “I can’t wait to start the rest of my life with you—for all the unexpected surprises and every night in bed with you.”

“I’m never sleeping on the floor again. Unless you’re there with me.” I kiss her forehead.

“And I’m never sleeping in bed without you again,” she murmurs. “We’ve waited long enough.”

“Is that a promise?” I ask.

She tips her mouth to mine, her lips an invitation I can’t resist. “Yes, starting tonight.”

I crush her body to mine with a kiss that’s a mixture of joy and need and a promise to never leave. I don’t care if the limo is illegally parked or the press leaks all our secrets. I don’t care what the future throws at us. Right now, all I want is us. Her hips press against mine, my hands slide down her spine. Our bodies locked into an embrace where you can’t tell where one of us ends and the other begins.

All that matters is the promise to be together, to stay through the happiness and the pain, the mundane and the fullness of life.

We pull apart, foreheads together, as people openly stare at us. Whistling and cheering erupts behind us. We turn to see the rest of the hockey team standing in a half-circle, smiling like proud parents. More than a few phones have captured the moment.

“Forget what The Star Report has to say,” Brax says. “Once everyone sees this kiss, there will be no doubt about why you got married.” We still have some explaining to do, but these guys already have the answer they need .

“Hey, don’t we have a wedding to get to?” Tate asks, checking his watch.

“Yes, we do,” I say, my arm still hooked around my bride’s waist. “So why are you standing around? Let’s go.”

As the guys disperse, a man stops behind us, his features vaguely familiar. The same eyes, the same sharp cut of cheekbones.

“Sloan, is that you?” he asks.

Sloan turns around, her mouth falling open. “Dad?” she gasps. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for your wedding,” he says.

She glances at me. “Do you know anything about this?”

I knit my fingers through hers. “Remember my text earlier—the surprise I wanted to tell you about?” I nod at her father. “You’re looking at him.”