Push (Colorado Storm Hockey #3)

Chapter 24

24

HUX

The locker room’s buzzing from our victory, but I can barely hear it over the pounding in my head. Sweeping Dallas feels good, damn good, but that last game was a fucking war. Johnson and his goons played like they had nothing to lose. Which, I guess, they didn’t.

I flex my hand, knuckles stinging from connecting with Johnson’s jaw. Fucker had it coming. Worth the penalty minutes, even if Coach is gonna chew me out later.

But hell, it was worth it. Especially knowing Ada was watching.

Ada. In the stands. Wearing my jersey.

It felt different than with Debbie. She’d come to games, but it always felt like an obligation. Like she was just going through the motions of being a “hockey wife.”

But Ada? Every time I looked her way, she was watching me so intensely. And the way she was looking at me? It lit a fire in my gut. Made me want to show her exactly what I could do on the ice. Made me want to crush Dallas into dust.

And we did. We fucking did.

“Hey, Hux!” Mac calls out. “You coming out to celebrate? ”

I shake my head. “Nah, I’m heading home. Need some ice and sleep.”

Truth is, I need quiet. I need to process this win and what it means. We’re going to the championship finals. Again. And it dawns on me that I have at most seven games left to play in my career. The thought breaks my heart.

I check my phone as I’m changing. A text from Ada:

Adaline Khoury: Thank you so much for the tickets! You were amazing out there. But we’ve got to talk about the fighting. Mallory can tell you I almost had a heart attack, Mr. Huxley. Should we wait around to see you?

Something warm unfurls in my chest. Maybe I don’t want to be alone tonight. Maybe I don’t want the quiet after all. What I want is Ada.

It’s going to take me a while to get out of here. Can I stop by on my way home tonight? I type out.

I’m tempted to add on a Mrs. Huxley to the end, but I haven’t forgotten that she didn’t want to take my last name when we got married in Vegas. I hit send and hope she says yes. Fortunately, since the night we first met, I have been successful in persuading her to go along with my ideas.

Adaline Khoury: Sounds great! I need to drop Mallory off, but then I’ll meet you there. Any chance you can pick up a bottle of wine on your way?

You’ve got it, I text back.

I hurry through all the post-game things I have to do and make my way to a supermarket by her house that’s still open. I decide on a mellow red for the wine and matching roses to surprise her. I don’t recall the last time I bought flowers for someone. In fact, the more I think about it, I’m not sure I ever have.

When I knock on her door with the wine and roses in hand, I don’t think too much about how she might greet me. So I’m not prepared in the least bit when she swings the door open with a big old smile on her face, wearing nothing but a Colorado Storm jersey. My jersey , to be exact.

“Hi,” she says with a coy smile.

I swallow twice before I can respond. “Hi.”

Debbie never did this. Hell, I haven’t even fantasized about a woman in my jersey since I was in Juniors. But seeing Ada like this…it does things to me. Knowing that she likes me, that she wants to wear my name…it’s more than I could ever bargain for when I impulsively married her in Vegas.

She giggles. “You’re staring.”

“I know,” I reply, but don’t stop.

“Want to come in?” she asks, taking a few steps back from the door.

I follow, quickly setting the wine and roses on a nearby table. She doesn’t even notice because I’m scooping her up and wrapping her legs around my waist before I can even close the door. My lips connect with hers before she laughs at me again and I think she figures out pretty fast why I was staring so much.

When we finally break apart, I’m lost for words and out of breath, but Ada spots the goodies I’ve set on the table. “Oh, Nik. You got me roses?”

I carry her over to the table, letting her inspect the flowers while keeping her in my arms. She reaches for the wine bottle, and her nose wrinkles slightly.

“Red wine?” she asks. There’s a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“You don’t like it?”

She gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m more of a white wine girl, but I love the thought of it.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “We still have so much more to learn about each other. I think it’s been too long since we played Q&A.”

“You’re totally right,” she says and goes back to kissing me .

As I carry Ada towards the bedroom, I’m struck by how right this feels. Sure, I don’t know things like her favorite kind of wine, but we’ve got plenty of time to figure that out. Right now, I want to show my wife just how much I appreciated her support tonight at the game.

We tumble onto the bed and she lets out such a beautiful laugh and it makes me smile from ear to ear. We kiss and touch and she gets greedy to get my clothes off. As for me, if I have my way, she’ll keep that jersey on the whole time.

“Lay back,” she orders, and I’m more than happy to do what she says.

She takes me into her mouth and I let out a low moan. I close my eyes and savor the sensation. She grips my hips and the warm wetness engulfing me feels fantastic. When I open my eyes again, I see the jersey has ridden up her thighs and it’s so fucking hot.

“Do you like that?” she asks.

I grunt in response as her lips and tongue go back to working their magic. She knows just what to do, how to touch me in all the right places as if we’ve been together for years. I take hold of her thick curly hair, so I can get a better view of her lips wrapped around me. It’s the fucking best sight I’ve seen.

My senses are flooded, and I can feel my body tensing up. Just as I am on the brink of letting go, I carefully grasp her shoulders and guide her back up. She seems to understand what I want and moves herself over me. She sinks down onto me and moans so sweetly.

Her eyes flutter shut, but I don’t dare blink. I don’t want to take my eyes off her. She starts to move, like really move. Her hips are mesmerizing in the way they sway. I reach up to cup her face and want to see her eyes. My contact works and her eyes meet mine as she continues to guide us.

“Ada,” I rasp. “More.”

She gives me what I need by picking up the pace. It’s not long before her movements become frenzied and she loses some of her control. Her jersey has ridden up over her hips, and now I want to see more of her. So I push it up further, over her breasts, and then I’m fucking lost to what’s happening. My hands are roaming all over her body as she rides.

It must become too much for her because she captures my hands and intertwines our fingers. She uses me as support as she goes. I don’t mind it, because suddenly I’m struck by the feeling of her wedding ring pressed against my fingers and that feeling does something to me. Somehow, it makes all of this even more intense.

When she looks down at me and our eyes connect again, I feel every ounce of her desire. And this makes everything escalate. I’m rising off the bed, using my hips to thrust into her. We find a rhythm that works for us and all hell breaks loose.

“I’m close,” she blurts out.

“Me too,” I groan. Then I let go of her hands to hold her upright by her hips and thrust deeper inside her.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, she comes undone, her body shuddering around me as she cries out my favorite expletive. The sounds she’s making, the way she squeezes me as she convulses, it all sends me over the edge. The groan that comes from me is rough and it’s definitely not subtle. This is me at my rawest.

She collapses onto me, and I wrap my arms around her. Our breathing is erratic and I can feel her heart pounding as hard as mine. As I hold her close, my mind is still reeling from what we’ve just experienced together. Each time with her gets better, more serious, more meaningful. More loving.

I kiss the top of her head. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“Thank you,” she whispers back.

If you’d told me a year ago I’d be at a Lebanese festival, I would have asked what you’re smoking. But here I am, sitting beside Ada under a tent in her church’s parking lot selling her products. We’re surrounded by her family and what seems like most of Denver’s Lebanese community.

“Yalla, habaibi!” Ada’s grandmother Lena calls out to us, waving us over. I’m still getting used to all these terms of endearment, but hey, at least no one’s calling me an asshole. At least I don’t think they are.

“Mark, go work at your sister’s table. They need to eat,” Lena says, motioning to two plates of food that I’m guessing are for us.

“But I’m still eating,” he says, mouth full of rice.

“Eat it over there,” she says and shoos him away. “Sit,” she orders us, pointing to two chairs beside her under the tent.

As we settle in, Teta Lena’s eyes are sparkling with curiosity. “So, Nikolas, what do you think of our little gathering?”

“It’s different,” I admit, glancing around at the lively crowd. “But in a good way.”

Lena nods with a rather confident smile on her face. “This is how we live. Food, family, and a little bit of chaos. Does your family have anything like this?”

My discomfort must be visible at the mention of my family, because Ada changes the subject quickly. “Nik, you’ve got to try the tabbouleh. The church practically bribes Teta to make it every year.”

I’m grateful to her. “This one?” I point to what looks like a very fresh and finely chopped salad.

Ada nods, already stuffing her face. I take a bite and holy shit, it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. “Damn, that’s good,” I say, probably spraying green bits everywhere.

Lena beams at me, patting my cheek. “Lebanese food is the best, isn’t it?”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am. ”

“Call me Teta,” she says with a smile that reminds me of Ada’s.

“I hope you had some help to make all of this, Teta,” Ada says, and I notice a concerned look on her face.

Lena shrugs, but she’s practically glowing with pride. “It’s for the church,” she answers. “Do you like to cook, Nikolas?”

“I do, as a matter of fact.”

Lena’s eyes light up like she just had a brilliant idea. “That’s great news. I’ll teach you how to make kibbeh. It’s Ada’s favorite.”

“Nik doesn’t have time for that, Teta,” Ada says and shakes her head.

“I would love to learn how to do that,” I tell her. “Just after the season ends.”

“Of course,” Lena replies.

Our alone time with Lena is short-lived as more of Ada’s family takes seats around us at the table. I’ve been doing my best to remember their names, but there are just so many of them. One I know now is Uncle Joe, who has a fiery personality and doesn’t hold much back. “So, Hux,” he says as he sidles up to me, “you think you can take Florida in the finals?”

I grin, feeling surprisingly at ease. “We’ve got an excellent shot. They’re tough, but we’re tougher.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Joe claps me on the back hard.

When we finally escape back to the booth, I help Ada arrange her products while she chats with folks. She’s in her element here, and it’s nice to see. She clearly has a passion for the usefulness of her products and it’s not just about making sales. I learn quite a bit about the benefits of different herbs and oils and I think back fondly to that first night in her workshop when she applied that balm to my shoulder. The stuff is great. I’ve been using it after games and it helps.

She makes a ton of sales and it becomes clear why she has to outsource production to keep up. “How’s it going with the production company?” I ask.

Ada bites her lip. “I’m just worried about the quality. What if it’s not the same?”

“I’m not sure how it could be exactly the same, but it’s going to be close enough, I’m guessing. It’s the right thing to do. Plus, if anyone can make sure it’s close to perfect, it’s you. You’re a force of nature with this stuff.”

She smiles and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. “Thanks, Nik. That means a lot that you think that.”

“How could I not think that? Look at all you’ve done and all you’ve created. It’s so impressive to me.”

And I mean that. Ada has created this with her own two hands and had enough confidence to share it with others. Her approach to her business is inspiring.

Ada opens her mouth to reply but doesn’t get the chance because Kyla swoops in, towing her husband David along with her. “How’s married life, love birds?” Kyla asks.

“Oh, um,” Ada begins as she tries to put some words together.

I’m very curious how Ada will respond to this, but unfortunately, David pulls my attention away. “Hux, I was wondering if I could bend your ear about hockey strategy.”

Normally, I don’t go for this type of thing, but since we’re all family now, I guess I kind of have to. “Uh, sure.”

Ada gives me a sympathetic look as I stand up to talk to David. He chatters at me about the Storm’s power play while I strain to eavesdrop on Ada and Kyla. I could easily just ask Ada what she has to think about married life with me, but I’d love to hear her tell someone else.

Suddenly the music changes and a lively Arabic-sounding song gets turned up much louder and men are lining up on the lawn .

I look back at Ada and there’s a glint in her eye that I recognize means trouble for me.

“Oh no,” I mutter. This can’t be good.

“Come on, Nik! It’s time for the dabke!”

Before I can protest, I’m being pulled into the line of men. They’re holding hands, forming a chain that snakes across the lawn. Ada’s uncle Joe is on one side of me, grinning widely, and David joins me on the other side. I consider bolting. Like, really consider it, dropping my wedding ring as I make a break for my Jeep. But when I see Ada’s smile and the amusement in her eyes, I know there’s no way I could ever do that.

“Just follow my lead, son,” Joe shouts over the music, and the term of endearment doesn’t escape me.

The beat kicks in and suddenly everyone’s moving. It’s a mix of stomping, kicking, and bouncing that looks deceptively simple. The lead dancer, at the head of the line, is twirling a handkerchief above his head, setting the pace for everyone else.

What follows is possibly the most uncoordinated three minutes of my life. I’m used to grace on the ice, but this? This is a whole different game. My feet refuse to cooperate, stomping when they should step, kicking when they should be still. The bouncing throws me off—it’s nothing like the smooth glide of skating.

I nearly head-butt Joe twice as I try to match the up-and-down motion. My kicks are wild and uncontrolled. I’m pretty sure I kicked David in the shin at least once. The line moves as one unit, but I’m always a beat behind and disrupting the flow.

The other men I’m dancing with make it look effortless. Me? Not so much. I look like someone ice skating for the first time. But despite my utter lack of coordination, there’s something fun about it and the energy is infectious.

As I stumble through the steps, I catch Ada’s eye. She’s doubled over with laughter, but her eyes are shining with something that looks a lot like pride. “Look at my husband go!” she cheers, and something warm blooms in my chest at the word ‘husband.’

At this moment, surrounded by her family, I feel a sense of belonging I haven’t experienced outside of a hockey team. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I’m terrible at this dance, but I stop giving a shit. I’m just happy to be here and be a part of this.

Even Teta Lena is now laughing at me, whispering something to Ada, who is smiling a mile wide and nodding her head. Who knew that making a fool of myself in front of Ada would feel so good?

As the dance ends, I stumble back to Ada, breathless and grinning. My body aches in ways I’m not used to, but my heart feels lighter than it has in years. “How’d I do?” I ask, knowing full well I was a disaster.

“Oh, honey,” she says and pats my cheek. “Let’s stick to hockey, shall we?”

I laugh, pulling her close. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

For a moment, we just stand there, my arms around her waist, her hands resting on my chest. The world fades away—it’s just us. Ada looks up at me, her eyes sparkling with joy and something deeper, something that feels like love.

Without thinking about what her family might think, I lean down and kiss my wife.

Ada responds in my favorite way. Her fingers curl into my shirt and she pulls me closer. I can feel her smile against my lips, and it makes me smile too. When we finally break apart, we’re smiling at each other like we’ve never kissed before.

“What was that for?” Ada asks. Her cheeks are flushed.

I shrug, suddenly feeling shy. “I just really wanted to kiss you.”

She reaches up, cupping my face in her hands. “Thank you for being here,” she says softly, then pulls me down for another quick kiss .

As we turn back to rejoin the festivities, I realize this sense of belonging is not just about Ada’s family accepting me. It’s about me letting them in, too.

As we walk around, I spot George and Mallory at a nearby booth, laughing together as they play some kind of ring toss game.

Ada follows my gaze and smiles. “They’re cute together, aren’t they?”

I nod. “Yeah, they are. I’m glad they ended up together.”

“I think you’re just glad I didn’t end up with him,” Ada says and laughs.

“You’re not wrong,” I tell her and squeeze her hand. “I feel like I should apologize to the guy at some point.”

“Me too,” Ada says and leans against my arm.

Suddenly, a commotion on the lawn catches our attention. We rush over to find Teta Lena collapsed on the ground, her face pale and clammy.

“Teta!” Ada cries out and drops to her knees beside her grandmother.

I’m already pulling out my phone to call an ambulance. “It’s probably the heat,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm for Ada’s sake.

Lena is conscious, but very groggy. She tries to get up, but everyone, including me, tells her to stay where she is.

The next few minutes are a blur of activity. Someone places a soft cushion beneath her head and another person holds an umbrella over her to block the sun. The ambulance arrives and the paramedics quickly assess Teta Lena’s condition. Her blood pressure is way too low. As they prepare to transport her, Ada looks torn between going with her grandmother and dealing with her booth.

“Go,” I tell her. “I’ll gather everything and load it up.”

“But—”

“No buts. Your grandmother needs you. ”

George and Mallory appear at our side. “We’ll take care of it,” Mallory says.

George nods. “You two go to the hospital.”

I’m surprised by the offer but grateful. I pat his arm. “Thanks, man. We appreciate it.”

As we follow the ambulance to the hospital, I keep a steady hand on Ada’s trembling knee. “She’s going to be okay,” I murmur, hoping I’m right.