Off the Ice
"The woodpile is half-empty, the snow needs shoveling off the porch, and I promised myself I’d teach you how to make coffee that doesn't taste like swamp water."
Liam looked down at their joined hands—the hands of an enforcer and the hands of a champion, now both free of the ice, the scores, and the corporate contracts.
"I think I can manage the woodpile," Liam said, his voice ringing with a quiet, certain strength.
"I know you can," Jaxson replied, pulling him in for a slow, deep kiss that tasted of woodsmoke and morning. "Come on. Let's go see what the world looks like when nobody is watching."