Chapter Five
ALEKSI
The beer’s half warm, but it doesn’t matter. It tastes like freedom.
Steam curls around us in the massive, in-ground hot tub—probably meant
for twenty people but holding ten tonight. The CDC could lock the doors, cut
the lights, announce the end of the world, and we’d still be here, floating like
idiots in lukewarm bubbles pretending everything’s fine.
The water laps at my chest as laughter erupts from one corner. Someone
passes another can of beer down the line.
I tip the can to my lips, lean back, and catch movement in my periphery—
soft, slow, unhurried.
Kendall.
Every coherent thought exits my brain.
She’s walking toward us, hips swaying, towels draped over one arm. The
bikini she’s wearing is black—simple, but the kind of simple that still hugs
every curve I’ve fantasized about. The water ripples around me as a few
heads turn.
The guy closest to me lets out a low whistle. “Damn, that’s your wife?
What the hell is she doing with your ugly ass?”
“I have no idea,” I say, grinning. Because he’s right.
Kendall Hensen is out of my league. I knew it the first day I walked into
the Hawkeyes locker room and she was introduced as the team doctor. The
calm, brilliant woman who made every injury sound solvable. I was just a
call-up from the farm team, still reeking of nerves and sweat. She’d already
been with the team for a year before I signed on. She barely glanced at me,
but something in that moment clicked, like I’d just met the person I was
supposed to orbit around.
He’s right. She’s in a league of her own. Always has been.
I texted my twin sister in Finland that night when I got back to The
Commons: “Met my future wife today. She’s the team doctor.”
Saara: Can you date the medical staff?
Me: It’s ill advised.
Saara: Be careful. You just got into the NHL. Don’t blow your
shot.
She worries too much.
Kendall sets our towels on a chair, and then she glances around a little
unease until her eyes catch on mine. Then her hesitation fades the moment
she realizes I’m here. Like I’m her safe place, and fuck… I want to be. Her
skin glows against the low lights, hair loose around her shoulders. I don’t
realize I’m staring until the guy next to me elbows me and mutters something
in Finnish I won’t repeat.
“Room for one more?” she asks.
“For you. Always,” I say.
She dips a toe to test the temperature before she fully steps in and then
takes a seat next to me in the hot tub.
I hand her my beer to take a sip.
“Are you sure?” she teases. “I could be contagious.”
“We’re in this together, remember?”
Her eyes soften towards me. Whatever I said, it worked. Then she shakes
her head but takes a sip anyway, making a face at the bitter taste. “God, that’s
awful.”
“American beer,” I say. “Not my fault.”
Someone across the tub waves a hand. “All right, regrets game. The hockey
player’s wife is up next.”
She blinks and then looks over at me. “What game?”
“Regrets,” one of the other passengers explains. “If you didn’t wake up
tomorrow, what would be your one big regret?”
“Oh God,” she mutters under her breath.
Before she can say no, another guy across from her jumps in. “Okay,
mine’s easy,” he says, already half drunk. “Not taking up my best friend’s
mom when she offered to pay me to strip at her divorce party senior year.”
A chorus of shocked laughter explodes. One of the wives of another
passenger chokes on her drink.
“Wait,” someone says. “You were in high school? How old were you?”
He grins. “Seventeen but I was mature for my age. If you know what I
mean.” He says, glancing down towards the hot tub as if to mean puberty did
him a solid.
“That woman should be in jail,” a girl across from him declares, and
everyone bursts out laughing again.
“Would’ve been legal in Finland,” I add casually, taking another sip.
They howl. Someone splashes me. “Of course it would be, you dog. I’m
sure you’re not short on invites to strip at women’s divorce parties.”
“Hey…” I warn. “I only have eyes for my wife.” And that’s the truth, even
if she isn’t my wife.
I don’t want to be connected to my life before Kendall. I’ve had my years
playing the field, sure, but I don’t want to advertise it. Especially not around
the only woman that catches my eye now.
Someone else moves the question along the line as more people answer the
question.
The energy’s loose and reckless—the kind that only happens when no one
knows what tomorrow brings. Then one of the guys turns to me. “All right,
Mäkelin. Your turn. What would be your one regret if you don’t wake up
tomorrow?”
The beer sloshes in my hand. I could joke. Say something stupid, safe, like
everyone else. But when I look at Kendall—her cheeks still flushed from
laughing, that small crease between her brows from all the worry she’s tried
to bury—something inside me short-circuits.
“I wish,” I say slowly, “I would have married my wife sooner. So we’d
have had more time together.”
The group goes quiet for half a beat—then erupts in a chorus of oohs and
awws and splashing water. Someone throws a bottle cap at me.
“Well, at least you two have each other tonight,” one woman says, raising
her drink. “Most of us are single in this hot tub and apparently dying alone.”
A guy beside her raises his hand. “Not if you change your mind,
sweetheart.”
She flashes him a grin. “Are you volunteering?”
“Anytime.”
Everyone laughs, the tension breaking again. But I only half-hear them. My
focus is on Kendall, who’s looking at me like she doesn’t know what to do
with what I just said.
Then it’s her turn.
Someone leans forward. “All right, Doc. No more stalling. Your regret?”
She hesitates. Her voice is soft when it finally comes. “That I never became
a mother.”
The laughter fades. A quiet ripple moves through the water, like everyone
feels it.
I reach out instinctively, fingers brushing her shoulder under the surface.
She doesn’t flinch, but she looks away, blinking fast.
“I always thought I’d have kids,” she says after a second. “It just… never
happened.”
No one knows what to say after that. A few murmurs, awkward shifting.
The beer suddenly tastes flat.
She clears her throat, forcing a small smile. “Okay, that’s enough existential
crisis for tonight. Someone else go.”
The conversation picks back up—another story, another laugh—but
something between us has shifted.
Later, when she’s shivering slightly from the cool air, I lean close and
murmur, “Let’s call it a night?”
She nods, relief flickering across her face.
“We’re going to head back. I should get my wife back to our room.”
I climb out first and then give her my hand to make sure she doesn’t slip
while getting out. I grab one of our towels and wrap it around her first and
then grab my own, leaving the laughter behind as we walk. The desert night
air is warm against wet skin.
We walk slow, side by side, the path lit by a few dim courtyard lights.
Water drips from her hair onto her shoulders, not covered by the white
terrycloth. The stars above are bright—too bright, like they don’t realize the
world might be ending.
“Look,” I say, pointing upward. “The Big Dipper. You can see it better out
here than in Seattle. No light pollution from the city.”
She glances up. “You actually know constellations?”
“I used to camp with my dad. He taught me to find north without a
compass.”
“That’s very Boy Scout of you.”
“Yeah, I didn’t last long. Got kicked out for sneaking vodka into a winter
hike.”
She snorts, shaking her head. The sound warms something deep in my
chest.
For a while, we walk in comfortable silence, just the sound of our footsteps
and the night hum.
Then she says quietly, “You didn’t have to say that. About marrying me
sooner.”
“I meant it,” I tell her. “Every word.”
She glances over, brows furrowing. “You don’t even know what’s going to
happen tomorrow.”
“Exactly.”
Her sigh is soft but heavy. “You meant it as a joke.”
“The truth might not be convenient, considering our career choices but I’ve
never tried to hide my interest in you. Everyone on the team knows.”
That stops her.
She looks down at her hand, the ring of tape still clinging to her skin, inked
with those small Finnish lines.
When she finally speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. “You asked
about regrets earlier. There’s one more I didn’t say.”
“If it’s something we can knock out before morning, let me know.” I say
softly. It’s meant to be a joke, to make her smile again.
But when I glance back, she’s looking at me like she’s made a decision that
has nothing to do with logic.
The card light flashes green, and I push the door open halfway before I feel
her hand on my arm, stopping me cold.
Something flickers behind her eyes. Fear, hope, maybe both. She swallows
hard. “Then there’s one regret I don’t want to die with.”
I freeze. “What’s that?”
She steps closer, the air between us tightening. “I don’t want to die not
knowing what it’s like to be with you.”
For a moment, everything stops—the hum of the hallway lights, the
muffled laughter echoing from the hot tub where we left everyone, even the
sound of my own heartbeat.
“You’re sure?” I manage. My voice sounds rough. Maybe it’s from the dry
desert… maybe from her.
“One night,” she whispers. “And we don’t tell a soul. Both of our careers
depend on it. But if we die tomorrow… then it doesn’t matter.”
“One night,” I echo.
She nods once, as if sealing a pact.
Then she rises on her toes and kisses me.
It’s not careful or tentative. It’s raw, sudden, and honest. Her mouth is soft
but demanding, like she’s been holding this in for too long. I drop the key
card, my hand finding her jaw. I can’t stop myself from wanting my hands all
over it. I’ve fantasized about this moment. How she feels… how she tastes,
and it’s all infinitely better than I ever imagined.
I slide my hand around her waist and pull her against me.
She moans back in agreement, her arms looping around the back of my
neck pulling me closer to her mouth.
Her towel slips. Warm, damp skin meets mine, and every rational thought
I’ve ever had burns away in an instant. Not that I’ve ever had a rational
thought when it comes to her.
I push the door open the rest of the way and back her inside, kicking it shut
behind us. The click of the lock sounds final, like the world outside no longer
exists.
The room smells faintly of chlorine and cheap soap. The only light comes
from the bathroom, flooding in, soft and inviting, spilling across the carpet.
She’s still kissing me and I can’t stop answering her. My fingers find the
curve of her spine, tracing water droplets down her back. She arches into the
touch, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted from her. Just to feel her reaction
to my touch.
Kendall tastes like cheap beer and adrenaline. Like something I shouldn’t
want this much.
When I finally pull back, both of us are breathing hard. Her eyes search
mine, uncertain. “Is this wrong—”
“Nothing about being with you could ever be wrong,” I say softly, brushing
my thumb over her bottom lip. “And you don’t seem to want to stop either.”
She lets out a shaky breath, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at her mouth.
Her hands slide down my chest, the feeling of her tape ring on her finger
catching along my skin as she presses her hand against me. The feel of it
wrecks me.
She feels like mine. All mine. Maybe it’s just for tonight, but maybe tonight
is all we have.
I deepen the kiss, one hand slipping into her hair, the other finding her
waist.
I can feel her trembling when I lift her, her legs instinctively wrapping
around me. She presses her forehead to mine. “Promise me something,” she
whispers.
“Anything.”
“If tomorrow goes wrong… I want to remember this part. Not the fear. Not
the quarantine. Just this.”
I nod, because I can’t speak.
“Okay,” I manage, my voice rough. “Then let’s make it worth
remembering.”
I set her down gently on the bed, laying her on her back, bracing myself
above her.
Her hands move to the waistband of my board shorts. I catch her wrist
again, needing to be sure. “Kendall…”
She meets my eyes. “Don’t make me say it again, Aleksi.”
I grin despite myself. “You’re the boss, Doc.”
“Not tonight,” she whispers. “I’m giving you full control this time. Show
me what I’ve been missing.”
The last of my control snaps. I kiss her again, harder this time—hungry,
starving, like every ounce of restraint I’ve ever had was only waiting for this.
The sound of the outside world fades completely. The hum of the AC, the
distant desert wind, even my heartbeat, all swallowed by the rhythm of her
breath against mine.
And for the first time in a long time, I stop thinking about tomorrow.
In one quick motion, her bikini top is discarded to the floor. I hook my
index fingers into the sides of her bikini bottoms and pull them off of her.
And just like that, Kendall Hensen is completely naked underneath me.
I stay like that for a moment, taking my time to map out every inch of her.
My cock hardens against my shorts.
“What are you doing?” she asks, almost a blush at her cheeks.
“Memorizing how you look tonight. Naked under me. I never want to
forget this, even if it’s the last thing I see for the rest of my life.”
Because tonight, in this tiny motel room in the middle of nowhere, with her
beneath me, my fingers woven into her left hand, pinning it above her head,
the feeling of my ring wrapped around her finger as she gives herself over to
me for the night.
I’ve already found everything worth surviving for.
She said one night, and I agreed. But if we wake up tomorrow, there’s no
way this doesn’t change everything between us.
