Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Dawson Sinclair: Me?
Ambrosia Mercer: All you.
Laughter.
Ambrosia Mercer: My amazing boyfriend played dual sports all the way through college. He led his team to their first NCAA championship with five touchdown passes. Then he turned around and won the championship with the Bullies’ hockey team, with a sweep of Middle Tennessee, who had the odds to win. It was a hell of a year.
Dawson Sinclair: Best part was you.
Ambrosia Mercer: Boy, I’m already in love with you. Relax.
Laughter.
Ambrosia Mercer: Dawson finally went into the NHL draft. While his brother, Louis, went first round, fourth pick, for the New Jersey Devils, Dawson went fourth round, first pick for the Nashville Assassins. So we say he was the number one choice.
More laughter.
Ambrosia Mercer: Now, hear me out. I’m going to say this, and I mean it with my whole chest—Jayden and Baylor Sinclair walked so Dawson Sinclair could run.
Dawson Sinclair: Did my dad pay you to say that?
Ambrosia Mercer: For a donation of $500, yes.
Laughter.
Ambrosia Mercer: But for real, it’s wild, because the day I signed with the Knoxville Bears, the team my boyfriend has been playing for the last four years, he got his call-up to the Nashville Assassins.
Dawson Sinclair: Thank God we’re pros at long-distance.
Ambrosia Mercer: Right? Like any partner of a hockey player, you don’t see them much during the season anyway. I worked in Nashville for a bit before I moved to Knoxville when I got the job.
Dawson Sinclair: We made it work.
Ambrosia Mercer: We did, but you’re distracting me.
More laughter.
Ambrosia Mercer: Not only was he kicking ass in the AHL, but he has also been working very closely with Rink & Riffs by molding young players. He has developed a training facility on the property for football, where he gives workshops on being a dual-sport athlete.
Dawson Sinclair: Not only that, together, Ambrosia and I have founded Skate for Words, a nonprofit that benefits children with dyslexia and brings broadcasting training to schools.
Ambrosia Mercer: As a woman with dyslexia who struggled, broadcasting has totally changed my life, and we wanted to give more opportunities to kids, not only in Tennessee but all over the United States.
Dawson Sinclair: We have raised over ten million dollars in two years for children who struggle to make the words make sense. We believe that each hockey player sees the ice differently, just as a dyslexic mind sees the world differently. But both are unstoppable.
Ambrosia Mercer: Absolutely, I am so proud of what we are doing and how much support we are providing.
Dawson Sinclair: Couldn’t pick a better person to do it with, but I have to say, I’m over this boyfriend crap.
I throw off my headphones and set Dawson with a look. “What the hell? That’s off-script, and I know ’cause I memorized it.”
It’s as if he doesn’t hear me as he moves to stand, pushing his mic out of the way.
I take in his massive figure as he steps toward me, tucking his hands into his pockets. When I got the job in Knoxville, he rented a little cabin in the mountains surrounding the city for us to live in. The front of the house is made of nothing but glass and is amazing during the winters. It’s where my studio is too. It’s small, but it’s ours and I love it.
Just as I love him.
Over the last couple years, not much has changed. He got a new haircut, more clean-shaven up the sides, while his curls are tighter, thanks to my curl washes. He loves to grow out his beard, which I don’t like because it hides his dimples. He has put on more muscle, no longer needing to be lean to run as a quarterback. And he still makes me so happy I could cry.
Has it been easy? Not at all.
Especially when we were living apart, but we knew that going in.
“Dawson, I want to get this done. I’m ready to go to bed.”
He waggles his brows at me, drawing my lips into a smirk. He pushes my mic out of the way before dropping between my knees and wrapping his arms around my middle. While I’m still confused, I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing his lips since I can and I want to. His eyes track my every move, and I grin at him. “What is wrong?”
“Did you not hear me?”
“Hear what?”
“I’m tired of being your boyfriend.”
I squint at him. “Then get out from between my legs.” He laughs as I try to push him away, ignoring my protest. “This milk isn’t free, buddy!”
His laughter has my smile growing, even if I’m confused. “I want to be your husband.” The sentence stops my protest and my movement. I meet his loving gaze—the need, the pride, and the lust swirling in his green depths.
The air around us crackles as our eyes lock, and a smile moves over his lips.