My Hockey Alpha by Eve Above Story PDF

Chapter 306

Bonus 6: Shopping Trip

Nina

Enzo’s laughter was infectious as I jumped down off of the hood of my car.

The raccoon incident, the nearly- abandoned cake mission, and now my car being towed-it was absurdity that could only happen to me.

“Ridiculous,” he chided, grinning as he dialed the tow company and climbed into his truck. With the tow truck on its way, he put the truck in gear and began to drive down the road toward town, an unspoken agreement between us that the cake plan was still on.

As we drove, I leaned forward and turned on the radio. I smiled as the radio crackled to life, filling the truck cab with the rhythm of one of our favorite songs.I couldn’t help but sway in my seat, mimicking the dance moves we had mastered in our living room.

After everything, after all of the pain, we now lived a life in which we could dance freely in our bright and cheery living room, holding each other’s hands and singing out of key to our favorite songs, twirling and dipping until we were so out of breath and covered in sweat that we fell down onto the plush couch.

Enzo caught on quickly, bobbing his head to the beat while maintaining a watchful eye on the road.

Our laughter echoed in the small space, dissolving the tension from the raccoon showdown. The spontaneity of our little dance-off was like a soothing balm to the frantic pace of our preparations, a reminder of the joy we found in each other’s company. “You think we could sneak this song into our wedding playlist?” Enzo asked when the song was over, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Absolutely,” I replied, laughing. “The guests would love our dance routine.”

Enzo made a face. “Maybe they’d love your dance routine,” he chuckled. “Not mine. I’ve got two left feet.”

laugh. Enzo, despite all of his grace on the ice, was a clumsy dancer. My father insisted that we perform a traditional dance during our reception, which we

house three times a week to give us lessons on the dance, seemed to have resolved that Enzo would be a lost cause. He was going to step on my toes” and mess up the

said in a wistful tone of voice as I looked out the window. The pine trees rushed by us on either side, almost as fast as our wedding was approaching. “You sure we’re

gripping the steering wheel tightly with his free hand. He shook his head. ” No such thing,” he

in the pit of my stomach over the fact that my mother likely wouldn’t be attending my wedding; but Enzo seemed firm in his promise that she would come, and so I decided to trust him. I did tell her repeatedly in my letters and voicemails that I was getting married, and I sent her an official

we?” he asked, a proud look on

before Enzo

did,” I agreed, picturing our vibrant, welcoming home. It was a necessary balm to the pain of everything that had happened that year; a new beginning,

bleeding had already lessened,

yearning for the pain, yearning to rip the sutures out so we could experience that grief

clip our fingernails short so we couldn’t rip at our delicate flesh. Then, someday,

mounds of flesh that traced

forget, but it would hurt less and

the baking supplies we needed. Enzo trailed behind, his laughter following me as I filled

with peanut butter frosting; an overly sweet delicacy. The sugar would linger in