Three years later

Los Angeles, California

The learning curve to grad school was so steep, it was practically a wall. Every student in my cohort was cultured, experienced, and basically brilliant. They had impressive professional backgrounds covering topics like foreign affairs abroad, reporting from the campaign trail, even medical journalism. I was no slouch—I'd carved out a respectable niche for myself in the sports writing world—but it was intimidating. I felt insanely pressured to keep up. Not just to keep up, but to be at the top of my class like I had been in undergrad.

Possible in theory, grueling in practice.

I groaned, slumping over my open textbook. I'd been studying for so long that the words were starting to blur together. The more I re-read it, the less sense it made. It was like when you stared at a word too long until it no longer looked like a real word, only applied to my entire Numbers, Statistics and Data Journalism textbook.

Oh, and it was my birthday. But sadly, schoolwork waited for no woman—or woman's birthday.

Downstairs, the front door slammed. I glanced at my phone to discover I'd completely lost track of time. Chase was a couple minutes late and I wasn't even dressed.

Footsteps sounded on the hardwood and moments later, Chase appeared in the doorway to my office, his keys in one hand.

He flashed me a heart-stopping smile. "Sorry I'm late. I had to make a quick stop." His smile faded and he studied me with a frown. "Wait, have you been studying all day?"

"Maybe." I hated to admit this, because I knew he already felt bad about being gone all day for training camp.

"James." He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Did you at least eat something? Take a break?"

Chase left early for the arena and I rolled out of bed not long after, taking a quick shower before shuffling directly to my office down the hall. I'd even put an extra Keurig in there so I didn't have to leave to make coffee, which I considered a brilliant, if dangerous, move on my part.

And I didn't exactly eat breakfast. But I did eat lunch, so that counted as 'something'.

"Don't worry," I said. "I ate lunch on the deck and studied out there for a bit."

Or at least, I tried to until our next door neighbour's kids and their friends got into their pool and began playing Marco Polo at the top of their lungs. After moving out of an apartment complex predominantly full of people in their 20s who threw ragers every weekend, I thought we'd be guaranteed some peace and quiet in the suburbs. I'd never imagined it would be noisier in our new place, but that was absolutely the case between the hours of 3-8 PM. Guess that's what we got for buying in a family friendly neighborhood.

Chase always laughed and said it'd be our kids making a racket soon enough, which was a fair point. Especially if our kids were anything like him—based on what his mother said, I was going to have my hands full.

Or maybe our kids would end up being quiet and studious like I was a child. But probably not.

"Did you take a break?" Chase repeated, raising his dark eyebrows.

"Yeah, I took some study breaks in between."

He narrowed his eyes. "Uh-huh."

Pushing my rolling desk chair back, I gave myself a once-over and realized I didn't look nearly as presentable as he did. He was freshly showered, post-training, in a fitted black tee and newer jeans. I was barefoot in black yoga pants, a random pink tank top, with wild, wavy hair. Chase was keeping my birthday present a secret but whatever it was, but I was pretty sure my current hair and outfit situation wouldn't cut it.

I flashed him an apologetic look. "Can you give me a few minutes to change? I'm a mess."

"You look cute." He walked up, hands landing on my waist as he leaned in for a brief kiss. "But I've gotta grab something to eat anyway."

No surprise there, the man was always eating. Our grocery bill was astronomical.

"Oka—"

Instead of releasing me, he ducked his head and captured my lips, kissed me again, deeper. My fingertips dug into his shoulders, my breath turning shallow. Just as I was starting to lose myself in the kiss, he pulled back, giving me a knowing look. We both knew if we kept going, we wouldn't be leaving the house any time soon, if at all.

"Now," he said, gently steering me out of the office, into the hallway. "Go get ready. I'll give you 10 or 15."

"That works."

He smacked me on the butt before turning and strolling away. I paused for a moment, burnt-out brain trying to catch up from the kiss and day of studying. It wasn't until he was out of sight that I remembered my question.

"Can you give me a hint about how to dress, at least?" I called.

His voice echoed from in the kitchen. "Wear pants."

Pants. Okay. Still vague, but better than nothing.

I headed into the all-white master bathroom and quickly washed my face before applying a tiny bit of makeup and a spray of the new perfume I'd picked up the other day. Then I stood in the middle of our oversized walk-in closet, staring at the rows of clothes aimlessly. For some reason, Chase's secrecy had thrown me off kilter and I had no idea what to wear. After changing three times, I finally settled on broken-in jeans, a white tank top, and a lightweight tan knit sweater—because it was fall and I had turned into such a wimp about cool weather that I should have been considered a native Californian.

A few minutes later, we climbed into his black SUV with the air conditioning blasting full-force. I reached over, turning the fan down and the temperature up so I didn't freeze to death en route to wherever we were going. Chase threw the ignition into reverse and placed a hand on the back of my seat, shoulder checking before he backed out of the driveway.

"How was training camp?" I asked, sliding on my tortoiseshell sunglasses. They were another early birthday present from him. It was like birthday week in our house.

Chase shrugged. "It was good. Always a little rough to get back into the swing of things."

"A little rough?" Now he was the one telling little white lies about his day. He was tired, and he looked it.

"Fucking brutal," he admitted. "But I hate to complain when you've been working so hard and I've barely seen you."

Between his pre-season training and my journalism grad program starting, quality time together had been scarce. It was an abrupt change from our leisurely summer, the majority of which we had spent lounging lakeside, a few doors down from Dallas and Shiv, taking out the boat and sleeping in late. Having zero real life responsibilities to worry about had been a nice repreive, but they'd come crashing down again in full force lately.

Plus, now that we were back in LA and Dallas and Shiv were in Colorado, I was going through best friend withdrawal. I'd made some friends in LA, especially other girlfriends and wives from the team, but it just wasn't the same. Neither was drinking wine via video call.

"This program is intense." I raked a hand through my hair, which I'd recently cut to shoulder-length. It still felt bizarrely short, like I was missing a limb. "It's only a few weeks in and it's kicking my butt."

"Hey." He placed his hand on my knee, warmth from his skin radiating through the denim fabric. "I fully understand the big fish, small pond feeling. But you're there for a reason."

"You have to say that."

Plus, Chase had been intimidated for all of five minutes of his first NHL game. Then he skated around the ice surface like he owned it, and had ever since.

"Doesn't make it less true."

I glanced out the window, suddenly realizing that we were cruising along the freeway and I still had no idea where we were going.

"When are you going to tell me where you're taking me?"

Chase shot me a sidelong glance, lips tugging. "You'll see soon enough."

After passing three more exits, a huge gray structure appeared in the distance off to the left. The sponsored lettering on its oversized red sign grew clearer as Chase took the nearest exist and we drew closer. We were headed to the same place he'd been only hours earlier.

"Are we going to the arena?"

"Skating," he said. "Birthday tradition."

*

The new arena in downtown Los Angeles had been completed two years prior and it was a modern architectrual marvel comprised of steel and glass.

Chase held the door open to the players' entrance, following behind me. The emormous facility was almost eerily quiet, save for the distant echoes of the custodial staff cleaning. He navigated us through the winding hallways like it was his second home, bringing us to a stop in front of the metal, logo-clad door and keying in the pin code.

In keeping with the rest of the world-class facility, the Los Angeles Blades' dressing room put the one at Boyd to shame. Solid wood benches clad the players' changing area, with long windows placed high along the outside walls to let in natural sunlight.

Down an attached hallway to the left, there was a players' lounge complete with leather couches, fireplace, and a snack bar. The other direction lead to a video room with black leather seats for 30 and a second storey mezzanine held a track and training area, plus oversized hot and cold immersion tubs.

It was a one-stop shop for recovery, meals, and workouts. I'd seen it before but every time I did, it still wowed me. It must have been hard for players who got traded to say goodbye to the facility; there were only 1-2 others in the league that even compared.

Chase led me over to his cubby and set down our bags on the floor in front of it. I sank onto the bench, looking up at him expectantly. He unzipped the black equipment bag and kneeled down, rooting through it.

I started to have a flashback to the time he took me skating at the Boyd arena. Things were so new with us then, it felt like a lifetime ago. I'd been nervous just being around him. Those butterflies were still there now, but in a comfortable, easy way.

"We aren't going to get busted like last time, are we? There's no Roy lurking in the wings?"

"This time, I got permission."

"Did you, though?" I nudged him with my foot.

He glanced up at me with a grin, messy dark hair tumbling in his face. "For real."

Still kneeling, he handed me my skates. I slipped my foot into the left, but when I put my foot into the right, my toes hit a solid barricade. Probably a roll of tape or other small accessory that had been floating loose in his bag.

"Hang on." My hand landed on something small and square wedged in the toe of the skate. "There's something stuck in in my—" I tugged it free, revealing a small, polished wooden box.

My heart skipped a beat or three. I didn't want go get ahead of myself, but I was pretty sure I knew what was inside.

"There it is," Chase said. "I was looking for that."

He gently took the box from my hand, opening the hinged lid. The moment I saw it, I knew what it was—the center stone from his mother's ring, re-set into a plain gold band.

"Carter," I whispered. My breath snagged and tears flooded my eyes, threatening to overflow. This was it. My love, my life, my future. My everything.

The slightest hint of nervousness crossed his face, so faint that anyone other than me would have missed it.

"I know I've made lots of mistakes along the way, but you're the one thing that's always been right. Will you marry me, James?"

"Yes." A warm tear escaped, traveling down my cheek. I sniffled, wiping it away with the back of my hand. "A thousand times yes."

He slipped the ring onto my left ring finger and only then did I notice his hands were trembling slightly. Cupping my face in his hands, he leaned in and kissed me like I had never, ever been kissed before. It was gentle but firm, asking but claiming, a promise of forever.

We pulled apart and he rested his forehead on mine, dragging his thumb along my jawline. My heart was speeding, violating some law of nature. Time stopped, like a flashbulb moment I knew I'd remember forever.

"I'm so fucking pumped," he said. "I can't wait to marry you."

"Wait, won't that make me a Carter, though?"

"You'll always be my James. At least, now you will." He heaved a heavy sigh and his posture relaxed, his broad hands still wrapped around my waist.

"Were you nervous?" I whispered.

Chase's lips tugged into a half smile, his dark eyes holding mine. "Little bit. You're my once in a lifetime."

He was right. I never thought I'd find someone like him.

"You knew I'd say yes."

"Yeah." He broke into a full grin. "Like I've always said, we're endgame."

Anyone else's eyes leaking? (To quote Ethan Russell, for those of you who remember that chapter of Breakaway).

I think this song fits them perfectly and you all know how big I am on finding the right song for each scene.

Writing these two has been such a blast. I can't wait to share the bonus chapters with you all!

A heartfelt THANK YOU everyone who's read along to the end. To all of my readers, from those of you who were here from the start to those who joined along the way. I appreciate every comment, every vote, and every encouraging message you have sent me. Thank you to everyone who's recommended Offside both on- and off-Wattpad, too. Word of mouth is invaluable when it comes to helping stories grow and reach more readers!