He lines up my sneakers next to his boots in the closet. He glances over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Now you’re officially moved in.” I lean against the doorframe as he fusses with my shoes. There’s pride in the way he arranges my life with his. “That easy, huh?” “That easy.” He takes my hands in both of his. The calluses on his palms rasp against mine, hockey hands touching hockey hands. “Welcome home,” he says softly. I kiss him. “Wherever you are is home to me.”
