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496 pages, Paperback
First published May 13, 2026
Before tonight, Andrew didn’t think anything could be worse than being set up on a blind date, but he was wrong. Being set up for a fake blind date is worse because everyone in this room knows what Andrew has long worried—that no one really wants to date him. Not only is Andrew someone’s last resort, he’s the last fake resort. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but Andrew is tired of cleaning up everyone else’s messes; he’s so tired of being the last choice over and over and over.
“You’re not wasting your life because you’re playing hockey. You’re wasting your life treating people and money the same—as something disposable.” Nicholas picks a piece of lint off his pants. “What’s your point?” “That you don’t care about anyone but yourself, Nicholas. That’s no way to live.” “Why should I care about other people?” Nicholas scoffs. “I literally don’t know how to explain to you that you should care about people.” “Then why are we talking about this?” Nicholas presses. “Because while you care about no one, Andrew cares about everyone.
“I didn’t know who else to call.” “Me. You call me,” Nicholas says with force in his voice. “You’re in trouble, you call me, you got it?”
“Eyes on me, princess.”
“The real me is messy,” Andrew says, sounding unexpectedly broken. “I’m not perfect, I don’t have it all together. I’m so tired of pretending.” “Then don’t pretend with me.” Unable to resist a second longer, Nicki pulls Andrew into his arms, everything slotting into place when Andrew moves willingly into his arms. Nicki’s always loved his body, loved the attention his looks got him, the power his size afforded him on the ice, but being able to hold Andrew is the best thing his body has ever done for him. “I want you. Perfectly imperfect and mine.”
The contrast of their joined hands is stark. Andrew’s hands are smaller, more delicate, infinitely more fucking precious. For once in his life, Nicholas doesn’t want to rage, doesn’t want to break something, he wants to protect something.
“Fuck everyone else.” “See,” Andrew says, pitifully grasping at Nicholas’s shirt. “That’s what I’m talking about. I can’t say that.” “Then don’t,” Nicholas tells him, pulling Andrew closer. His body sways, like maybe the only thing holding him upright is Nicholas. “Let me be the asshole. I’m good at it. You care about the world, and I’ll care about you.”
“Don’t call me Andrew,” he demands, aware he’s whining but too miserable to care or censor himself. “No?” “No,” Andrew affirms, [.....] “Just princess?” “Mhmm,” Andrew confirms. Andrew has responsibilities. Andrew is controlled. Andrew has to mask. He doesn’t want any of that, and he doesn’t care if it’s pathetic or selfish or wrong. He doesn’t want to be anything but Nicki’s princess right now.
“Mine,” Nicki growls into his mouth. “Yours,” Andrew confirms.
“You’re mine too, Nicki.” “Yeah, princess.” Nicki kisses him again, a barely there press of lips that’s achingly gentle. “Yours.”
He can’t imagine what good thing he must’ve done in a past life to be worthy of being Andrew’s safe space.
Under Nicki’s gaze, he feels perfect. Not all the things the world told him or the things he told himself. Not broken. Not weird. Not difficult. Not hard to love. Just Andrew. Nicki’s Andrew. Nicki’s princess.