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Assistant: Title: The Stopover
        Author: benophiefan benophiefan 
        Chapter: 13/13 
        Summary: When hockey veteran Colin Bridgerton laces up for yet another season in Germany, the last thing he expects is a layover reunion with Penelope Featherington—his sister’s best friend and the one woman who’s always seen beneath the surface. What begins as a chance encounter quickly spirals into something deeper, forcing them both to confront the lives they’ve built and the futures they’ve been too afraid to imagine.
        Contents: Chapter 13
    

    


  

  
  
    
    Penelope’s breath caught as they pulled apart, the imprint of his kiss still burning on her lips—but reality rushed in fast, cold and clear. The terminal buzzed around them, indifferent to their moment. The chaos that had brought them here hadn’t disappeared.She blinked, trying to steady her voice. “Colin… I missed my flight. And it was non-refundable.”Colin nodded, unfazed, already reaching for her suitcase as he gently helped her off the hard plastic shell. “Okay. Then we’ll figure it out. I’ve got time.”She stared at him. “Wait—what?”“I got scratched,” he said casually, pulling out his phone. “Coach benched me and Pfeiffer for the game. Something about ‘cooling off’ before we take each other’s heads off next practice.”“You got benched?” she echoed, guilt flickering in her voice.“Technically, we both did. I was supposed to spend the day sulking in an ice bath. Instead, I’m choosing this.” He met her eyes. “I’m choosing you.”She started to protest, but he reached out, placing his hand gently over hers where she clutched her phone.“Pen. Stay.”It wasn’t a plea. It was a promise.Without waiting for her reply, Colin grabbed her bag and turned toward the exit, weaving through the sea of travelers with purposeful steps. After a heartbeat of stunned stillness, Penelope followed—through the churn of bodies and fluorescent light, out into the cool air of the parking garage.The drive through Frankfurt was taut with silence, but not uncomfortable—just thick with thought. Colin kept his eyes on the road, navigating the city’s traffic with the hyper-focus of someone doing everything possible not to dwell on the fact that he had kissed his sister’s best friend in the middle of an international departures terminal.He snuck glances at her now and then. Penelope sat with her newly-reclaimed passport clutched gently in her lap, her gaze fixed out the window. She hadn’t said much—not since the kiss, not since they left the airport—and the quiet between them hummed with all the things they hadn’t yet said.“You were never a distraction,” Colin said suddenly, his voice softer than she expected. “What I said before—that was me lashing out. I was p@ss@d at myself. At the way I handled practice. At Pfeiffer. At everything.”Penelope didn’t speak right away. The city blurred by outside the window—graffiti-tagged walls, pale stone buildings, signs in bright German script.“I haven’t had family in the stands in years,” he went on, his grip on the wheel tightening just slightly. “My siblings are busy. And Mom… she doesn’t really travel outside of North America. I’ve gotten used to being the background Bridgerton. So when I saw you there? In the crowd, watching me play?” He gave a small, almost bashful smile. “It caught me off guard. Meant more than I expected.”Her eyes shifted toward him, just a little.“And having you here,” he added, slower now, “it gave me a chance to actually see you. Not just through Eloise’s stories or random holidays. But you.”Penelope looked down at the passport in her lap, fingers brushing the edge of her failed boarding pass.Colin pulled onto a side street and slowed at a red light. He glanced her way again, the corners of his mouth tilting up.“Currywurst?”That pulled a laugh from her—quiet, but real. The first one since everything had started unraveling.“Might as well,” she said, lips quirking into a faint smile. “Make it my emotional support currywurst.”And just like that, something inside the car eased. Not fully healed. Not solved. But softened.Over an hour later—after winding through Frankfurt’s traffic, grabbing currywurst from their favorite roadside stand, and eating in the car with quiet jokes and tentative smiles—they pulled into the lot outside Colin’s flat. The sun had dipped below the skyline, leaving the evening wrapped in that dusky blue calm that made the world feel like it was holding its breath.Inside the apartment, the silence was warm, not cold. Familiar. The tension between them hadn’t vanished, not entirely—it still lingered, soft and shapeless, like something waiting to be named. But the sharp edges had dulled. They moved around each other more gently now, like they were both trying not to disturb something fragile.Colin paused by the door, keys still in hand. He glanced at her, his voice quiet. “You can take the bedroom. Like before. And… I’ll give you space. If you need time to think. Or rest. Or just… breathe.”Penelope nodded, her bag looped over her shoulder. “Thanks,” she said. “For everything today. For coming to the airport. And for not letting me totally spiral.”He gave her that lopsided grin—the one that had undone her a little more each day she’d known him. “Anytime,” he said simply.Then he stepped back, vanishing down the hallway toward the couch, and left her alone in the room she’d thought she was saying goodbye to that morning. And yet… here she was again. For a little while longer. A few more days that neither of them had expected. And no clear idea of what came next.She stood for a moment by the edge of the bed, the radiator humming softly in the background. Slowly, she peeled off her jeans and sweater, folding them neatly over the chair, before pulling one of Colin’s t-shirts from the drawer. She slipped it on—soft cotton, comfortably oversized, and still faintly scented with his cologne and something warm and clean. It skimmed her thighs like muscle memory.Penelope ran a hand through her curls, sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed. Emotionally, she felt like someone who’d run a marathon and gotten turned around at the finish line—bone-tired, heart full, and completely unsure which direction pointed home.Just as she reached to turn off the lamp, her phone buzzed.A message from Eloise.Eloise: The piece is done. Going live in a few hours. Sophie and Phillip both read it. And… we’re giving it a real shot, Pen. Thought you’d like to be the first to know.
  Don’t pretend you didn’t ship us.
Attached was a selfie: Eloise and Phillip, bundled up on a Seattle sidewalk, cheeks pink from the wind, her arm wrapped around his waist, his resting easily across her shoulders. Both of them were smiling—truly smiling.Penelope felt a small, tender smile spread across her own face. Her chest warmed with pride, not just for the piece Eloise had finished, but for the leap she’d taken—for daring to want more. To want real.She stared at the photo for a while, the glow of her phone the only light in the room now, when a soft knock sounded at the door.Penelope’s breath hitched. She sat up slowly, heart thudding as if it already knew who stood on the other side. Barefoot, she crossed the room, every step quiet against the floor. Her fingers curled around the doorknob—and for just a second, she hesitated.Then she opened it.Colin stood in the hallway, barefoot and shirtless, his dark pajama pants hanging low on his hips. His chest rose and fell faster than usual, like he’d just climbed a hill or made a decision that had taken everything in him. His hand was still lifted, frozen mid-knock, but his eyes were on her—steady, open, vulnerable in a way she’d never seen before.For a moment, neither of them moved.They didn’t need to. The air between them thrummed with the weight of everything left unsaid—the airport, the kiss, the apology, the unspoken fear of losing something that hadn’t even had the chance to begin.Then, as if pulled by the same invisible thread, they moved together at once.No explanations. No questions.Just the ache of everything that had built between them, breaking free all at once.Her hands glided up his bare chest, fingertips brushing over warm skin and the quickened beat of his heart. Then his mouth met hers—no hesitation, no teasing—just raw, consuming heat. Hunger. She reached for the waistband of his pajama pants, fingers gripping the soft cotton as she tugged him into the room. The door swung shut behind them with a quiet, final thud.Colin kissed her like he was starving for it—like every minute they’d spent apart had been a slow unraveling. Penelope matched his urgency with her own, her hands sinking into his hair, pulling him closer. Her back met the wall with a soft thump, and he pressed against her, all lean strength and trembling restraint.Whatever tomorrow held—airports, what-ifs, regrets—it didn’t matter. Not now. Not here.Only this mattered.Only them.Colin broke the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against hers, their breath mingling in the quiet space between confessions. His voice was ragged, stripped bare. “I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”Penelope, her breath shallow and heart racing, stared into his eyes, her palms flat against his chest. “Then don’t,” she whispered.The words landed with force—like absolution, like truth.He kissed her again, slower now. Not softer, but deeper. Purposeful. Then he took her hand, fingers twining with hers, and led her across the room toward the full-length mirror beside the wardrobe. The lamp on the nightstand cast a warm, golden glow that painted their skin in amber tones.“Look at us,” he murmured, his voice thick with something more than desire. “Just look.”And she did.In the reflection, she saw herself through his eyes—not as someone to shrink or hide, but someone seen. Wanted. Worthy. Her body, usually something she dressed strategically or tucked away, was now illuminated in the kind of gaze that asked for nothing but permission to cherish. Colin’s expression held no trace of performative hunger—just reverence. Just longing. Just her.He reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted it slowly, carefully, until it slipped over her head and pooled silently on the floor. She stood in nothing but her underwear, the air cool against her skin—but she didn’t flinch. Not under his gaze.Colin stepped behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, hands gliding reverently over her ribs, her stomach, the soft dip of her hips. His lips brushed her shoulder, then the curve of her neck, and a soft sigh escaped her.She turned, facing him fully now, her palms resting against his chest like she needed to feel his heartbeat to steady her own.“Colin…”He silenced her with another kiss—this one slower, deeper, like a thread pulling tight between them. A question wrapped in want. A promise laced in heat.Then, with quiet strength, he lifted her into his arms, and she gasped—a sound caught between surprise and surrender—as her legs instinctively curled around his waist. Her hands tangled again in his hair, her face brushing against his as he carried her to the bed.He laid her down like she was breakable and beloved all at once.They undressed each other in fragments—lingering touches, knowing glances, the slow unveiling of skin not just for the sake of want, but for the sake of knowing. Fingers traced old lines and new territory, like they were learning a language that had always lived inside them but had only just found its voice.And when only breath and bare skin remained between them, Colin paused. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and pressed a kiss to her temple. His voice was a whisper.“Is this okay?”“Yes,” she replied, voice low but sure. “Please.”And then there was no distance left.Their bodies found a rhythm that felt less like discovery and more like memory. Like they had always belonged here, in this bed, in this moment. There was heat—yes, fire curling in every touch—but underneath it all was something deeper. A gentleness that steadied the urgency. A tenderness that said this matters.They moved like two people who knew what it meant to ache and wait and hope.Like two people choosing each other anyway.And when they finally let go—when the waves crested and carried them both under—they held on. Arms around each other, hands clutching, hearts pounding in time.After, they lay tangled in sheets and each other, skin cooling, breaths slowing, foreheads pressed together, fingers still laced.And in that stillness, something shifted.Not just between them.But in them.Whatever came next—distance, doubt, the sharp edge of reality—this moment was real.Irrevocably, undeniably real.The room was warm and quiet, lit only by the amber glow of the bedside lamp. The soft hum of the city beyond the window barely reached them—muffled, distant, unimportant.Penelope lay tangled in the sheets beside Colin, her cheek resting against his shoulder, fingertips tracing slow, absent-minded circles along his chest. Their breathing had slowed. Their bodies, still close and bare under the covers, were quiet now—sated but buzzing with something deeper than just the physical.Neither of them spoke for a long time.Until Penelope finally whispered, “I had a crush on you.”Colin tilted his head, glancing down at her with a lazy grin. “Oh?”“Before I even met you,” she admitted. “Eloise used to talk about her brothers all the time—Anthony was moody, Benedict was mysterious, Gregory was annoying. But you? You were always off playing hockey somewhere. A little bit of a myth.” She smiled to herself. “Then when we finally did meet… I got so shy, I could barely talk to you. You’d ask how my classes were, and I’d just nod like a bobblehead and mumble something stupid.”Colin laughed softly. “You? Shy? No way.”“I was,” she said, poking his side. “You were handsome. And kind. And always the first one to grab an extra plate for someone at Thanksgiving. I just… figured there was no way you noticed me.”Colin turned toward her a little more, his arm sliding around her waist. “Funny,” he said. “Because I thought you were really cute. Always had this fire in your eyes—but you never talked to me. I assumed you just thought I was Eloise’s dumb jock brother.”“You were kind of a jock.”“Okay, yes,” he said, grinning. “But I wasn’t dumb. Just distracted.”She laughed, burying her face briefly in his shoulder.He kissed the top of her head. “I think it worked out better this way. We grew up. Found each other when it mattered.”Penelope hummed in agreement, then added more softly, “I wonder what Eloise is going to say.”Colin groaned dramatically. “Oh God.”“She’ll definitely say, ‘I knew it,’ followed by a ten-minute speech about betrayal and journalistic ethics.”He chuckled. “We’re going to owe her so many snacks to win her over.”Penelope smiled but her eyes shifted toward the nightstand, where her documents still sat. “I still have to go back soon,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “Work’s expecting me. And my passport is expiring. I need to renew it before I get stuck for real next time.”Colin nodded slowly, brushing her hair back from her face. “I know.”The silence settled between them again, heavier now, but not cold.And then Colin spoke, more serious this time.“About the journal…”Penelope looked up, instantly alert.“Were you being honest?” he asked. “When you said you thought it was good. That it meant something?”She sat up just a little, meeting his eyes. “Colin… it was good. Honest. Messy, sure. But full of soul. You wrote about things no one else would notice. About being alone and being invisible in ways I think a lot of people feel but don’t know how to explain.”He watched her closely, trying to read the sincerity in her expression—but it was all there.“I didn’t read it to mock you or snoop,” she added, softer. “I saw something that felt real. And I just… wanted you to know that side of you? It matters.”His eyes softened, his hand finding hers beneath the covers.“No one’s ever said that to me,” he admitted.“Well,” she said, lacing their fingers together, “get used to it.”Colin smiled.And for the first time in a long while, he felt seen—really seen.Not as a hockey player.Not as Eloise’s brother.Not as some background Bridgerton.But as himself.'
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