“Am I good?” He laughs. “Fuck yes. I’m home, man.”
From the drop,Vancouver is playing dirty, elbows high and sticks higher, and Stone gets railed on jump. Vancouver makes it clear from the first face-off that no one is leaving this game without a bruise. Giulietti answers using his body as a human battering ram, and their center is sprawled out on the ice.
“Fucker’s gonna stay there, too,” Stone says as he skates by. He turns, skating backward, grinning with all the menace of a wolf with a fresh kill. “Am I right, or am I right?”
“You tell no lies, Stone!” Dash, who you’d actually think is high, since he and Noelle became a thing, shouts back.
I do what I do and keep it out of the net.
I have never wished a game away before, but tonight, tonight is lined up to perfection. She knows it’s coming; she gave the green light, but I hope this shows her how much I care.
I fucking love her.
The second period is just as bad, but the score is 0-0, so we’re not losing.
Rivera goes center and then left, takes the pass, and feeds it across to Dash, and he snaps it, top shelf, clean past their goalie’s glove.
Third period Coach asks, “You good?”
“I’m good.”
“Heard a rumor.”
“Yeah, you’re gonna be there to see if it’s just a rumor or there’s any truth to it?”
“You bet your ass I am.” She looks at the time and then at me. “You wanna make sure your face stays pretty and let Williams finish out the last two minutes?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“You think he can keep the score where it stands?”
“No doubt.”
She nudges me as he skates toward the boards, “Turn him around.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Claudia
Icehouse is wall-to-wall with jerseys,and every table is crammed with people talking too loudly over the music. I have always loved this energy, but I am a little nervous because if Savannah wakes, Paul is going to have to do more than smile at her.
I’m also exhausted from the inquisition about Deacon and I and the whole court date. When girls asked if I loved him, I froze. All I managed was when he asks me to marry him, I will say yes.
“A marriage of convenience,” Noelle smiled. “One of my favorite tropes.”
It allowed me to volley it back with, “I happen to love second chances and friends to lovers.”
“You need a drink,” Nalani says as she elbows her way past the table next to us.
Those at the table are clearly pissed that we’re taking up prime bunny real estate right in front of the section the players always take over after home games.
There is no hate, though. I was there once, meeting up with a player, so nervous I didn’t even notice Deacon Moretti was the man I’d gotten off with on that app a dozen times.
The roar goes up when the guys walk in. All of them in suits, one now mine. All still wearing that game-day swagger, hair damp from quick showers, faces flushed from the high of the win.
Dash walks by and pulls off his suit jacket, revealing a jersey with the number one embroidered on the front. He winks at Noelle as he saunters by.
“Pembrooke!” His sister, whom Noelle already knows, snaps photos. “He wore your name! That’s not just hockey hottie material; that’s husband energy.”
