I hesitate, but Leo nudges it closer. “He’s your guy, Eden. Took me too long to admit it. I’m sorry for standing in the way.” His grin edges back in. “And fine, I owe you any babysitting you want someday. But only if you wear it.”
“Jumping several milestones there, aren’t you?” I roll my eyes, but my hands are shaking as I take the jersey. For a long second, I just stare, then I pull it over my clothes. The polyester slides down, strange and perfect all at once.
The crowd around us notices immediately. A whistle, a couple cheers, a fan pointing me out to his buddy. The buzz spreads quickly. A few rows up, someone calls, “Russo’s girl!”
Heat rushes to my face, but I lift my chin.
On the ice, the Defenders skate out for warm-ups. Nate glides past us, drops into his stance, looks up at our pane. He nods at Leo, then finds me. A wide grin breaks across his face. He taps his glove to his chest, presses it to the glass, and moves to the crease.
His teammates catch on quickly. Sticks rattle against the boards, Finn shoves him with a grin, Wesley bangs his glove against the glass in front of me. The crowd surges as if everyone felt the change.
The anthem finishes, the puck drops, andthe Garden erupts. The boards thud under the hits; the glass buzzes against my knees.
Nate is razor sharp from the first shot, snapping pucks out of the air, dropping into a clean butterfly, pushing rebounds into safe corners. Every save tightens him, and every time he controls the puck the crowd roars.
I can hear his skates carve the ice, the puck striking pads, the terse shouts between teammates. He’s a wall—and he’s mine.
Halfway through the first, an opposing winger slices free on a clean rush. For a second, the whole arena holds its breath.
Nate explodes across the crease, pad stacked, glove out. He plucks the puck away with inches to spare.
The place detonates. Fans hammer the boards, chanting his name.
Leo claps beside me until the man next to us startles. He squeezes my shoulder and mutters, “Told you. Best in the league when he’s locked in.”
And he’s locked in because of me.
The game pushes on. Bodies crash, whistles come and go, the clock eats minutes. Nate drinks that tension and feeds off it, every time he looks up and finds me through the mask.
When the horn blows on a Defenders win my throat is raw, my palms ache from clapping, and my chest is full in a way I can’t ignore.
The horn still echoes when Leo tugs at my sleeve. “Come on. We’re not done.”
I give him a look, half spent, half curious. “Where exactly do you think you’re dragging me?”
He digs into his pocket and pulls out two lanyards. Glossy Defenders logos dangle on plastic badges.Family.
My brows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He flashes a grin that’s full of smug satisfaction. “Perks of having a best buddy in pads and a mask.”
Before I can argue, Leo is steering me past security and down a stairwell that smells of cold concrete and metal. The roar of the Garden fades into the hum of compressors and the slap of wet skates on rubber flooring.
And then I see him. Fresh off the ice, jersey plastered to his pads, hair damp, Nate’s eyes are bright with the win, and with me. The grin he throws could power the whole damn city.
I tear free from Leo, sprint the last steps, and leap into his arms. He doesn’t hesitate, dropping his mask and stick with a clatter, catching me and hauling me up. My legs lock around his waist, his hands gripping my thighs.
“Easy, Trouble,” he rasps, laughing into my neck.
“You played like you had something to prove,” I manage, voice raw from screaming my lungs out in the stands.
His eyes blaze. “Had someone to play for.”
The tears hit before I even know they’re coming. He kisses them away, one by one, slow and steady, the edge in him softening only for me.
“I love you, Nate Russo,” I choke out. “I don’t care what anyone says, what clients I lose, or who raises an eyebrow. All I want is you. My boyfriend.”
Something fierce and molten sparks in his gaze. His grin curves, dangerous and delighted. “Boyfriend, huh?” His voice drops, cocky and reverent all at once. “Say that again.”
