“If you’re injured, you shouldn’t be on your feet.”
“Put me down. I’m fine. You’re the one who just played the most unbelievable game. My throat hurts from yelling so much.”
“Thanks. I had some extra motivation.”
She squirms in my hold. “Seriously, Travis, put me down. My ankle is fine.” Some loose strands of her hair cover half her face but her smile peeks out. “This isn’t necessary. I walked into the arena and all the way down here.”
“Uh-huh and now I’m going to carry you out.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Don’t I look serious, wife?”
She tilts her head to give me a knowing glare for using the endearment. I can’t help it. Tonight, looking up and seeing her cheer for me, she felt like my wife.
“Where’s your car?” I ask, then shake my head. “Never mind. You’re coming with me. We’ll get it in the morning. Is Kinsley still here? Does she need a ride?”
“We drove separately,” she says, then, “Aren’t you going to MVP with the guys?”
“Nah. I do that after every game. Tonight is special. I’d rather celebrate with you.”
“Okay, but?—”
“If you tell me you can walk one more time, I’m going to toss you over my shoulder instead. Now be a good girl and wrap your arms around my neck so I don’t accidentally drop you.”
Her laughter is sweet and melodic as she obeys. I manage to pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder before I resume the walk to my SUV. She watches with amusement in her expression as I open the passenger door and deposit her in the seat.
Once we’re home, Hannah elevates her leg on the couch, and I pull an ice pack from the freezer.
“How’d you hurt it?” I ask, laying it gently across her ankle bone.
“I lost my line on a front tuck and my foot rolled.”
“Like a front flip?”
She nods.
“Will you be able to train tomorrow?”
“Yeah. It’sfine.”
I smile. “Fine or not.” I’m betting on not. “Ice won’t hurt.”
She hums her agreement.
“I’m so glad you came tonight.”
“Me too. I don’t think the TV would have done your hat trick justice.” Her head rests on the back of the couch and she turns tolook at me. It’s pride, I realize, that shines in her eyes. When was the last time anyone other than my coaches or teammates was proud of me? It doesn’t matter because coming from her it feels better than anyone else anyway.
“What can I say? I was feeling inspired.” I wink at her, and she laughs.
It’s quiet and dark in the house. I didn’t bother with a light or TV when we came in, but this is nice.
“What’s your day like tomorrow?” she asks.
“I’ll head into the rink after I drop you at your car. We don’t have practice until late morning, but I want to have the trainers work on my shoulder.”
Her gaze shifts and zones in on my left shoulder as I rotate it to ease some of the tension.
