Virtanen pushes at Kennedy’s shoulder teasingly, “Now you swoon, dumbass.”
“Number four,” Nowak raises his voice. “‘Favorite player/dog duo. French playmaker and two-way forward Philip Blanchet from the Huntsville Explorers and his adorable dog, Coco.Woof-woof, ladies.’” As barking erupts in the locker room amongst the guys, Tanner jumps into Badura’s lap and starts woofing and panting like a dog. Badura is a good sport at first, just quietly murmuring something in his native language, but when Tanner attempts to lick his chin, he growls something menacing that makes Tanner retract immediately.
“And finally,” Nowak raises his voice over the woofing and howling. “Quiet! Gentlemen, please,” he yells, and again, all eyes are on us. On Luke and me. Because they apparently all know what’s coming and Luke and I are the only ones left in the dark. At least for a few merciful seconds. “Número Cinco,” Nowak purrs. “‘For the best smile, head to Colorado. Find yourself a guy that smiles at you the way defenseman Luke Carrington from the Aurora Mountain Lions smiles at his teammate, goalie Cody Mitchell.’”Fuck. Me.
The room goes eerily quiet, everyone looking either at us or at the floor. Then Luke pulls out his phone from his coat pocket. The screen lights up when he taps it and after a few seconds, he finds the article inJust Women’s Sports.At the very end, there’s a photo of Luke and me, his smile broad, taking over his entire face as he looks at me. But it’s not just the smile as such. It’s his eyes. His golden-brown eyes are beaming under the bright lights in the arena as they fixate on me. Onme.No one has ever looked at me like that—aside from Luke.No one. And it’s not even a lucky shot by the photographer because Luke looks at me like that—exactlylike that—all the time when we’re together. When it’s just the two of us. When we forget ourselves. I realize that now.
I’m catapulted back to that night.
The shot was taken during the pre-game warm-up before the puck drop. In the photo, Luke is skating backward away from me. He had just made his world-renowned impression of Victor, realizing someone had eaten the last cookie. I was snorting with laughter while trying to do my stretches, calling ‘You’re impossible’ after him. Our fans were watching us warm up as they usually do, snapping pictures, and calling out individual players’ names. The press was there too.
‘You mean irresistible?’ he laughed, circling back, skating around me. To the outside world, we probably looked like two teammates just talking final tactics.
‘Presumptuous much?’ I threw back teasingly.
‘Just optimistic,’ he smiled. ‘Hopeful,’ he added, before once again skating away from me as a sea of hockey players and the roar of the crowd swallowed him up.
And that’s the shot. The shot that has earned Luke a place in theBuild Your Perfect Hockey BoyfriendTop 5. Luke, skating backward away from me, his eyes shining brighter than the starlit sky at night, his smile so overwhelmingly broad. I see it, so of course, everyone else sees it too. And while it should make me happy that Luke looks at me like I hung the damn moon, it freaks me out too. Luke Carrington, defenseman for the Aurora Mountain Lions, looks fucking stunning when he’s in love—because there’s no doubt that it’s love in his eyes. Luke’s in love with me.
“Who died?” Coach’s deep bass booms through the locker room, echoing Luke’s words from earlier. “Why the fuck are you not ready yet? Get your asses in gear, assholes!” He drones on, his voice ringing against the walls. “You might’ve won last night, but what I saw out there was nowhere near being pretty. You played like a sack of rotten potatoes.” He pauses, his gaze searching the room until they land on Luke and me. He clearshis throat, and I brace myself for what’s coming. Shit, is it about the article? “Well, not you two,” Coach looks at Luke, then me. “My new dynamic duo, huh?” he shakes his head, brushing at his outgrown beard. Then he nods, pride evident in his eyes. “Keep it up, boys,” he grunts, and I swear to God there’s an edge of emotion in his voice. “Keep it up.” Then he turns around, facing the rest of the team. Resting his giant paws on his hips, he clears his throat, his voice back to its usual boom box level. “I thought I made myself clear. What are you waiting for? GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR!”
I shake myself out of my stupor and head for my spot, my feet dragging with every step. Riley gets up and walks to Luke, mumbling something in his ear. Luke shakes his head, saying something back that’s swallowed up by the scrambling of skates and equipment in the room. While everything goes back to business as usual, the image of Luke from two nights ago lingers, forever burned into my retinas. Luke’s in love with me. And I’m in love with him too. As much as I’ve tried to fight it and reason myself out of it, I’m fucking defenseless against that feeling coursing through me right now. I want Luke just as much as he wants me. I’m just not sure that we want each other in the same way.
Shit.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cody
We’ve got five minutesbefore it’s time for us to take the ice for the pregame warmups. The guys around me in the locker room are full of excitement, and the photo of Luke and me appears to be long forgotten. At least for now. I just hope that it won’t become the elephant in the room and make things weird between Luke and me. Then again, he doesn’t really strike me as the kind of guy who gives two shits about what other people think.
I put in my earbuds and turn up the volume on my phone to drown out all the noise. A lot of the guys listen to some upbeat song before a game, trying to zone everything else out and reach that place inside where it’s just you and the anticipated game. Soon music filters through my earbuds, the familiar beat ofUnfinished Sympathyengulfing me. I don’t need upbeat today. Iwant Massive Attack’s deep bass to ground me. Make me heavy and solid in front of the goal. Turn me into the wall that I am. As the music floats through me, its message transferring to every cell of my body, I rub my tattoo over my jersey.
‘I know who I am, and I know where I’m going.’ I repeat the words while Shara Nelson sings, ‘The curiousness of your potential kiss has got my mind and body aching.’ As I look up, my gaze connects with Luke’s and he throws me a smile that nearly makes my legs give way beneath me. A smile that tells me everything I need to know. We’re good. Nothing’s changed.
I sit down in front of my cubby and start wrapping my goalie stick with new tape like I do before every game. Tonight, though, the bright colors from the pride tape the team manager passed out for Pride Night wraps perfectly with no creases several inches down the end as I slowly spin it around. Most of us have our own ways of wrapping our sticks, and we’re all convinced we’ll play like shit if it isn’t done exactly right. Hockey superstitions are a real thing, people.
The last bit of tape is smoothed out once I tear the roll off and toss it into my cubby. I redo my skates one more time, as the song comes to an end, Shara Nelson’s repetitive, ‘I don’t know where this one came from, I don’t know where this, I don’t know where this, I don’t know where this one came from’ fades. Tucking my earbuds into my cubby, I turn the music off and place my phone next to them. I’ve got my goalie mask on and pulled down as I stand, bouncing a few times on my skates to be sure they are good and tight, just the way I like them for a game.
I follow the last of the guys out into the hallway just as the horn blows out on the ice to start warmups. The roar from the crowd gets louder, and the anticipation grows as we ascend down the player tunnel. Excitement and adoration are displayed across the fans’ faces, especially those who are leaning over the railing, so we offer them gloved high fives as we take the ice. Therush never gets old and if you aren’t there already, this welcome is enough to fuel any player before game time.
Warmups are over quickly, as usual. I grab a few pucks from the net to throw over to a couple of young fans waiting along the glass as I make my way back off the ice to get ready for game time. Although I’m still new on the team, I notice several fans wearing my jersey by now, the bright teal number 8 mirroring my own, and it feels like I’m on top of the world. Some kid wearing my jersey, perhaps dreaming of becoming an NHL goalie, too, one day. Yeah, this is the stuff that dreams are made of; one tiny puck making a kid’s night or week, maybe. Nothing beats giving a child a memory they’ll treasure for a lifetime.
The game goes smoothly into the 3rd period. I haven’t let a single shot in from the opposing team. Not that the Pembroke Pelicans are making it easy. I have blocked sixteen shots so far. The Floridians are known for their quick transitions, but up until now, we’ve read their game perfectly. I’m super pumped and feeling good about this one. Hopefully, this will be another win to keep us on the right track to turn this season around.
There’s only one point on the board and it’s ours—a slap shot by Caps toward the end of the 2nd period. The reason it hasn’t been the highest-scoring game is thanks to our defensemen who are really on top of their game. Luke and Virtanen are doing a sweet-ass job at keeping the puck away from our net, giving the Pelicans hell as soon as they try to get one past us.
The game comes down to the last couple of minutes. The clock is moving fast, and I can already taste that victory and hear the crowd as soon as the final minute comes down. I can’t wait to celebrate with the team and our loyal fans, but most of all I’mjust looking forward to going over everything later in detail when it’s just Luke and me. Replaying the game move by move, minute by minute as we sit next to each other on the couch, mouths full of Reese’s. I just have to close this one out with us on top.
The other team is feeling the pressure though, no doubt wanting that win as badly as us. They’ve taken their goalie out, putting everything forward in a risk-it-all type of mission. One of the Pelicans’ forwards, Coolidge, has the puck, coming across the ice on a breakaway heading toward me, Luke doing everything he can to keep up with him. The fans are on their feet, the ones in the first rows banging on the glass as Coolidge crosses center ice. Navy and teal jerseys are all around him, but he’s got that final minute fire in him as his skates slice quickly across the ice. I crouch down in position, just waiting for him to make his move. My eyes are on the puck as he pushes it back and forth with his stick until he finally gets within just a few feet of my net.
Years of training have taught me to expect anything from these guys. And to never expect the obvious play. They want to bring the win home too. It’s the only thing that counts. So always expect the unexpected when you’re a goalie. Coolidge pumps his stick to the left like he’s going to shoot but doesn’t, quickly maneuvering to send it flying to my right instead. With my right arm outstretched, I glove the puck right at the edge of the net before it can cross the line.
The crowd goes wild, a moving ocean of navy and teal, the banners with roaring mountain lions held high above their heads. As a disgruntled Coolidge skates off, my team converges on me. Like a huge horde of wild animals, they attack me right at my net, bumping their helmets with mine, and slapping me on the back. Luke is right next to me, his eyes shining brightly, and everything else just becomes a blur. There’s only me and him, and the cheers from the crowd. My eyes stay glued toLuke’s when they reach me, my heart beating along with the two syllables that make out my name.
Mitch-ell. Mitch-ell. Mitch-ell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
