“Ew, stop being so cute,” Summer groans. “Seriously, before I barf.”
I laugh but quickly shut my mouth when Coach stands in front of us, and I know it’s time to listen up and find out what the hell is going on.
“Ladies!” Coach calls out. “I ran into Coach Huff in the hallway a few hours ago, and we got to talking.” She nods her head toward Cade. “We talked about how well our teams have been playing. We talked about how proud we are of the gains this season. And … we talked about how …” She stops, looking at Cade again. “What was that last thing we talked about, Coach?”
Cade grins a true Uncle Cade grin. The kind that warms everyone’s soul around him because we’re so damn lucky to have him in our lives.
“Hmm … let me think,” he says playfully, tapping his chin. “Oh, right. We talked about how both our teams are undefeated this season.” He tries to keep a straight face, but as soon as the wordundefeatedleaves his mouth, the arena erupts into cheers.
“Right, that was it!” Coach Sanchez yells. “So, we were thinking, if it were the ladies’ team versus the men’s team, who would still be undefeated?”
From the corner of my eye, I glance at Hendrix, and I know right away that he’s eating this up, smirking like a damn fool.
“Oh shit,” I utter, looking at Eden and Summer. “This is really about to happen.”
“Fucking right, it is,” Hendrix says, leaning over so his lips are against my ear. “Prepared to be smoked, Nineteen.”
“All right, let’s do it! And instead of three twenty-minute periods, we’re just doing two thirty-minute halves. We’re keeping the clock running during time-outs, water breaks, and when subs come in and out,” Sanchez yells before motioning the women’s team toward her as Cade does the same to the men’s team.
Hendrix skates backward, away from me, giving me the biggest, slyest smirk I think I’ve ever seen.
And I know one thing: this practice is going to go down as the most interesting one I’ve ever taken part in—that’s for sure.
HENDRIX
I take a drink of my water, watching the game play in front of me. I’m covered in sweat because after basically forty-five minutes of going nonstop, someone subbed in for me. Normally, I hate sitting my ass on this bench, but right now, I get a front-row seat to my girlfriend while she does what she does best. Tend the goal. After a short break of her own, she looks fierce, ready to attack, but every now and then, depending on what player is trying to score on her and what they say, she smiles and shakes her head at them.
Even though all of us in the arena play every game with a certain level of competitiveness that there’s no way we’d drop—even when it’s men versus women—we’re all still having fun. And to be honest, I’m not quite sure who will win this game because while we’re strong, the women players are fucking fast and downright sneaky.
When there’s a short time-out, Isla grabs the bottle on top of her net before squirting some water into her mouth.
I wish I could squirt something else into her mouth …
I don’t know if there’s anything sexier than watching my girl play hockey, to be honest. And right now, I’m just thinking of all the filthy things I want to do to her when we get back to the house.
So far, it’s zero to zero because both goalies are so damn good. Cash is naturally just insanely talented in front of the goal. And Isla? If I didn’t know from that hockey camp that her main position was a center and not a goalie, I never would have believed anyone who said that after watching her so far this season. The woman is tiny—even in her big, bulky gear—and still doesn’t let anything get by. Physically, I don’t know how she does it. But I have a hard time believing that they are going to pull her from there once the other player returns.
Standing up and leaning forward, I call out, “Hey, Nineteen.”
Her helmet swings in my direction, telling me I’ve got her attention.
“You’re looking pretty good out there.”
I swear that even through the helmet, I can see her eyes roll, but I also see a flash of white when she smiles, and I plop my ass back down, grinning like a fucking idiot, just like I always do when it comes to that girl.
Isla has brought me a sort of comfort I never knew even existed. Even though we’re both busy, balancing school and hockey, we spend every free second we can with each other. When I have late games or practices, I sneak into The Nestafterward and climb into bed with her. And a few times, she’s done the same at The Tower.
Of course, those times, I end up waking up, and my dick is suddenly hard once I realize she’s beside me.
Things with my sister have been great too. I’ve gone over to the Kolburnes’ house a bunch of times, and it’s been really cool to see her have an actual family. They love her. I can see it in their eyes.
But even though things are good in so many parts of my life, everything with Jeff is still lingering in the back of my mind. I can’t call him Dad—because it just doesn’t feel right.
Lilly doesn’t have any interest in having a relationship with him right now. She said maybe down the road, but now that she’s seen what a real dad is like, she knows ours was never that. She even wrote Jeff a letter, where she told him that she forgives him for everything he did during her childhood, but that she can’t let him close to her right now. She told him that she is finally happy and feels safe and that she’s afraid he’d ruin that for her.
When she told me about the letter, she also told me how guilty she feels because she knows he’s doing good, and she doesn’t want to be the reason he relapses, but that it had taken her years to heal from the day she was ripped away from me and out of our home, and letting Jeff in could ruin that.
I never asked him to stay away from me. I did go to his house, stood on his doorstep the day after Thanksgiving, and told him that I wasn’t ready for him to be a big part of my life and maybe never would be, but that I didn’t want him to relapse either. He promised me he wouldn’t. Although I have mixed feelings about it … he randomly comes to my games. He doesn’t come up to me after; he just sits in the stands and watches.
