Silence fills the bathroom. “You sure?”
I open the stall door, walking past her to the sink. “Yep. I’m better now.” I wash my hands, the cool water soothing my clammy skin. “I think I’m going to head out, though. I’m super tired this morning.”
“Kennedy,” Maggie says, using my full name.Fuck.In Maggie speak, full names are never a good sign. “Are you sure it was the milk? I know you guys are banging all hours of the day. You know I’m right down the hall, right? No judgment here, of course, but when I came by to grab a few things to take to Vladi’s the other day…I could hear you from the hallway.”
I glare into the mirror, meeting her eyes. “Yes,Maggie, I’m having sex with my super hot, young, full-of-stamina boyfriend. What about it?”
“Is there any possibility you could be…you know?” She pauses, and my stomach sinks.Don’t say it…“Pregnant?”
My gaze drops to my hands, rubbing them together as I shake off the thought, convincing myself she’s lost her damn mind. “No. There’s no way. I’m on the pill.”
She gently nudges my shoulder with hers. “Is that all you’re using? Cause that’s not foolproof.”
“I don’t need a sex-ed lecture, thank you very much. I’m not pregnant. I can’t be. I had my period…” My eyes widen, finding hers in the mirror again. “Shit…when did I have it last?”
Maggie winces, looking at me like it pains her to say more. But she does. “It wouldn’t hurt to grab a test—just to rule it out. You’re right, it was probably just the wrong milk this morning. But if you keep drinking the right milk and throwing up, it might be something else.”
I nod. “Yeah. No big deal—I’ll just grab a test. Just to rule it out.”
“Exactly. We’re just ruling things out here. Insert a pilot analogy; you have to rule things out. I’m sure you have one.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yes, we rule out problems all the time.”
“See? You do this all the time! Truly, no big deal. Now, come on; I’ll give you a ride home.”
I pull her into a hug. “Thank you. Thanks for being my friend and my neighbor and pushing me to love that man. I’m…I’m so happy,” I say as a tear runs down my cheek.
“Love you too, Kenni. You know, now that I think about it, I bet itisthe 2% milk that’s making you so emotional.”
I glare at her out of the corner of my eye as we leave the bathroom. “Ha ha. Very funny. I take back my thank you.”
“Bitch, you know you love me. Now let’s go get a stick for you to pee on.”
58
jordan
Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to figure out how to score on this team. Again. We’re tied at one goal each in game six. This is do-or-die—we lose, we go home. Win, and we live to fight it out in game seven. At home. In front ofourfans. Thirty more seconds to figure out how to get to that final game instead of busting out the golf clubs after a season-ending loss.
The worst part? We’re playing fucking Montreal.My hometown.Growing up, this wasmyteam. I had posters on my wall of all the players. Jerseys, tuques, key chains, T-shirts, you name it. All with Montreal stamped across it. And now I’m playing for the other team and trying my damnedest to be the reason my favorite team loses. My head and my heart are in a full-on battle as if they’re in a boxing match on the ice. The blood racing through my veins fuels my adrenaline with the surreal situation of loving and hating this team all at once.
The one benefit? My family is here. Myhomeis here. Having them in the stands warms my heart, sending a surge of pride through me. They’ve been flying back and forth to Milwaukee for all the home games in this round, too, but something about us all being here, back where my hockey career started, helps push my game even harder.
I’m dying for a chance to introduce Kennedy to my family and show her around my hometown, but between my game day routine, practice, rest, games, media, and her job, there just hasn’t been a chance. I glance up to where the rest of the WAGs are sitting. I hate that Kennedy can’t be here during the third period during away games. She skipped the game entirely tonight and is already on the way to prepare for the flight home. My teeth grit. Chadd has been a complete self-absorbed jackass lately. Kenni says he’s been somewhat behaved during their flights, still insufferable as fuck, but she’s trying to make sure he has no excuse to blame her for anything, and she didn’t want him to think the game was a distraction. And while I’m sad she’s not here, I’m so proud of her for being such a badass bitch pilot.
Especially with all the Chadd bullshit. Lately, outside of the flights, he and his girlfriend, the Edna Mode impersonator with her short black bob and constant sunglasses, have been everywhere. Every time I see them, they’re fucking making out, or she’s sitting on his lap, full-on groping one another in public. I mean…okay,maybeKenni and I are doing the same thing, but Chadd’s just…gross. And something about him just doesn’t sit right with me. If I didn’t know for sure he couldn’t have taken some of the photos of us, I would swear he’s the one behind all of this. I shove a player into the boards channeling all my anger for that dick pilot into my game—at least something good comes out of knowing that asshole.
Butfuck…I can’t dwell on any of that right now. I have to focus on winning this damn game. Montreal’s goalie stopped the puck after a killer shot by EJ, so we have a face-off right by the goal. Momentum is in our favor, even if the crowd is against us, and Coach calls a time-out to draw up a play, letting us catch our breath and forcing Montreal to stew and stress.
“Alright, boys, this is it. Let’s get the goal here so we don’t have to go into OT, and we can head back to Milwaukee towin this fucking thing at home. Bougie, Tay…that puck does not cross the blue line. We stay in their zone, got it?”
Tay and I tap gloves. “Got it, Coach.”
The arena is electric as the puck drops and Zack takes the face-off, but he doesn’t win.Fuck.Montreal has control, working to clear it from the zone.I don’t fucking think so.The puck is almost to the blue line as I channel every ounce of energy into beating it there. And thank fuck I get there right on schedule, stopping puck with my stick to keep it in the o-zone. I pass across to Tay as our offense gets in place.This is the play.The one we’ve practiced so many times, I can do it in my sleep.
Tay passes to Larsy, who fires it right back at him to keep the defenders on the retreat. As Tay shuffles the puck, I know it’s coming my way. And…fuck me…I see the shot. EJ has one of their defenders distracted, positioned exactly where Montreal’s goalie can’t see me.The shot’s mine.I pull my stick back like a loaded weapon as the puck heads my way. Swinging forward, I fire off a one-timer. The puck sails through the air, high above his blocker. Larsy sees it and heads toward the net for a rebound.
But we don’t need it.
