As Killer, my defensive partner, jumps back onto the ice, I pull my helmet on before slapping my thighs, more than ready to rejoin him.
I take a moment to collect myself before I push through the door, my blades colliding with the ice. I relax as I fly forward and get into position. But a beat before the puck drops, I look up, and without even trying, I find her.
I swear she hasn’t moved. Her eyes are still on me as she chews on her bottom lip.
Fuck. What I wouldn’t give to know what she’s thinking.
I bet it has something to do with my body being on top of hers.
Heat shoots through me.
Later, Donnelly. Hard work before playtime.
Forcing myself to focus, I look back down and watch as Fletch wins possession of the puck and shoots it past the goalie.
“We fucking did it,”Linc screams, jumping on my back as we enter the dressing room. I guess now that he’s put my little sister down, he needs someone new to celebrate with.
I swear to God if I have to watch him shove his tongue down her throat one more time tonight, I’m gonna fucking blow.
He fucking does it on purpose, and it makes me want to hurt him.
He’s in love with Parker. I fucking get it.
That doesn’t mean I need a front-row seat to their tonsil tennis, though.
“Ugh, get the fuck off me. You stink.”
“Nah, that’s you, man,” he mocks before taking my cheeks in his hands. “We’re going to the playoffs. Both of us. Together. Can you believe it?”
“No, not really,” I mutter.
Linc frowns, his excitement waning as he studies me.
“What’s wrong? We fucking did it.”
I shake my head. “No, you did it. You guys were going to do this with or without me.”
“Nah, man. That’s bullshit. You’re a part of this, too. You deserve to celebrate just as much as we do.”
“I don’t, though, do I? I’m just the guy who was fucking up in Seattle and got a lucky break.”
“To where you’re meant to be. This is your team now, your home.”
“I know, and next year when we do it all over again, it’ll be a different story. We?—”
My words are cut off as Coach steps into the locker room behind us.
A cheer erupts before the guys pounce on him.
James Watson is a fucking legend in his own right. He had an outstanding career as a player, and his coaching one is shaping up to be just as incredible.
Everyone’s excitement is palpable, for very good reason, and I can’t help but be dragged along with them.
Once we’re showered and have let Parker and Darcy, our newest athletic trainer, get their hands on us, we head up to the friends and family suite to show our faces before we party.
I find my mom and dad standing on the other side of the room with Casey, Sutton, Kodie’s mom, Freya, and her parents, and I make a beeline for them, grateful that they planned their travels around this game. It means more to me than I’ll ever be able to admit that they still show their faces at games.
Honestly, when Dad announced that he was retiring as a player, I thought that was that: he was saying goodbye to hockey forever. I guess it was naive of me to think he’d walk away from something that has been a part of his life since he was a boy.
