Chapter One
Finn
ForthelongesttimeI believed we only got one incredible, life-changing thing in our lives. Hockey was mine. But then, I got lucky. I met her. And everything changed.
I still loved the game. Still would give every ounce of my being to the sport. Except now, I saved energy and time for her, too. Suddenly, there was a life worth living off the ice. And I wanted to enjoy it with her.
Chai03: Nervous but really excited for tonight.
Her message came through as I began suiting up for tonight’s game. As I read her words, I brushed a hand across my mouth in a poor attempt to hide my growing smile.
“Are you fucking blushing? Who the hell has you blushing?” Lincoln, our goalie who always ran his mouth like he was being paid, leaned on the locker next to mine. He chuckled when I glared in his direction. If I’d given that look to any other guy on the team, they would’ve backed off in a heartbeat. But not Lincoln. He feared nothing. He’d laugh in the devil’s face if the guy told a semi-decent joke.
“I don’t blush,” I ground out.
Lincoln threw an arm around my shoulder, shaking me back and forth. “Yeah, you do.”
“I do not.” I shoved my phone into my bag before he could see the screen.
For now, Chai03 was a secret. My secret. My online friend, turned crush, turned…something more? From the more personal messages we’d been sending lately, we definitely felt like something more. I’d know for sure after tonight.
I had a plan. A) win this game against our biggest rivals, the Crows, and coast on that high to... B) ask her if we could transition our relationship offline.
“Your skin looks like it’s on fire,” Lincoln continued. “What’re you hiding?”
“This.” I showed him my middle finger. “Now, fuck off.”
He laughed, but at least removed his arm from my shoulder. “Very touchy. Must be important. Are they hot?”
“Who?” The team's star right winger, Henrik, looked up from his seat, where he was pulling on his skates. When his eyes met mine, he smiled and muttered, “Right. Never mind. None of my business.”
Unlike Lincoln, Henrik gave a damn what others thought of him. And he knew how to read a room.
“Hey,” Sam, our captain, tried to cut through the chatter in the locker room.
A few other guys looked up from their lockers. Most of their conversations continued despite the attempted interruption. Sam called for silence again, only to be ignored. These newbies were ridiculous. Sam’s approach to leadership was stern but quiet—I preferred noise.
I slammed my locker and banged my fist against it twice for emphasis. Talking stopped instantly. Gazes turned to me.
“Start of a season isn’t an excuse!” My voice was loud and bounced off the walls. “If a captain is speaking, you’re shutting the hell up. It’s not a hard thing to remember.”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest, flashing me a grateful look. It was entertaining to see the guy I grew up with become our leader. I knew how he looked hanging from a flagpole back in middle school. It was hard taking someone seriously after that, but I played along for the sake of balance.
“Get grounded,” Sam started his usual pregame speech.
“Leave everything you’re worried about in here because, on the ice, it doesn’t exist.” Sam scanned us all. His gaze lingered on Lincoln, Henrik, and me longer than the rest.
“Let’s give them something to rage about on the bus ride home,” he finished. The guys cheered in agreement.
Sam pushed through the crowd of our teammates as they started out of the door. “Finn.”
I took a deep, readying breath. Dealing with my best friend during game time felt like talking to a parent who was also the school principal.
I shut my locker and pulled on my gloves. “What’s up?”
“You got—” he paused, waiting for one guy to squeeze past us, “—the photos?”
I met his gaze with a frown. “Of course. I told you I would.”
