“There’s not, and I love it,” I cut in, finally finding my voice. “Thank you.”
He shrugs and sinks back into his corner of the couch. “Like I said, just something small.”
I don’t think. I just move.
Crawling, I cross the cushion between us until I can wrap my arms around his neck. It should be the world’s most awkward hug, but it isn’t. Not even a little bit. He turns into me, and his arms come around my back. I breathe him in. He smells of pine needles and peppermint.
“Seriously,” I say near his ear. “I love it.”
His arms tighten just a fraction. “You’re welcome,” he rumbles, and I go warm all over.
Maybe this Christmas isn’t the worst, after all.
I ease back, but instead of retreating to my corner, I drop onto the cushion next to his.
Somewhere between the leg lamp and the pink bunny suit, we both move closer. His arm drapes along the back of the couch. My shoulder tucks into his side.
We stay that way for the rest of the movie.
Neither of us moves, like the smallest shift might tip us into something we can’t take back.
I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything.
But even I know it’s a lie.
FIFTEEN
“That’swhat I’m talking about!” Helm shouts, still dripping with sweat as he slaps Fox on the back. “Nine in a row, baby!”
Nine straight wins since Christmas. We’re on a three-week run. Home games, road games, against teams at the top of the standings and the bottom—we’ve taken them all. A streak like this hasn’t happened in three years.
My first year with the team, we were on fire. The year after, I became captain, and we were able to keep the momentum going. But the last three have been tough.
Three years of grinding. Of watching other teams celebrate while we packed up our gear in April with nothing to show for it.
And now? I’m playing the best hockey of my career. We’re fifth in our division, only three points out of a playoff spot with plenty of the season left.
Fox grins, working the laces on his skates loose. “Keep this up and we’re drinking out of a big silver cup this summer.”
“You don’t even drink,” Logan reminds him.
“If you don’t think I’m gonna drink fucking apple juice out of that thing, you’re mistaken.”
Volk shakes his head, sitting in his stall and peeling off his pads without a word. But there’s something different in his expression, too. Pride, maybe. Or relief.
“Don’t jinx it,” I warn, but I can’t keep from smiling. I drop onto the bench and start tearing off my gear.
“Anyone wanna grab a late lunch and a drink?” Helm asks the room.
I wave him off, but two of the younger guys, plus Logan and Fox, agree.
Today’s afternoon home game means I’m showered and dressed by four, heading out of the arena while the sun’s still up.
Summer’s at the studio. Boone can’t even give her Sundays, of all days, off. And I thought my schedule was brutal.
I’ve started timing my days around hers. I grab my coffee earlier than I need to, just to see her before she leaves. And when I’m home at night, I cook dinner, so I have a reason to sit across from her and eat.
I can’t get enough of her. Her smile alone has the ability to turn my whole day around.
