Both teams trade chances, then goals. One each, fast and hard. The score’s tied going into the third period and my father’s on edge, his eyes flicking to the board every thirty seconds, like he can will it into our favor.
The third period starts mean and tense, both teams skating like the next mistake could cost them the game. Each hit gets harder, tempers shorter. Morrison’s in the penalty box after hooking a Chicago forward to stop a break. Chicago goes on a power play, my father practically pressing against the glass. Callum makes a save and I pump my fist in the air as my father sits back, faking confidence.
“Good save.” He props his foot up on his knee, relaxed.
“Great save.”
Three minutes left in the period and the score’s still 1-1. Bennett’s locked in, planted at the top of the crease. Chicago hacks at him, but he doesn’t budge. Just takes the hits, absorbing them. Waiting for his break. Weston winds up from the point and rips a shot through traffic, hard and low. Bennett angles his blade, tipping on instinct, and the puck skips into the net.
Goal.
I’m on my feet with the crowd, hands in the air. Bennett spins and locks his eyes on mine through the glass.
My heart kicks up, knees weak as I subconsciously lean forward. As if I could reach out and touch him.
He holds my gaze and my mind flips to the realization.
He didn’t score that one for the team at all.
He scored it for me.
I’m already moving, slipping out of the row, heart in my throat. Heading toward the tunnel before I can stop myself.
CHAPTER 30
BENNETT
Iscore the game-winning goal and all I care about is her.
My gaze snaps to the glass and she’s there. Arms in the air, cheering like she’s one of the fans. Hair still perfect, badge around her neck. Every inch the composed, untouchable Tori Prince.
Except her eyes are bright and fixed on mine. And she’s smiling that smile.
The perfect tilt to her head, a slight tip that only I recognize.
My world goes quiet for one second.
Then she’s gone before the horn fades.
I’m halfway through the tunnel when I see her—up against the wall, phone in hand, badge around her neck.
Acting normal, like she’s supposed to be here.
Because she is.
She should be here, with me.
Fuck boundaries.
Everything about us feels right and I don’t give a damn what people think.
Hopped up on adrenaline, I brush past her. Close enough to catch her perfume, the rosy glow on her cheeks.
“Later, Sunshine,” I murmur, my voice low in the busy corridor.
Her eyes flick to mine, wide and shiny, those perfect scarlet lips tipping up slightly. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even nod. But I know I’ll see her tonight.
I hit the locker room with the rest of the guys, fueled by the win. Music blares from someone’s portable speaker and everyone’s celebrating, high-fiving and rehashing the key plays.
