“That would require us to be in public, but when we do, we will absolutely be those people and I’m okay with it.”
“Good.” I kiss her again, because I can. “Now, time for you to show me up with another song.”
She slides down me, and I hate the loss of her warmth. “I don’t know if I can live up to your performance, but I’ll try.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you back once we’re on the ice together.”
She winks at me. “I have no doubt you will.”
Damn. I cannot wait to get this woman into a pair of skates.
Chapter Twenty-One
JASPER
The horn sounds with another Dallas goal. Fuck me. The home crowd goes nuts.
It’s now 3-0 in the middle of the third period. Dallas isn’t the best team by any means, but tonight we’re making them look like the Stanley Cup champions.
I don’t know what it is, but we can’t seem to get our shit together. We’re not playing our best and the goals we’ve let in prove that.
“Fuck.” I slam my stick against the boards.
“All right. Heads in the game. We’re still in this. Let’s get back out there and get some points on the board.”
Coach Andrews is nothing but positive behind the bench. Clapping me and Noah on the shoulder, he sends us out onto the ice for our shift.
Dallas swarms us immediately as we try to take back control of the game. We don’t have much to show for it as we move around the ice trying to put the puck in the net. One of our wingers gets a shot, but to no avail.
“Damn it,” I mutter, trying to chase down their center to prevent another scoring opportunity. They take a long shot on goal, but thankfully, it goes right into the glove of our goalie.
Thank God. Four goals would be near impossible to come back from. Hitting the bench, I swig some water as Marcus and Bode head out onto the ice. Marcus is able to get us on the board and give us a little momentum.
When it’s my shift again, I hop over the boards and call for the puck. It gets sent over, right into the cradle of my stick. I don’t need any fancy moves as I move down the ice.
I’ve got good luck watching me from home.
Our center is waiting at the top of the crease, and before I can get the puck off, one of their defensemen comes out of nowhere, checking me into the boards.
A nasty crunch sounds from my shoulder.
“Fuck!”
I collapse onto the ice, grabbing my shoulder to try and stave off the pain. A wave of nausea rolls through me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The whistle blows and the guys swarm around me.
“Are you okay?” Noah asks.
“Fuck, no,” I bite out.
“Is it your shoulder?”
I nod. “It fucking hurts.”
“Can you stand up?” Noah asks.
