“Not yet,” I tease. “Now, go get ’em, Honey.”
The look in his eye almost makes me feel bad for the Riggers.
Almost.
Chapter 29
Griffin
The Oil Riggers are an easy five games, and it’s on to the Aces, a tougher six-game punch-up that gets nasty in game six when they decide if they can’t win, they can at least make us remember them. The conference final is a close one, the Wolverines take us all the way to seven games, but we come out on top, with only one more hurdle to go, the Blizzard. The winningest team this season, with the highest-scoring offense. And the fuckers have home ice advantage.
But we attack hard, taking the first two on the Bliz home ice. Sure, we drop one back home, but now we’re on the cusp. One last game, three periods, against the Blizzard, and the cup will be ours.
We’re doing it. We actually might win this whole damn thing.
Hawks, Stanley Cup champions. Griffin Mahoney, Stanley Cup champion.
“Rawrrr! Let’s do this!” Brody roars, flexing his arms and posing.
“Put your jock on,” Howe tells him, covering his eyes like he hasn’t seen Brody’s dick dozens of times before.
Brody, being Brody, puts his hands behind his head and swirls his hips around, helicoptering his dick instead. “You know you like it,” he taunts.
Even Howe can’t resist laughing outright at Brody’s awful moves. “Careful, bro-man, or Dom’s sister’s gonna have you cheering with the dancers up there. Oh wait, maybe I should call herGriffin’s girlnow instead.”
That stops all dick talk and dancing instantly as all eyes turn to Dominic and me, waiting for our reaction. It’s been just over six weeks since everything blew up during the second game against the Torches. Things are technically still new between me and Penny, but honestly, it feels like I’m finally home. The invisible weight I’ve carried on my shoulders for years has fallen away, and I can be lighter, happier, even sillier, and those are three words that have never once been used to describe me. But now, with Penny’s influence, I’m growing and doing better. All thanks to her.
Well, not forcing down my feelings probably has a lot to do with it too. Now that everyone knows and has accepted it with less fanfare than I expected, the anger inside me has lessened measurably. At least off the ice. So far, I’m still hitting harder than a Mack truck on the ice.
“Guess we’ll have to see what sweater she’s wearing tonight, won’t we?” I quip, arching a brow and flashing a cocky smirk. Of course I already know what she’s wearing, because I saw her pack her suitcase for the trip to tonight’s game, and there wasn’t a single Lee jersey in sight. More importantly, she wore a Mahoney jersey last night while we had a double round of intense sex that was more than fucking, but a whole lot less tender than “making love.” In other words, just the way she likes it.
Seeing my name on her while she took my cock deep inside her did strange things to my brain, primal things I don’t want to examine too closely, but suffice it to say, it was sexy as hell, and I can’t wait to repeat that experience with a custom Stanley Cup champion jersey on her. And nothing else. Except maybe those knee-high socks? Those are hot as hell too.
Just the thought of it has my cock responding, and I have to adjust myself, which is no easy feat through the layers of gear I’m already wearing.
“Quit thinking about my sister,” Dominic orders, popping my cup with the tip of his stick.
It doesn’t hurt through the thick plastic, but it does send blood flow elsewhere. Namely, to my face, where I can feel a flush heating my cheeks. I’m not embarrassed by my thoughts of Penny, but ten minutes before the most important game of my life isn’t the best time to be fantasizing about your girlfriend.
Girlfriend? Yeah, Penny and I are moving fast. Hell, I already asked her to move into my condo, but she wants to finish out her lease with Talia, which means six more months of back-and-forth between her too-small bed and my king-size one. I’m also paying extra attention to the ring she’s designing for Miles Conniver. She’s making it specific to his fiancée’s taste, but I’m learning a lot about what Penny herself would want in a ring.
“Oooh, they’re fighting again!” Brody singsongs.
Coach pops his head out of the office. “Lee, Mahoney, do we need to have a chat?”
“No, sir,” I bark.
“If it’s about Brody getting traded to the Beavers next year, yes,” Dominic answers with a grin. Brody mimes stabbing himself in the heart, and Dom responds by drawing a tear falling down his cheek.
“Get ready, you bunch of assholes,” Coach calls out. The stress of tonight’s game is hitting him, and he’s done with our bullshit.
Penny keeps telling me that she believes in me, that this is the Hawks’ season to win the whole thing, while tempering it with reminders that I’m not retiring after this season and I’ll have another chance to win again, or win for the first time if tonight doesn’t go the way we hope. But for Coach? He’s nearing the end of his career, and this might be the last chance he gets to drink champagne out of the most special cup in hockey.
“Let’s do this for Coach,” I shout.
A chorus of “for Coach!” rings out through the locker room, and all conversation about me and Penny and Dominic is forgotten.
As soon as we take to the ice for warm-ups, I skate the wall in front of the section where Penny’s supposed to be sitting, looking for her. She’s a spectator tonight since the Blizzard’s cheerleaders are performing and the Hawkettes are scattered around the arena, supporting but not performing. As family, Penny and the Lees have prime seats only a few rows behind the bench. Dominic and I both made sure of that.
