Logan: We can’t talk about the fight without mentioning Wilson. Seattle dropped him at the end of his contract.
Levi: He’s been a free agent for months, and yet no one has claimed him.
Logan: It’s looking like he might be out of the game for good.
Levi: Nah. He could always go play for a team in Europe.
Logan: Or a beer league.
Levi: I could use a beer right about now.
Logan: Okay. Let’s talk top three beers.
Levi: Like our favorite brands?
Logan: No. Like the best memories or times to drink a beer. For example, I love nothing more than that first beer after a win.
Levi: Oh. Fuck yeah. That beer tastes amazing. So does shower beer after a bag skate.
Logan: For sure. Beer in a hot tub after a day of skiing.
Levi: Beer after a play-off win.
Logan: Hopefully I’ll get to experience that one soon because my team’s going to the play-offs, baby!
Levi: Yes, you may have mentioned it once or twice. And congratulations to your team for making it to the play-offs.
Logan: Thanks. The PWHL works a little differently than the NHL when it comes to our cup.
Levi: Do you want to explain what that looks like? For any fans who are new to the PWHL?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
April
Frasier and I held hands as we headed down the hallway of the Huxley Grand LA. The Hawks were throwing a party to celebrate the end of the regular season, and I was looking forward to spending time with all our friends before the play-offs took over everyone’s lives.
We stopped just before the closed doors to the ballroom, and I could already hear music and conversation from the other side. Frasier raised my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist. I shivered from the contact and the way he was looking at me.
“Angel, you look beautiful.”
Georgia had recently suggested shopping for maternity clothes, and she’d helped me pick out this gorgeous dress. It was pastel, and something about the pattern reminded me of butterflies. It was comfortable but also sexy, showing off my growing baby bump. Judging from the way Frasier kept looking at me—touching me—he was a fan.
I looped my arms around his neck, and his hands naturally dropped to my waist as if they were made to fit there. I pressed up on my toes, and he leaned forward, our mouths meeting for a kiss.
I kissed him again, short and sweet. “I love you, and I’m so proud of you.”
For the way he’d played this season. But even more than that, I was so impressed by the work he and Carson were doing in partnership with the league to train others to be upstanders. They’d received so many wonderful messages from the next generation of players—and their parents—thanking them for their leadership.
“Love you, angel.” He pressed a kiss to the spot behind my ear.I want you.
I nodded emphatically, my pulse quickening. I wanted him too.
“Maybe we should just skip the party and get a room upstairs,” he rasped, eyes darkening.
“Tempting,” I said, even though he’d already made me come twice this morning before we’d left the house.
The man was determined to spoil me—with orgasms, back rubs, you name it. Anytime I even mentioned a pregnancy craving, he was on it. I felt his love for me and the baby in every single thing he did.
