More importantly, we won 3-0. The Bolts’ offense was on fire, working together so seamlessly it felt like the season hadn’t just started. And the defense rarely allowed New York to get anywhere near the net. But the few times someone slipped through, I blocked the shot with no problem. I was in the zone; loose and prepared.
And we dominated.
“You don’t have anything to say to that?” The reporter scans the room, laughing like he’s proud of himself.
I tilt my head, expression flat. “I didn’t hear a question.”
“Well,” he stutters, his expression going sour, “what are the chances you can do that again?”
There’s no point tempering my smirk. “Considering I pulled it off through an entire Olympic series, I’d say chances aren’t horrible.”
Sara beams. Gavin closes his eyes, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles, and a few of the female members of the press laugh.
“Obviously, being a woman makes this job a bit harder,” the man follows up, clearly digging in.
“Well, there are thirty-two teams in the NHL and two to three goaltenders per team, and like you’ve pointed out, I’m the only female, so I guess you’d have to ask the other eighty or ninety goaltendersin the league if they think that because I’m a woman, my job was harder than theirs tonight.”
He frowns. “That’s not—” He shakes his head, his face turning red.
With a hand out, motioning to his chair, I say, “You can sit now.” When he drops into his seat, I smile at him. “Good boy. Who’s next?”
JJ chuckles loud enough to be heard from the back of the room, threatening to crack my composure. It takes effort, and I have to hold my lips together to keep from giggling, but I manage.
“Congratulations,” a female reporter says, taking the proffered mic. “I’m Lizzie Stevens, Channel Ten, and I think I speak for every woman to ever play hockey when I say it’s about damn time.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. “Thank you, Lizzie.”
“It’s a big night. Are you going anywhere special to celebrate?”
My eyes find JJ’s in the back of the room again and I grin. “Yeah. You could say I have a little tradition to uphold tonight.”
“And what is that tradition?”
I stand a little taller and focus on her again. “Greasy pizza with my best friend.”
THIRTY-NINE
ADDIE
“Daddy.”The tiny voice sounds awfully loud this morning. But not as loud as the knock that follows.
“Shit,” I hiss, ducking under the covers.
JJ pulls me back up and presses a kiss to my shoulder. Then he bounces out of bed with far too much energy. I’m sore from the game and exhausted from staying up far too late after we ate pizza with Avery—it was fun including her in on our tradition even if it was way past her bedtime—and plain worn out after lots of delicious sex. I should have snuck back to my bedroom. I still could.
I eye the door, gauging how long it would take me to get to the bathroom before?—
“Addie,” Avery squeals, darting for the bed.
Looks like it’s too late to escape now.
“Did you sleep with Daddy so he wasn’t lonely?”
“Nah, she was the lonely one,” JJ teases, plopping down beside her.
Her pajamas are light blue with yellow ducks on them and her blond curls are a beautiful mess.
Her little face scrunches in concern. “Do you have to go to skate soon?”
