“Good.” He grins against my lips. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”
34
RODRIGUEZ
Mid-April - Calgary
Morning skate is routine.Same drills we’ve run a thousand times, same warm-up, same pre-game rhythm that’s become second nature after years in the league.
But today feels different.
Maybe it’s because we’re fighting for playoff position with only ten games left in the regular season. Maybe it’s because Calgary’s tough on their home ice and we need this win to stay in third place.
Or maybe it’s because Juliette’s here, traveling with us for the first time, sitting in the hotel having breakfast with the other WAGs while we run drills. Her first road trip. First time she’ll watch me play in another team’s arena.
First time I have to deliver on that insane bet we made after Toronto.
The thought makes my stick wobble on what should be an easy pass. The puck slides wide of Dex and hits the boards with a hollow thunk.
“You good?” Dex glides over, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah. Fine.”
I’m not fine. My hands feel disconnected from my brain, like someone else is controlling them. Every time I think about tonight—about her in the stands wearing my jersey, about what happens after for every goal I score—my concentration shatters.
Focus. I need to focus.
Barrett blows his whistle sharp enough to make my teeth hurt. “Rodriguez! You planning on showing up tonight or should I bench you now?”
“I’m here, Coach.”
“Then act like it.”
The reprimand burns in my chest and I run the next drill clean, pushing everything else to that compartment in my brain marked ‘deal with later.’ The passes get crisper. My legs remember what they’re supposed to do.
There’ll be time for everything else after we win.
After morning skate,we head back to the hotel for team lunch and naps. The usual pre-game routine that’s supposed to be calming.
I find Juliette in the hallway outside our room, leaning against the wall scrolling through her phone. She’s wearing jeans and my white away jersey with RODRIGUEZ across the back in blue letters, and the sight of my name on her shoulders makes something possessive and hungry wake up in my chest.
“Hey,” she says when she sees me, tucking her phone away.
“Hey yourself.”
I cage her against the wall with my arms, not caring that Anderson’s walking past with his eyebrows raised or that Dex is definitely taking a photo from down the hall.
“You ready for tonight?” I ask.
“I’m just watching. You’re the one who has to play.”
“I’m very motivated to play well tonight.”
She bites that spot on her lower lip that drives me crazy, and I know she’s thinking about what each goal means. “Don’t think about that now. You need to focus on the game.”
“I am focused on the game.” I lean down until my mouth brushes her ear, feel her shiver. “Every goal tonight is for you.”
The tiny catch in her breathing makes me want to skip the game entirely.
