“Cos!” I call as one of his players shoves me from the side, sending me flying. I land on my side, and a second later, the player who shoved me lands beside me, and Reid is there looking proud as fucking punch.
Cosmo is waving away the fuss and comes right over and holds out a hand. At first, I think it’s for his own player who’s grumbling but getting to his skates.
“I’m good, brother,” he tells me, and I grab his hand as he helps me up, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to the sounds of the deafening cheers and boos of the crowd. “Get ready to tie things up,” he laughs, and then I hear the call.
“Two minutes for high-sticking.”
Fuck, looks like I’m finishing this game in the sin bin.
I give Cosmo a playful jab before heading over to the box. Reid thankfully avoids a penalty for sending their player onto his ass after they shoved me, but unfortunately, so does that dickhead, so we’re going to be down a player for the last one minute and forty-three seconds of the game. Shit. They better not score.
I watch as the guys fight to hold onto our lead because of my mistake. Boston double-teams White, making it impossible to get the puck to him, but Reid is more than a D-man; he’s got moves these guys have never seen, and it’s those moves he draws on to fake out Cosmo and send the puck screaming up to the other end. It’s caught by their goalie, but Reid is already almost there, ready to intercept if they try to send it down to Cosmo.
I scan the crowd and spot David and Benji yelling from their up-front seats to their brother. They still wear both our numbers, usually swapping each game to “share the love,” as Benji puts it.
There’s an audible gasp, and I frantically scan for Reid. My pulse doubles its pace, and then I spot him. He’s totally fine—better thanfine. He’s got the puck, and he’s on a breakaway. Cosmo is on his knees behind him, hitting his glove against the ice before climbing to his skates and coming after Reid.
I’m on my feet with half the crowd. White is trying to position himself to get a pass if Reid needs it, but they’re tight on him, blocking any chance of that happening. Kirkston is moving up on Reid’s left, but he won’t need him. He gets close enough and takes his shot. The lamp lights up, and we’re on a two-to-one lead.
“Take that, Boston,” I yell as White and Kirkston slam into Reid, celebrating the goal they scored without me. I catch the coach’s harsh glare, and I sit back down. There’s still a minute on the penalty, and anything can happen when you’re a man down. He calls a line change, and they set up for the face-off.
“Let’s goooo!” I cheer as the clock ticks down. I’m on the edge of my seat for every slow second that passes, and when the final buzzer sounds, I leap from the box and make a beeline for Reid.
“Thanks for saving my ass out here,” I say, and he swings his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side.
“No problem, rookie. That’s what us D-men are good for.”
“You’re good for more than that,” I say, and he squeezes me to him tighter for a second, leaning in close.
“You can tell me more about that later back at my place,” he says, and I glance to the side and find his gloved hand over where the mic pack is sewn into my shoulder pads.
I shake my head.
“I got the keys to my place yesterday, and they delivered my mattress this morning.”
“See you there at six.”
Chapter thirty
Reid
“Cosmo!”Lukayells,wavinghim and his partner over just as I place a pitcher of beer and one of lemonade plus six glasses on the table. My brothers are over at the pool table playing another round in their never-ending battle. They keep changing the rules. Now they’re at best out of two hundred and twelve, I think. Did I have that much time on my hands when I was their age?
Cosmo practically launches himself at Luka when he gets to the table, but it doesn’t seem to bother his partner who just smiles softy at their embrace. I’m not convinced I’ll get on with Cosmo like Luka thinks. We haven’t really met properly until now. We’ve been up against each other in games, and I’ve heard Luka talk about him, a lot, but this is our first time meeting for real.
“This is Reid,” Luka says, gesturing to me on his right, and I stand to shake Cosmo’s hand. “This is my best friend, Cosmo, and hisboyfriend—I mean fiancé, Eli. Sorry, still getting used to that,” Luka says, and Eli blushes a warm pink.
“It’s okay,” he replies, shaking my hand next. “I’m still getting used to it too.”
Luka is fidgeting with his hands and looks really worried, though I’m not sure why. It’s not like I’m going to go all caveman on his best friend just because he used to have a thing for him. Was it even really a thing? He says that looking back, he likes to remember that time of his life as his awakening. Like he needed to connect with Cosmo to know what friendship really was, and when he met me, he finally knew what love was. The light up your insides, have to be near them, touch them, kiss them, refuse to shower right away just so you can smell them on you kind of love. Yeah, I have that too, and I’m never letting it go.
“You played pretty well last game,” I say in my lame attempt at a compliment.
Luka shakes his head and takes a seat.
“Your second-period goal was unreal. That New York defender was right beside you and then in like a second he was four lengths back and you were firing off a slap shot to take the lead,” Luka says, and Cosmo smiles.
“Nothing compared to you, Mr. Trick Play,” he laughs, and Luka’s face takes on a warm glow at the nickname that’s decided to really stick.
