Page 141 of The Casanova Complex

I finally got the call I was waiting for.

Saint’s agent reached out to me toward the end of the season, and I signed with him. The team went on to lose in the second round of the NCAA regional tournament, and I was devastated.

We all were. It was over. My college career was done. Just like that, and not the way I wanted to go out. But we fought hard, and I’m proud of the way we represented OU. But for me, it hit even heavier. I was worried I wasn’t just saying goodbye to the Hellcats, but that I’d also played the last hockey game of my career.

I’d barely made it back to the hotel when my phone rang.

It was my agent, informing me I had two teams calling. I almost had a fucking heart attack. After that, everything was kind of a blur. The next thing I knew, I had an offer from Michigan. A two-year entry-level contract with their affiliate team. They wanted me to develop with them. Practice. Hopefully have some real time on the ice.

I report at the end of September for camp.

It feels surreal. Honestly just unfuckingbelievable. It probably won’t fully hit me until I step foot on the ice for the first time wearing a jersey that isn’t the Hellcats.

“There,” Merritt says, her voice filled with pride. “That is one cool-ass bowl.”

It’s a little… oddly shaped and has some rough edges, but look at what she was working with. My hands are meant to block pucks, not shape clay, so she did the best she could.

Plus, art is… subjective, right?

“It’s beautiful, baby,” I praise, and she beams, pulling her lip between her teeth. “You’re beautiful,” I add.

I’m soaking up these last few days before she starts law school at OU. I know her time will be limited, and we’ll have to get creative for a while about how to make our schedules work. We’ve talked about it a hundred times since I got signed.

And while we haven’t figured everything out just yet, I’m not worried.

We’ll make it work. Because for me… there isn’t a version of my dream that exists without Merritt. I’ll fly back and forth every day if that’s what it takes.

There’s no sacrifice that I wouldn’t make for her.

If she told me that she couldn’t do the distance and that she wanted me to find a job here… I’d walk away from the contract without a second glance.

But she’d never ask me to do that. She’s been the one who’s done nothing but support and encourage me to take this opportunity. Who always reminds me that nothing is out of reach when it comes to my dreams.

Merritt grabs the wire cutter from the tin of tools beside us and carefully cuts the bowl from the wheel and stands.

“I’m going to go put this up to dry, but I’ll be right back. The sink’s back there to wash your hands.” She gives me a quick kiss and heads to the other side of the studio.

I clean up while she’s wrapping the bowl, and then I lean against the front counter, waiting for her to finish up. There’s a text from Saint when I pull out my phone, and I click it open.

SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: Lennon booked you a flight in two weeks.

SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: We’re celebrating your contract

SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: Pack light.

My eyebrows shoot up.

The fuck?

I quickly tap out a response.

ME: Are you being held against your will rn? Send me an octopus if you’re in danger

SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: Shut the fuck up before I change my mind.

ME: Bestie, you’re taking me on a surprise guys trip?

SAINT BESTIE POOKIE: I fucking knew I shouldn’t have done this