Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
I try to focus on anyone other than Hayes Van Doren, but my gaze is reluctantly drawn to him. Even with the helmet covering his head and face, I can still pick him out in the crowd of players.
He’s taller and broader in the shoulders than most of the others.
From across the sheet of ice, our gazes collide, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. Instead of glancing away, he smirks.
Ugh.
His ego is so massive, he probably thinks I’m here just for him.
It takes effort to sever the connection and turn my attention back to Britt, who loops her arm through mine. Like me, she’s new to this group of friends. The difference is that she’s with one of the hockey players, so she fits in perfectly. All of these girls are dating—or married to—guys on the team.
The only other girl not with one of the players is Holland. She’s Willow’s bestie and roommate. I’ve only met her a handful of times. What I’ve noticed is that she tends to hang back and feel out the situation before loosening up. She has a razor-sharp sense of humor and seems to detest hockey players in general. The only time she shows up for games is when Willow drags her along. And she certainly never parties with them afterward.
Then again, neither do I.
It’s only when Britt nudges me that I blink back to our conversation. “Where have you been hiding? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Funny she would say that. Britt has no idea how close she is to the truth.
I shrug, wanting to keep the convo light. “Just busy with classes. You know how it is.”
She nods. “It’s a juggling act, for sure.”
“How’s married life treating you?” I waggle my brows. “Still enjoying it?”
Her cheeks flush as a wide smile spreads across her face. “It’s pretty amazing. I couldn’t be happier.”
It still blows my mind that Britt and Colby secretly tied the knot in Vegas while there to celebrate the marriage of their friends, Wolf and Fallyn. From what I can tell, they’re head over heels in love with each other, and he treats her like a total queen. Honestly, all the guys are that way with their significant others. My guess is that these girls have snapped up all the good ones. I’ve spent enough time around hockey players to know that most of them are exactly that—players who enjoy all the perks that come along with being a high-profile athlete on campus.
My attention is once again ensnared by Hayes.
As much as I try not to stare, I just can’t seem to help myself.
He’s way too handsome for his own good.
Mine as well.
It would be for the best if he lost interest. Although, I’m sure it won’t be long before he moves on to the next warm body. I doubt he has much of an attention span.
The lights dim, and a voice booms through the arena, announcing the starting lineup. The energy in the place kicks up a notch as the Wildcats hit the ice to a chorus of cheers. Hayes is in the center of it all, probably eating up the adoration like sugary candy. This time, I do roll my eyes when a group of girls a few rows ahead scream his name, hoping to snag his attention.
He gives them exactly what they’re so desperate for. With a grin, he lifts his gloved hand to wave. He’s the epitome of cocky confidence.
Typical.
Finally, the coaching staff is introduced, and I whistle, cheering for my dad. He’s always been my rock, and as complicated as life has become, I realize how lucky I am to have parents who love me unconditionally. They’ve supported me through everything—even when I made the impossible choice to walk away from professional skating.
I tamp down the grief threatening to surface, refusing to let it in.
The puck drops, and the game explodes to a start in a frenzy of motion. Hockey is fast, aggressive, and chaotic. A well-oiled machine of players crashing into each other with precision. I remind myself to stay focused on the game, but my attention continually drifts to Hayes.
He’s all over the ice, involved in every play, moving with an ease and fluidity that’s mesmerizing. It’s hard not to notice how good he is, how he makes the toughest plays look effortless.
It doesn’t take long for him to rack up three goals, securing a hat trick. His teammates surround him, slapping his back and grinning through their visors.
When he looks up, our eyes lock, and my pulse stutters.
Damn him.
I tear my gaze away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of thinking I’m impressed by his talent.
As I force myself to scan the packed stands across the ice, unease settles in my stomach. There, in the sea of fans, is a man in a black hoodie, his face obscured. My breath catches, the air freezing in my lungs.