Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Flying down the ice, we bowl our way past defense.
We’ve done this countless times tonight, only to be denied by the goalie. We need to mix it up.
Jacobs has been on my line since his freshman year. We’re closer than teammates. It’s as if we can read each other’s minds. He nods to me and then at Beck, who’s open.
I don’t hesitate.
They’re expecting me to pass back to Jacobs or Simms, my other winger, to attempt the same shot we’ve missed over and over.
So when I pass to Beck, a D-man, and he takes his shot, it sails right past the giant wall in front of the net.
I rush Beck and throw my arms around him along with the other guys on our line except for Jacobs who’s ready to get back into it.
Our job’s not done yet.
I glance up at the clock. Under two minutes left.
I really don’t want this to go into overtime.
This needs to end right now.
Play smart.
Play hard.
Pray like hell for a fluke.
At the face-off, my reflexes are fast. The whole play takes less than twenty seconds. I pass to Jacobs and skate around my opponent toward the net. Jacobs passes back, I shoot …
I have no idea where the puck is.
And then the lamp lights up.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
I fall to my knees, but Jacobs picks me back up.
“We’re still not done.”
I swear I hold my breath for the entire one minute and fifteen seconds left on the clock.
Only when we hear the buzzer signaling the end of the game do I suck in a gasp of air.
And for the first time tonight, I let myself glance in the direction of my family and Zach while my team celebrates around me.
Zach has his hands cupped around his mouth, screaming along with my brother who’s jumping up and down.
We lock eyes, and my boyfriend smiles. I bow as if I had the game in the bag the whole time.
He laughs and shakes his head at me.
Jacobs gets in my face. “We did it.”
“We fucking did it,” I scream back at him.
Winning the Frozen Four?
Just an everyday thing. No biggie.
Only the most surreal moment of my life.
Drinks flow at the hotel bar, and we’re all a little messy.
It was a long game and an even longer celebration, but when Zach looks at me with his sober green eyes while he bites his lip, I’m ready to call it a night.
I’m supposed to stay with the team, but screw having a roommate when my boyfriend is here.
I follow him into the elevator, and he hits the button for his floor.
I’m all hands as soon as the door closes, and Zach laughs.
I grab his ass and pull him against me.
He laughs more. “Hang on, big guy. We’re almost there.”
“Mm, I am a big guy. Your big guy. Big … everywhere.”
“Big also goes on the list of words that have no meaning anymore.”
“’Kay.” I kiss his neck, but I get the feeling I’m more into it than he is.
When the doors open again, I realize he’s got his arms around me but not in an affectionate way. More in a trying to hold me up kind of way.
“I’m good at walk. Feet move that way.” I point.
“Yes. You good at walk, caveman. Come on. We’re going to bed.”
“Damn right we are. I’m gonna love you so good.”
Zach bursts out laughing. “Sure you are.”
As soon as we reach the room and Zach puts me to bed, it’s lights out.
Literally.
I wake up to light streaming through the hotel curtains, still wearing my suit pants and shirt from last night, a killer headache, and my arm trapped beneath the most gorgeous guy I could ever ask for.
His dark hair is messy across his forehead, his high cheekbones prominent in this light.
I’m tempted to wake him by climbing on top of him—finishing what I couldn’t even start last night in my state of inebriation—but I need to feel human first.
I slip out of bed and take a quick shower, but when I get out, Zach’s standing in the middle of the hotel room, his eyes all squinty while he talks into his phone.
No wait, that’s my phone.
“He’s right here.” He hands it to me. “It’s your agent.”
“This is Foster.”
Zach smirks at me, probably because Seth always gives him shit for answering the phone the exact same way all the time.
“Great game last night,” Damon says.
“T-thank you.” Yeah, I still haven’t learned to talk to him without being awe-struck.
“I have some … news for you.”
“Should I be worried you didn’t say good or bad in front of that?”
“It’s all good. Relatively.”
I take a deep breath. “What is it?”
“The B’s are willing to send you to Providence.”
My heart sinks. The farm team. AHL. Better than nothing, but I’ve already had an offer from San Jose. Providence is closer, but San Jose is the NHL. It’s also on the other side of the country.