“GRACIE.”
My brows lift when I see who just shuffled into the box beside me.
“Cole,” I squeal, sliding my arms around his neck as I drag him into a hug. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Not after we hung out yesterday.”
He grins—women around the continental US have creamed their panties to that grin because last year, he appeared, nationwide, on buses advertising a pair of boxer briefs.
Doesn’t matter that he dresses like a clown the rest of the year, Cole’s got a crew of ladies who lurve him now.
Even I was surprised by what he was packing, but that grin does nothing for me. My ovaries are one and done thanks to the ‘Donnghal Effect.’
“What are you doing here anyway?” I demand, looping my arm through his then shooting an apologetic smile at Lacey, who’s been my neighbor in the family box ever since our first heart-to-heart, for almost elbowing her in the process.
“I got blown off by Kara Kingsley so I figured I’d—”
My eyes flare. “KARA? As in, Liam’s publicist?”
He shrugs. “You seen her ass?”
“I have no interest in her ass.”
“You’re missing out. It’s banging.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I drawl with a chuckle as I take in what he considers date-night attire—a lime-green turtleneck with black jeans and purple leather loafers. It’s a good thing he’s hot is all I’m saying. “You break her heart and I’ll break yours. I need her working at full speed for Liam.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s difficult.”
“The kidnapping?” he asks, his gaze locked on the ice when the puck drops and Liam immediately snatches possession.
“What else? He doesn’t like going out anymore.”
“Makes PR awkward.”
“You think? Understatement. Still, if you did date Kara, maybe she’d teach you how to dress.”
“My wardrobe is offended but I’ll rise above your mean girl comment.” At my snort, he grins but it fades as he asks, “So, things are still bad with Liam? He seemed brighter yesterday.”
“Aside from never leaving his place without a security detail, he goes home, to the stadium, and then to a private ice rink in Jersey.”
“In West Orange?”
“Yup.”
“Told him about that one.” He whistles again. “They have some figure skaters that practice there—”
“Lemme guess—they’ve got banging asses?”
“You know it.”
“I don’t actually but I know your type. Butts as big as the Michelin Man’s.”
“Don’t yuck my yum,” he grumbles, making me roll my eyes. “Liam either cancels or says he can’t make it whenever I invite him out.” He arches a brow at me. “Either we’ve got a problem and he isn’t sharing it with the class, which I doubt because we banter like fuck on our group chat and he’s yet to kick me out of his apartment whenever I visit, or… he’s agoraphobic.”
“Like I said. Unless it’s work-related, he rarely leaves his building. He can, but he prefers to be at home.”
“That’s…”
“Worrying? I know. But he’s seeing someone about it. What else can I do apart from have his back?”
Cole nuzzles the crown of my head with his chin. “That’s exactly what he needs.
“Anyway, look at you wearing his number. Soooo cute,” he jokes as he retreats solely so he can tug on my pendant.
My nose crinkles and I whack his hand. “Shut up.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t put you in his jersey,” he says pleasantly.
Color blossoms on my cheeks.
I shove him in the side with enough force to wind him. When he starts coughing, I know I distracted him so I slide in with, “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have brought you pierogi.”
His eyes immediately light up.
Any thoughts of Liam and my necklace are forgotten as he whines, “Shit. I haven’t had any in ages.”
I tut. “I can rectify that.”
“You’re willing to be my pierogi dealer?”
“You bet.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he warns.
I snort. “You can. Anyway, how come you’re here? Recon?”
“And I didn’t even get my ass kicked,” he mutters.
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Anyway, not here for recon. This was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Kara gave me her tickets.”
“Thought you’d have brought someone else. Ya know… with a phat ass.”
“I’ve got some class.”
“Just not a lot of it,” I mock.
“Ouch.”
“My sting is still sharp.”
“Hell, these Sting Rays wish they were as sharp as your tongue.”
Because Trent plays for them, I have to smirk. “He’s lagging behind tonight,” I muse as I watch the lackluster effort from the away team.
“The joys of getting old.”
I snort. “I’m not the only one with a sting.”
“I learned it from the best.”
“You sure did.”
“Too many men on the ice,” I state, just waiting for the ref to call it.
“Man, Järvinen was slow to react.”
“They’re all slow.”
Cole taps his nose. “It was Järvinen’s thirtieth last night.”
“And they went out and partied? In fact, you don’t need to answer that. I can tell. Considering the Stars are hot shit this season, they were dumb not to bring their A-game.”
He hums his agreement.
Resting my head on his arm because his shoulder is way too high up for my short ass, I admit, “Liam’s more alone than you think. Even before we became a thing, Kow never came and saw him, barely called him either. The big jerk.”
At least Cole keeps on trying and does visit—Kow, the so-called ‘best friend,’ hasn’t done either!
When the forward high-sticks Raimond and manages to get away with it, I screech, “YOU BLIND OR SOMETHING, REF? GET SOME NEW GLASSES.”
Because Cole has to be a good boy and can’t show any support for the Stars, he stays silent but I just know he’s biting his tongue.
His voice is crazy calm when he asks, “You and Kow still grind each other’s gears, huh?”
“Haven’t even seen Kow in person for years and he always manages to infuriate the hell out of me. I think it’s one of his gifts.”
“You haven’t forgiven him yet?” he asks, watching as Liam intercepts a snap shot from Gagné and he slaloms down the ice before passing it to Kerrigan.
“For being an asshole?”
“Nah. I’m talking about what preempted the ‘green dye affair.’”
“That was about Charlotte.”
“Huh. That cock hungry chick who you hung out with?”
I gape at him. “She came onto you too?!”
He shrugs. “Can you blame her?”
I shove him in the side. “That bitch.” Then, huffing, I murmur, “Kow’s pissed me off since then, trust me.” Though I haven’t forgiven him.
Never let it be said that I can’t hold on to my grudges.
“I didn’t realize that whole mess was about her. Kow didn’t know her name and Liam wouldn’t say.”
“He wouldn’t?” I frown as I think back to that game where I turned them both green. “I wonder why.” When the San Jose left defenseman shoves Lewis into the boards, I shriek, “REF! I hate this fucking guy. How the hell he got into the NHL is beyond me.”
Gaze locked on the puck, he grunts. “Liam was furious with Kow, you know? After you transmogrified them into four-leaf clovers, I mean. Didn’t speak to him for months.”
“I knew I was right to like him,” I drawl, but I appreciate him telling me that.
Liam had my back long before I even knew it.
I hiss when Greco barely manages to deflect the puck via a wrist shot from Trent.
Cole chuckles. “Ms. Hard Ass.”
I shoot him a cocky smile.
A smile that gets even cockier when Liam scores the first goal against my brother’s team.
Until, that is, the defenseman shadowing Liam takes him out with his knee, hard enough that Lewis has to help him up.
That asswipe skates over to the sin bin but his smug face needs a meeting with my fist.
“Kosinski’s got an attitude bigger than Texas,” Cole grates out as we both watch Liam settle heavily on the bench before, a few minutes later, he’s led down the tunnel.
A sight that has my heart sinking.
It’s always tough watching him get hurt. You think I’d get used to it with all the games I’ve watched, but I never have.
Ten minutes later, he’s back, but Bradley keeps him there.
Knowing the coach is an idiot, it doesn’t fill me with much relief.
After the Sting Rays manage to level the playing field, I see some Stars’ fans start to get up and leave their seats now that Liam’s not on the ice and the other team has scored.
I know that shit affects players’ morale, but it’s not like I can do anything other than grumble, “Fucking traitors.”
Cole, seeing what I’m seeing, shrugs. “Always the way with a new team. You haven’t got the tried-and-true fans yet. And the Liberties were so godawful that not even the governor supported them.”
Though I snicker at that, I still glower until we reach overtime.
Which is when Bradley lets Liam back on the ice.
I can see his energy is high, but I’m still concerned as every collision hits differently, especially when—
“He’ll burn out fast if he keeps this up.”
“Yeah, he’s pushing too hard.” I bite my lip. “Come on, come on.”
That’s when the magic starts to happen.
San Jose knows Liam’s dangerous so they buzz around him like flies on a rotting corpse. Kosinski and Trent don’t give him any rest, skating so close that they might as well be in his pants.
“About time,” I yell with the rest of the fans as the ref calls on Trent when he shoves his stick in front of Liam, practically feeding it to his skates so Liam trips and falls.
“Man, was he behind on that call,” Cole mumbles, but he starts clapping along with the rest of the stadium when Liam’s left alone on center ice.
“Come on, Liam!” I yell, tacking on, “Serves those fuckers right for leaving early,” because I know exactly what’ll happen now that all eyes are on him.
With a couple of bounces, Liam takes it lazily slow, coming in super close to the net then whipping it to the back, slinking under the goalie’s glove hand, scoring his second goal and giving the Stars a 2-1 lead, which ends up being the winning goal and another W for NY.
I pump the air with my fist and, ignoring Cole’s scowl, I forcibly embrace him as if I’m the one who did the heavy lifting in the game.
“What about Trent?” he demands with a smirk.
“I’ll deal with him later,” I growl.
