My pulse races as we walk down the tunnel. With every step the noise of the crowd gets louder. I hold my stick horizontally across my body, twirling it to release some of my nerves.
I let out a breath, roll my shoulders, and force my mind to focus. My eyes are locked on my teammate Declan in front of me. His broad back covered with the green jersey we all wear blocks me from seeing anything else, but when the first guys’ skates touch the ice, I know it. The roar inside the arena vibrates inside of me.
One by one, we take the ice for the first home game of the season. The buzz of excitement in the arena is electric. The night is ours and this moment is magic.
Fans have waited months for this. We’ve waited months for this. There is no better high than gliding around the rink while thousands of people jump to their feet and cheer. They need us to put on a show, but I don’t think they realize how much we need them too. The music is loud, the announcer louder, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest, nearly drowning out everything else.
When it’s finally my turn and my right skate touches the ice, I push out everything except the quiet sound of my skates gliding over the smooth surface of the ice. Fresh ice. There’s nothing better. It has this smell that I’ve never been able to describe, but I breathe it in with a huge smile. It smells like home.
Muscle memory sends me through my usual routine, skating around half the arena, finding a puck, and then firing it at the net before I skate back to center ice.
Slowly, everything else comes back into focus. My buddy and teammate, Leo Lohan, waits for me to stop beside him. His eyes scan the arena like he’s taking it all in for the first time. He’s been like this a lot lately—more aware, more in tune with everything.
“Have you ever seen this place so packed?” he asks, finally tearing his gaze away and looking at me. His eyes are wide with a wonder that has me smiling at him.
“First home game of the season is always like this,” I tell him. “But damn, it never gets old.”
“It feels different this year.”
“Would that have anything to do with the little guy sleeping in your wife’s arms?” Lifting my stick slightly, I aim it at Scarlett making her way down the steps of the packed arena with baby Callum.
Leo’s face lights up when he spots them, and he automatically starts moving toward them. I go with him. The little guy is cute as hell. Scarlett holds up Callum when we get close, showing off his Wildcat shirt, then turns him so we can see it has Lohan on the back. Baby’s first jersey for his first NHL game.
I know everyone says babies are all screaming, crying, pooping life-ruiners, but Callum is chill. He sleeps about ninety-five percent of the time, at least when I’ve seen him.
“How’s he doing with all the noise?” Leo asks even though the kid is wearing ear protection that looks like fuzzy, baby earmuffs.
She cradles him back in her arms. “Good. I’m going to take him up to the suite where it’s quieter and he can play with the other babies, but we wanted to say hi first.”
Leo places his gloved hand up to the plexiglass. I swear Callum tries to move his chubby little fist to meet it.
“Hey, Ash,” Scarlett says to me as her husband coos at their baby.
I nod toward Callum. “The little guy just needs some pads and a stick. I bet Coach Miller would make a spot for him.”
She smiles, expression soft even as she speaks with sass. “Don’t give them any ideas. They’re already talking about getting him in skates as soon as he can stand.”
Chuckling, I tap the glass like I’m offering Callum a fist bump, then I skate off to give them some time together, just the three of them.
It’s crazy watching Leo become a husband and father. It suits him though. Never seen him happier.
Stopping at the blue line, I drop to my knees and stretch. Just like every other part of the warmup, I have a routine here. I go through a series of stretches to loosen up, singing along with the music pumping through the arena. I have the best job ever in the best city ever. I don’t take even a single second for granted.
My teammates are all going through their own routines. Some of the guys like to focus only on warming up, others like to interact with the fans. More than a couple of guys are over by the glass to talk to their girls or families. The last two years, I’ve seen a lot of my teammates settle down. Married, kids, the whole shebang.
I scan the crowd. It really doesn’t get old no matter how many games I play in this arena. It’s still a trip every time I see someone wearing a jersey with KELLY across the back. A couple of girls holding a big glittery sign are waving at me. When I give them my attention, they hold the sign higher. Hey, #53. Put it in my five-hole!
Damn. I chuckle and wave at them, then keep scanning. A couple of kids have much tamer signs asking for pucks or sticks.
When I’m finished stretching, I skate over to the bench to get a marker, sign my stick, and then head over to one of the kids. A little girl with big brown eyes stands next to the glass with two other people who I assume are her dad and brother. She’s wearing a Wildcat jersey and her hair is in braids. She bounces in place as I stop directly in front of her.
“I like your jersey,” I tell her, then nod at her dad and smile at her brother. He looks to be about fourteen or so. He gives me a chin tip.
“They didn’t have any of yours, so I had to get this one.” She turns to show me our captain Jack’s last name and number. He’s easily the most popular guy on the team, but her lip curls like she’s really put out having to wear his jersey instead of mine.
“Jack’s a great hockey player and captain. Hel—” I catch myself before I swear in front of her. “Heck of a guy too.”
I hand my stick over the top of the glass. Her dad takes it and presents it to her. Her face lights up when her small hands wrap around the carbon fiber shaft. She gives her dad something and then he motions with his hand to indicate he’s going to throw it over. It takes two tries, but when I catch the item, a big smile stretches over my face. The little girl made me a friendship bracelet. Green and white beads surround my name and number. It’s small, obviously made for her tiny wrist.
I close my fingers around the adorable gift. “Thank you. I love it.”
Her smile grows a little shy. With one last wave, I head back to the bench to drop off my bracelet and the sharpie.
Lewis, one of our equipment managers, hands me a new stick.
“Thanks,” I say. “Can you hold on to this for me?”
I drop the bracelet in his hand. With a grin, he nods. “Sure thing.”
I start to skate off, then pause. “Can you get me an extra jersey?”
“Of course, no problem.” His eyes drop to take in the one I’m wearing. “Something wrong?”
“Nah. Just want to give it to a kid that couldn’t get one of mine from the gift shop.”
He nods in understanding. “Stop being so popular, Kelly.”
“Yeah, right. That store is basically a shrine to Jack.”
Lewis laughs it off, but he knows I’m not wrong.
I pull off my jersey, then run a hand through my hair to get it out of my face. Feminine squeals catch me off guard. Mr. Popular himself comes to a stop next to me.
“Seriously, Kelly?” Jack shakes his head. His slicked black hair doesn’t budge. “Ten minutes into the season and you’re already taking your shirt off for the ladies?”
“Shut the fuck up.” I set my jersey on the top of the half-wall in front of the bench and scribble my name. “It’s for a little girl. She gave me a friendship bracelet.”
He quirks a brow. “A friendship bracelet?”
“Yep. I’m her favorite.”
“One out of twenty thousand isn’t so bad, Kelly.”
Fucker. I leave him to skate back over to the girl. She’s surprised to see me, but as soon as she realizes I’m giving her my jersey, she starts bouncing in place again.
Her dad thanks me about a dozen times, but her excitement is all I need. I’d play hockey for free with no one watching, but damn if this isn’t so much better.
“Enjoy the game,” I tell them.
More women are squealing and calling out for me. I have on pads, but without my jersey, my abs are on display. I wink at a brunette screaming so loud that I worry for the eardrums of the people around her.
Jack is still stretching near the bench and he gives me that same disapproving headshake as I approach. “Show off.”
Lewis tosses me a jersey and I pull it on to a chorus of disappointed boos. Time is ticking down for warmup, so I head back out to hit a few more pucks and get ready for the game. It’s then that a blonde on the other side of the arena catches my eye. Possibly it’s because she’s one of the few women not looking my way.
Her long hair is curly and falls over her shoulders. She stares ahead with a blank expression, watching the ice but not really seeing it. The guy next to her has his nose buried in his phone. Lots of couples come to games together, but if a guy is ignoring his date at a hockey game, it’s usually because he’s enthralled with the action on the ice, not his phone. Especially a girl that looks like her.
I glide around our half of the ice with a puck, but my gaze keeps going back to the blonde. She and her date sit at center ice a few rows up. For reasons I can’t imagine, he’s not at all interested in talking to the woman next to him. He gets up and walks up the stairs, stopping a few rows higher to talk to someone.
My skates take me to her before I’ve even decided to approach. I stop hard in front of her, spraying ice. She finally looks at me. My pulse goes into overdrive as our eyes lock. I can’t tell what color her eyes are from here, but I’m struck with this overwhelming desire that I want to find out. I want to move closer and memorize every inch of her face.
A small smile curves her lips and her left brow quirks up in an expression I can only describe as tempting. I stand dumbstruck eight feet away. It’s when she glances over her shoulder and checks to see if her date is paying attention that I finally snap out of it. (He isn’t, for the record. Idiot.)
I flip the puck up with my stick and catch it.
“You want a puck?” I ask, knowing full well it might look or sound like I asked her something else. I’d also be down for that. This girl is even more gorgeous the longer I look at her. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a black sweater. Casual but still striking. All that blonde hair. I want to wrap it around my fingers and tug.
She barely moves her head, but the no is clear from the tiny shake. Her rejection shouldn’t sting; it’s a stupid puck for fuck’s sake, but I want her to have it. People around her are starting to notice I’m giving away a puck and start clamoring for it. I point to her, making my intentions clear, and then toss it over. A guy in the front catches it and (reluctantly) passes it to her.
“If you don’t want to keep it, you could write your number on it and throw it back,” I suggest, raising my voice to be heard over the noise.
A faint blush paints her cheeks, and her lips pull higher. She has a great smile. Perfect full lips and dimples.
“I’ll give you my number,” some guy yells at me and the people around him laugh.
“Thanks for the offer,” I say, not taking my eyes off her. “She’s prettier though.”
She sits a little straighter, cradling the puck in both hands.
“What do you say?”
Still silent, she runs her fingers over the black disc in her hands. Her fingers are adorned in gold rings, but the important finger is empty. “I don’t think so.”
“Is that your boyfriend?” I ask and tip my head toward the guy that was sitting next to her. He’s still chatting away with someone a few rows up like the hottest girl I’ve ever seen isn’t waiting for him.
“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, skating around?” Her stare lifts over my head to my teammates warming up behind me.
“Can’t. I just met my future wife and I need to know if she’s single.”
I can’t hear it, but her body language tells me she laughs quietly. “Yes.”
“Yes, you’re single?”
“No. I meant, yes, that’s my boyfriend.”
Damn. But not a total bust. People break up all the time. And he’s clearly not the guy for her. If she were mine, I’d never take my eyes off her.
Her date finally looks back down at her, notices her attention has been captured and then scowls toward the ice. When he finds me standing in front of his girl, he takes a step toward her possessively. I can hardly blame him. I’d fight me for her too.
Maybe I crossed a line hitting on his girl, but I regret nothing. Skating away is physically painful, but I don’t want to cause a scene and the game is about to start. I chance one more look at her. A rush of pleasure jolts up my spine when I find her eyes on me. With one last smile, I head to the bench. Time to go to work.
“To the start of a great season!” Declan raises his glass.
“This is the year,” Leo adds as he does the same.
“To shutouts.” Tyler grins smugly.
Each one of us says something along the same lines, flying high after winning our first game, and then we slam back our drinks. The first of many to come, judging by the atmosphere tonight.
Wild’s, the closest bar to the arena and unofficial team hangout after games, is packed, and it’s still early. I had to push my way through. Luckily, they always hold a couple of tables for us on home game nights in case we stop by.
My empty glass is quickly replaced with a full one. The guys scatter off to their girlfriends and wives, a few move toward the pool tables and dartboards. I linger at the bar and glance around to see who all came out to help us celebrate.
I smile when I find a familiar face. She moves through the crowd to get to me, hand raised over her head to get my attention. Everly, my teammate Tyler Sharp’s younger sister, comes in for a hug when she finally reaches me. I get a mouthful of her blonde hair as she lunges with enthusiasm.
“Congratulations. You were on fire today.” She squeezes me hard and then pulls back, smiling proudly.
“Thanks, Little Sharpie.” I lean back against the bar. “Are you here alone?”
I look past her and search for her best friend and constant sidekick.
“No.” Her smile is apologetic as she glances over her shoulder and stands on her toes. I follow her line of sight. “Grace and her boyfriend Lane snagged us a table. You want to come say hi?”
“Nah, probably shouldn’t.”
“Lane’s cool. He won’t mind.”
It’s not Lane I’m worried about. For a short time, I considered making a move on Everly’s best friend. She’s beautiful and smart, but since she’s only twenty and still in college, I decided we were at two different places in our lives. I told her as much when she tried to kiss me at a pool party over the summer. She was embarrassed and I felt like an ass, but it was for the best. At least I hope so. The thought of going home alone tonight has me seriously questioning my choices.
“Give her my best.”
Ev nods. “I will.”
“You want something to drink? Soda? Water?”
“I’d love a glass of champagne.”
“Your brother would kick my ass.”
Her quiet laughter is barely audible over the noise. “We’re heading out soon anyway, but I wanted to say hi first.”
“I’m glad you did. How’s school?”
While she fills me in on all the classes she’s taking this semester, my attention wanes a little. I love chatting with Everly, but I’m still so wired from the game and it’s hard to focus. Out of the corner of my eye, a mane of curly blonde hair snags my attention.
I stand taller to get a better look as the crowd of people between us parts, giving me a clear shot. My pulse quickens as I confirm it’s the woman from the game. She’s near the door, arms crossed at her waist as her date towers over her, glowering as he speaks. I don’t need to hear what he’s saying to know he’s being a dick. Looks like a breakup is on the horizon even sooner than expected.
“Earth to Ash Kelly.” Everly waves a hand in front of my face.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I just saw someone I know.”
“A girl someone?”
“Maybe.” I grin. “But I’ll find her later.”
“Go.” She chuckles. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Thanks, Little Sharpie. Good to see you.” I squeeze her shoulder as I pass her to head for the couple at the door.
But by the time I get there, they’ve moved. I turn in a circle, looking for them. His angry voice is what finally leads me in the right direction. Standing outside of the bar a few feet from the entrance, he backs her up against the building as he speaks. “Are you cheating on me?”
“What?” Her voice is stronger and more assertive than I imagined for her small frame. Her boyfriend is tall and broad. It’d be totally reasonable if she was intimidated, but she speaks loud and clear. “Of course not. I told you, I have to go to work.”
“Can’t you just call in? I’ve barely seen you this week. It’s not like you’re performing surgery or something. How much help can you really be?”
Her gorgeous features twist in annoyance. “Screw you.”
“I’m sorry. Fuck, it’s just that I want to hang with you and you’re blowing me off.”
“No. I’m not. I told you that I’d have to leave right after the game.”
I have an overwhelming desire to high-five her for sticking up for herself while this prick talks down to her and then switches to victim-mode.
“Hang out a little longer. I’ll drive you there when it’s time.” His tone is pleading and pathetic.
“I need my car. Otherwise, you’ll have to pick me up in the morning and take me home. Last time you forgot.”
“It was one time,” he says sharply. He wraps his fingers around her bicep. “Come on. Please?”
“I can’t. I really need to go.”
“One drink. You can stay for one drink.” He pulls her along by the arm.
She winces but doesn’t protest again as she stumbles after him.
I step in front of them. “Let her go.”
Her sharp inhale precedes him shooting daggers at me. “Fuck off, man. This doesn’t concern you.”
His hold on her must tighten because her face contorts with pain.
“The fuck it doesn’t.” My jaw tightens as I watch her face pale. “You’re hurting her.”
He looks down to where he’s gripping her and lets go. “Sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Her lips part and form an O, but it takes her a second to speak. “No,” she says finally. “I’m fine.”
“See?” He flashes a cocky smile at me. “She’s fine.”
“She doesn’t seem fine. I think you should take a walk and cool down.” I take another step toward him. He’s taller than me, but softer. He looks like he works out just enough to have the appearance of a fit guy, while I’ve trained nearly every day since I was fifteen. My muscles aren’t for show. Although, that is a nice bonus.
He huffs a laugh and sticks out his chest as he comes toward me. Too dumb to know he can’t possibly win this fight. “Run along before I kick your ass. She doesn’t want anything to do with you, Ash Kelly. You’re a has-been they should have traded years ago.”
Now I’m pissed. A rush of heat spreads through my body. I assumed he didn’t recognize me, but calling me a has-been? Fuck that. I take a step and curl my hand into a fist.
“W-wait.” The girl grabs on to his arm. Some of her long, blonde curls fall over her shoulder. I couldn’t make out her eye color earlier, but they’re a greenish-blue, almost turquoise. “This is stupid. Let’s grab a drink at that place we went last week and then you can drive me to work.”
It doesn’t take a lot of effort on her part to stop him. She shoots me a look that tells me to get lost. I don’t want to leave her alone with this guy though.
“Go,” she mouths. I hold my ground until she adds, “I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”
Her boyfriend sneers when I eventually step back. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
With a huff, he shrugs out of her hold and heads down the sidewalk in the opposite direction with her walking quickly to keep up. I stand there and watch, feeling all sorts of conflicted about letting her leave with him.
My body tingles as my temper cools. What a fucking asshole. Who manhandles a chick like that?
As they turn the corner, she looks back and smiles, but it’s fake as hell. Her dimples don’t even pop. Then they disappear out of sight.
