Six months later
Chicago, Illinois
in the second round of the playoffs—otherwise known as the first time I’ll step out onto the ice professionally.
No pressure or anything.
I wasn’t supposed to play this post-season, but that changed on short notice after a torn hip flexor took out one of our key D-men for the foreseeable future. Since I was already in Chicago working with the team, calling me up was the logical move. It’s more than a little ironic that someone else’s injury propelled me up into the league. But Baxter is expected to return in top shape next season, and we’ll be playing right alongside each other.
At any rate, I might not get a whole lot of ice time tonight, but I’ll definitely be out there.
I place an empty glass in the dishwasher and hit the controls to start it before closing the stainless steel panel. My brain works on warp speed, mulling over strategy, positioning, and tactics. There are an overwhelming number of things to remember. We already had our morning skate, game tape review, and team lunch. Now that I’m back home, I should take a nap, but I’m too wired.
Only eight hours to go until puck drop.
I head into the living room, and Violet bumps me with her hip on her way to the coffee maker for a refill, humming beneath her breath. My gaze swivels to follow her, lingering for a beat. She’s barefoot, in thin black yoga pants and a pink tank top with her blonde hair piled on top of her head. No bra, no makeup. Utter perfection. Sometimes I catch myself staring at her, wondering how she could possibly be real. Wondering how she’s with me. Wondering how the hell I got so lucky.
Right now is one of those moments.
Snapping back to reality, I lower onto the gray sectional and unlock my phone, scrolling to the game plan for tonight. It’s hard to believe that after working so hard for so long to make it to the league, it’s finally coming to fruition. Some days, our life feels like a dream even beyond my career. Violet and I have a huge townhouse in the heart of Chicago close to shopping, dining, and most importantly, dog parks. Last week, she got hired as an assistant athletic trainer at a local university. And we’re still within driving distance to her parents and sister. I mean, it’s roughly three hours, but it’s doable for a weekend trip.
Granted, I miss my college friends, but I’ll see some of them when we play against each other next season. And living with Vi—waking up next to her every day and going to sleep with her every night—more than makes up for that. Plus, I’ll bond with the guys on the team soon enough. Teams are always close-knit.
Violet strolls into the room and comes to stand in front of me, bouncing on her heels excitedly. “Just talked to Gracie, and she said yes. Though she’s a little afraid to have an adult weekend away because apparently, she gets knocked up every time Michael is home from tour.” She laughs, taking a sip from the oversized pink mug in her hands.
“Sounds good. It’ll be fun.” I lock my phone, glancing up at her.
She arches a brow. “Are you sure you’re ready for a full house of kids next month? With Abigail crawling, I’m told she’s into everything.”
“I like to think of it as good practice for later.” I wink, and Violet practically swoons on the spot. If there’s a way into her heart—and her pants—it’s talking about having babies. I mean it, though. I can’t wait to do those things with her. We agreed to wait a few more years, but it’s not too far off.
Plus, her nieces and nephew are cute. Though we’ll have to do some major childproofing before they come over. We have a lot of breakable shit.
“Yeah?” She sets her coffee on the end table and steps closer, lowering to straddle my thighs. Beneath the thin fabric of her pink tank top, her chest heaves with an exhale, and the outline of her pert nipples is visible. “We could go upstairs and practice some of that right now.”
“We definitely should.” I wrap my arms around her tiny waist, meeting her for a kiss.
Biscuit starts barking like it’s the apocalypse, interrupting us, and we startle apart. Our front door has frosted glass panes, and he considers anyone who walks by to be an intruder on his territory. Mental note to look into those obedience classes again.
I bring my mouth to hers again, and the doorbell rings.
For fuck’s sake.
“I can get it,” I offer.
“No, it’s just, er, something from Sephora.” Violet climbs off me and rushes away with a guilty look on her face. She always gets weird about her online shopping, even though I never give her a hard time about it. With both of us working, money isn’t an issue, and she doesn’t buy all that much.
She quietly thanks the delivery person, closing the front door. “I’m going to put this away,” she calls. Footfalls sound as she runs upstairs.
Unlocking my phone, I return my attention to the game plan for tonight. My phone pings with a barrage of good luck texts from Vaughn, Connor, Drew, and a handful of my other former teammates. I write them back in between reviewing my notes.
A few minutes later, I hear Violet walk back downstairs behind me, followed by puppy paws clicking on the hardwood.
“Close your eyes.” Her voice is laced with a hint of shyness. “Don’t reopen them until I say you can.”
“Okay.” I close my eyes, waiting for her to give me the word. I like surprises. They’re usually sexy surprises. Maybe it’s lingerie . . .
There’s some shuffling as she steps closer.
“All right. Open.”
I reopen my eyes and find Violet standing before me in a red Chicago jersey with my name and number on it.
Nothing but a red Chicago jersey with my name and number on it.
It’s slightly oversized, hitting at mid-thigh. Her legs are bare and I’m betting there’s no underwear beneath, either.
All the blood leaves my brain, and I toss my phone aside without looking, staring at her. Perfect face, perfect body, my jersey. It’s too much for me to process. How the hell is she mine? I must have been a fucking saint in a former life.
“Do you like it?” She bites back a smile, performing a little twirl to show me the back where it says RICHARDS over the large number twenty-two.
Instead of answering, I push off the couch and circle her legs with one arm, tossing her over my shoulder. In a few, purposeful steps, I cover the distance to the staircase and begin to ascend.
“Is that a yes?” she asks, giggling.
“It’s a fuck yes. Sexiest thing ever. How’d you get that made so quickly?” As a rookie who’s not due to join the roster until the fall, my jersey isn’t exactly something stores have sitting around in stock, and we didn’t have a lot of notice about me getting called up.
“Can’t tell you all my secrets,” Violet says into my T-shirt covered back, still face down. “But I was thinking. Biscuit and I will be awfully lonely with you gone during the season. What do you think about getting another puppy? Maybe he needs a brother.”
I climb another stair, a deep chuckle rumbling in my chest. “Don’t push your luck.”
“So what you’re saying is, you want to get a girl dog this time?”
“Feeling sassy today, huh? I can fix that.” My palm connects with her backside, and she lets out a yelp. I keep my hand planted on the curve of her ass, gripping her as I continue down the hall to our bedroom.
I reach the edge of our bed and place Violet down onto the plush bedding more gently than I normally would. She leans on her elbows, pale blue eyes peering up at me, waiting for my next move. I can almost see up the jersey, but not quite. I’ll get there soon enough.
Instead of ambushing her, I lower onto my side next to her and drink in every inch of her face. Full lips, big eyes, perfect nose. She’s so fucking pretty; I’ll never get over it.
“I love that smile,” she says softly, her fingers skimming my mouth. “I feel like I’m the only one who gets it.”
“That’s because you are.” I kiss her fingertips one at a time. “I’m going to miss the fuck out of you while I’m away next season. Especially after getting spoiled from seeing you every day right now.”
Her lips tug into a pout. “I’ll miss you, too.”
While being on the road won’t be the end of the world, it’ll be an adjustment for both of us. Since we moved in together two months ago, I’ve only taken a few short overnight trips for training. We’ve spent all our free time together hitting up bookstores, bars, and everything in between. Our life together now is everything I ever wanted.
My hand slides up to her bare hip, gently stroking her skin. “I love you, Vi. So much.”
“I love you.” She tilts her head, pressing her soft lips to mine, and her hand sinks into my hair at the nape, tugging hard. My cock jumps, eager to be inside her even though it’s been less than twelve hours since I was.
With a low groan, I push her onto her back, hiking up the scarlet jersey halfway to grant me access to her body. Perfect, smooth skin surrounds her perfect, pink pussy. Fuck, she’s so hot.
And she’s all mine, which makes it even better.
Bracketing her jaw between my thumb and index finger, I sink my teeth into her lush bottom lip, releasing it. “These lips are mine,” I tell her. “They always taste so sweet.” I let go of her face and cup her supple breasts beneath the red fabric. “These are mine, too.”
“What else?” She looks up at me through her long, dark lashes, her voice husky.
Moving lower, I drag my tongue down her flat stomach, digging my teeth into her hipbone and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Violet whimpers, and her back arches off the bed. I push her legs apart, kissing and nibbling her inner thighs. She squirms beneath me, trying to urge me on while I continue to tease her.
I dip one finger inside her, using the slickness of her arousal to circle her clit as I watch her hips sway. “This pussy is definitely mine.”
I’m tempted to faceplant between her legs and stay there for the next three hours until I need to leave. Still might happen. But before I let myself get too carried away, I need to address the most important part of all.
Sliding back up her body, I place my palm on her chest. “And this heart is mine. At least, I hope it is, because you have my heart, and you always will.”
Violet gives me a soft smile and covers my hand with hers. “You’ve had my heart all along.”
***
It’s game time.
After warm-up and an impassioned pep talk from Coach Jacobs, I follow the rest of the team out of the dressing room. As we walk through the grey-painted tunnel, the clamor from the crowd grows even louder. Shouts and whistles practically shake the walls of the arena. While I’m used to playing in front of a crowd, this is next level.
It’s a home game, so at least they’re cheering for us. Next game, we won’t be so lucky.
I step out into the players’ area, scanning the rows of seating. It’s a sea of red from wall to wall, with nearly all of the fans decked out in Chicago gear. My eyes land on Violet and her parents in the section reserved for team families, and I momentarily forget the nerves that have set in. They wave at me excitedly, and Violet blows me a kiss. I throw them a wave back before going to sit on the bench next to Coleman, another defenseman.
He was a rookie last year, so this is his first playoff rodeo, too. While I like him, he reminds me a lot of Connor—which is to say, he’s a hot mess off the ice.
Coleman nudges me with a grin. “Ready?”
“Fuck yeah,” I say, adrenaline kicking in.
The series is sitting at one win for us and two wins for New York. Despite the incredibly high stakes, I’m not as anxious as I was before games in my college days. While I’m keyed up, there’s no underlying sense of dread. No looming worry about what’s to come later. My coach and my team have my back. As for who’s watching, Violet and her parents are the only familiar faces I see, and they’re the only ones I need.
For all I know, Doug could be here—he could be one of the faces in a sea of nineteen thousand people. We haven’t spoken since the Ice Cup tournament. Last I heard, he had gotten fired from Copperhill Academy after Russell spoke to the school. I have no idea if he found another job. I don’t really care. My life has been a thousand times better without him in it.
Everything kicks into warp speed, and the national anthem speeds by like it’s being sung on fast-forward. Before I know it, the puck drops, and the game begins. New York comes out hot, but we come out even hotter, almost instantly taking three shots on net.
A few shifts later, it’s my turn. I hop the boards to join the play in progress, and my skates hit the ice with a familiar jolt. Heart galloping, I dig in my blades and barrel into position, trying to keep up with the breakneck pace. Despite the team practices I’ve attended, the learning curve is steep. Playing at the college level is entirely different than facing seasoned, fully-grown athletes in the midst of a playoff game. It’s fast-paced, it’s exhilarating, and it’s everything I trained nearly two decades for.
It’s one of my biggest dreams coming true.
But when my shift ends and I climb back onto the bench, I know one thing for certain. The most important part of my life isn’t hockey or my career. She’s sitting in section 106, row 5, and she’s my whole fucking world.
