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My best friend stares at me with her big blue eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You know how they are about superstitions. Look at Axel’s stupid mustache!” I struggle to take a deep breath. “What if he blames me?”

Twyler takes my hand and leads me down the stairs. “I’m still not sure what’s going on with you two, how serious this is, or what’s going to happen long term, but I know that Axel is more together now than he’s been since I’ve met him. He’s steady. Sober. Focused. Reese never thought he’d see him get his shit together.” She stops in front of a door with a security box. “Don’t think we aren’t aware that this change in him happened around the time he stopped chasing puck bunnies and you two started hanging out.”

“He was on probation.”

“And reeling.” She waves the badge in front of the sensor and the door unlocks. “Something got his head on straight, and we both think it was you.”

We enter the locker room. My senses are assaulted by the worst smell I’ve encountered in my life. “Oh my god,” I gag, holding my shirt over my nose.

“Holy shit,” she coughs, “they stink, right? I swear I got desensitized.”

“It’s terrible.”

“Wait here,” she says and gestures for me to the equipment room off the hallway. She strides off before I can argue, and I hear her shout, “Cain!”

“Twyler?” Reese’s voice rises over the other guys. “What the fuck–”

“Get in the training room. Let’s check your shoulder.”

“It’s fine, Sunshine,” he grumbles. I don’t miss the laughter and cat-calls that follow from his teammates.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

Satisfied she’s not being tossed out immediately, I step into the equipment room. The room is painted yellow and black, a badger logo on the wall. There are cubbies filled with skates and helmets hanging on hooks attached to the wall. Bins are piled high with pads and slotted racks holding dozens of beat-up sticks.

A rustle sounds behind me and I turn. Axel stands in the doorway, wearing full goalie pads. “Well, isn’t this a surprise?”

“Hi.” I swallow, taking him in. He looks massive suited up. “I know I shouldn’t be in here. I’m just waiting on Twyler.”

“She told me to come down here and get a new strap for my helmet.” He snorts. “Like that’s going to help the shit show going on out there.”

Irrational panic, mixed with a heavy dose of insecurity, rises in the back of my throat. “I should go.” I push past him. “You need to stay focused.”

He grabs my arm, keeping me in place. “You don’t distract me.”

I don’t miss how his eyes dart down to my chest. I roll my eyes and say, “There’s only one difference tonight, Ax. Me. I’m throwing things off balance. You guys have all your superstitions and rituals. I can’t just come in here and not screw that up.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I’m calling bullshit. Rodgers being a dick is throwing me off balance. Getting in the goalie’s head is his speciality. You, on the other hand, have been coming to the games for a while.” He tugsat the hem of the jersey. “Wearing my name and number. The only difference is we’re fucking now.”

God, his mouth. “That’s a big difference.”

“Not to me.”

I roll my eyes. “Us… doingthat… is huge. It takes things to a new level.”

“Sorry, darlin’ you and I took things to the next level the day you wore that jersey the first time. That was the day I claimed you.” He pushes the hair off my neck. “And we won. Ritual locked in.”

He means what he’s saying, and if there’s one thing I know about the role of being an athlete’s girl, is that it’s my job to make him think he can get the job done. Axel doesn’t need confidence. He has that in spades. My man needs a challenge. “If that’s what you believe, then you need to go out there and prove it.”

“Yeah?” His grin is cocky. Infectious. “How so?”

“If you want me to keep coming to your games, wearing nothing underneath this jersey,” I lean forward, tilting my face to his, “then you better go out there and win this thing.”