Page 15

“ F uck!” I grind out as I’m checked into the boards— hard —by an Edmonton player.

We’re on the ice right where Claire and Madison are seated, and as the glass reverberates, they both jump back.

Yeah, they’re in the front row again. They really do like these close-to-the-action seats.

That’s fine with me. I love seeing Claire during the game.

I glance at her now and notice that her hand is over her heart. There’s also concern for my safety on her face.

I’m fine, just a little pissed that I didn’t avoid that check.

Still, before I skate away, I turn back and give her a reassuring wink.

It’s going to take a lot more than a punishing check to take me out of this game.

And what a game it’s been. There’s been loads of offense, which the fans always love. What they’re enjoying even more is that we’re currently up 6-5.

I can take credit for one of those goals.

Oh, and an assist as well.

Yeah, it’s been a good night.

But we still have three minutes and twenty-two seconds left to play. Anything can happen. That’s why we need to put this thing away with an “insurance” goal.

There’s a TV time-out, so Coach waves us over to the bench to discuss strategy. He informs us that we, the top line, will stay out for one more shift.

We lean on our sticks and watch intently as he draws up a play on his dry-erase board.

The face-off will be in the opponent’s zone, so if Lennox wins the draw, which he should, he’ll shoot the puck straight to me.

I’ll hopefully find a clear lane to get it on the net, but if not, I’ll pass it to Shane or back to Lennox. Coach doesn’t want the defensive guys getting overly involved, like pinching, as the last thing we need is for Edmonton to get a breakaway down the ice.

They’re just too good and loaded with talent.

The time-out ends, and we get into position for the face-off. Even though we’re up by one, my heart is racing. We need to score one more goal for me to feel good about our chances. I’d like to be the hero tonight, especially since Claire is in the stands.

Why does everything always come back to her?

I don’t know, and there’s no time to think about it now, as the ref just dropped the puck.

Lennox wins the draw cleanly and shoots the puck to me, just as planned.

Annnd I have a clear lane to the net.

What a break!

I shoot the puck, and it fucking goes in.

Yes!

The play worked out exactly as drawn up. That doesn’t always happen, so we’re extra exuberant in our celebration on the ice.

So are the fans.

They’re going wild.

I feel like a million bucks. We have this game in the bag now. No way can Edmonton score two goals in the short amount of time that’s left, especially if we tighten up defensively.

We do exactly that, and sure enough, even though they pull their goalie for the duration, they can’t get anything past our netminder.

Time runs out, and we win the game.

I’m awarded the first star of the night. Claire is there to watch me skate out and lift my stick to the crowd.

As I skate by her, she gives me a big thumbs-up, and then claps excitedly.

Damn, I think she’s more amped than I am. Just like in my high school hockey days—she was always my biggest cheerleader.

Back in the locker room, the vibe is high. We’re all laughing and talking, and there’s music on in the background.

Some of the guys are going out to grab a late dinner, but I’m too pumped to eat. Besides, I had a bigger pregame meal than usual, so I’m not really hungry.

Though maybe my real reason for skipping the dinner is that I just want to go home and see Claire.

Whatever the case, that’s exactly what I do.

But when I arrive home, I find the house is quiet.

I’m let down. Claire may have gone to bed. Or what if she stopped somewhere with Madison? Her friend was driving tonight, so the fact that I noticed Claire’s car in the garage when I pulled in is of no significance.

Disappointed, I drop my key fob onto the kitchen counter and head to the front of the house.

That’s when I hear sounds coming from the living room; clearly it’s the TV.

Awesome.

Claire is home after all.

I make a little noise out in the entry hall so I don’t startle her. Then I lean on the door frame and clear my throat.

Claire twists around on the sofa. “Hey,” she says with a smile.

“Hey back at you.” I go in and take a seat next to her. Not too close, but not too far away either. “Whatcha watching?” I ask.

“Nothing really,” she says as she blows out a breath. “I was just flipping through the channels. Why? Do you want to talk?”

“Sure.”

Claire turns off the TV, then leans back on the arm of the sofa. As she pulls her legs up under her, I notice she has on the most vibrant purple fuzzy socks I think I’ve ever seen.

They match what she wore to the game and still has on—black leggings and a black-and-violet Bears hoodie—but damn, they are bright.

Pointing to her feet, I tease, “Wow, those things sure stand out.”

“Heyyy,” she protests. “I wore these to go with the hoodie.”

“Well, they do, for the most part. But, man, I hope you didn’t blind anyone.”

“Ha ha.” She lifts the throw pillow that’s wedged between us and playfully smacks my jean-clad leg with it. “I had boots on over these, so shut up.”

I hold up my hands. “Okay, okay. Since you’re bringing out the big artillery”—I nod to the pillow, still in her grasp—“I give up.”

She drops her weapon, which lands between us, as she murmurs, “Wise choice.”

Looking at each other, we both start laughing. Having goofy fun like this is just so us. It always was, and I’m glad it still is.

“On a serious note, though,” Claire says, “what about that game?”

“Right?” I nod. “It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

She straightens one leg and, kicking the pillow out of the way, nudges me with her purple-sock-covered foot. “ You were amazing,” she amends.

I give her a humble smile. “Thanks.”

We talk a little about the game, and I share with her, “Man, I’m still feeling pumped.”

“I bet,” she replies. And then she adds, “To be honest, I’m feeling kind of wound up myself.”

Raising a brow, I throw out, “We could go somewhere if you want. You know, to expend all this excess energy.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s getting kind of late. I think most places are closed or are closing.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I agree.

I’m actually glad she doesn’t want to leave the house. I don’t even really know what I was going to suggest. Go to a bar, a club? That’s really not our scene.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Claire says. “It’s something we used to do in the past. But it might sound silly now. I don’t know. Then again…” She shrugs. “Maybe it’s not too silly.”

My curiosity is piqued, as I have no clue what she may be thinking.

Twisting to face her more fully, I ask, “What’s your idea?”

Smiling brightly, she says, “I think we should put on some music and dance.”

“Dance?” I question.

“Yes, dance.”

Suddenly, in a whoosh of memories, it all comes back to me. Claire and I used to listen to music and dance like wild fools. It was the most fun ever back then.

Maybe it could be again?

Now I’m smiling, and Claire says, “You remember, don’t you?”

I nod. “I do.”

“So, what do you think?”

I hold out my hand. “Hell yeah, girl. I love it. Let’s dance.”