Page 121 of Heartbreak Hockey

“Oh shit,” I say when I remember.

“What?”

“I’ll have an infant.”

He chuckles, kissing down my neck. “I didn’t forget. Guess I must really like you, eh?” He studies me with those stunning jade-green eyes of his. “You sure you want me to move in with you though? You don’t have to make that big of a declaration just to erase some words you said to protect yourself when you were scared. The apology was more than enough for me.”

I press my palm flat against one of his and shake my head. “No. It’s what I want. This conversation is what gave me the courage.”

“Thenwe’regoing to have a baby, Merc,” he says as if to test me. “I mean, I know they’re yours, but I’m not just gonna be wallpaper. We’re a team, okay?”

All I can do is nod. He stands, tugging me with him, sensing that I’ve reached my limit for serious shit tonight. “C’mon, babe. I’m gonna suck you off until you’re at the edge and then I’m gonna ride your dick until you come inside me.”

I let him pull me, willing to follow where he’s leading me. “Really?You’regonna do all the work, eh? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He turns, eyes sparkling at me with mischief. “Guess we’ll see. And in case it wasn’t painfully obvious, I fucking love you. Like, the stupid kinda love and I don’t even care how much I’m entangled into you. I’m just, messed up in you, Merc, forever and ever.”

I yank him to me so that our bodies are flush, and breathe him in. Yeah, I’m clueless and I needed to hear the words. They’re words I’ve wanted to say, but I don’t know if I ever would have gotten the courage to say them first. My man is so brave. He’s my whole world. If the universe wants to throw more shit my way, bring it. I’ve got Jack. I can handle anything.

I trail my hand possessively down his cheek. “I know I’m no expert, but pretty sure it was love at first sight for me. I’ve been fallin’ for you ever since, and I don’t plan on stopping.”

Chapter26

Tom Ford Oud Wood

On The Ice

JACK

If we win this game, it’s us versus Boston for the final round, which means we’ll (obviously) win the cup this year. I’m thinking a four-game sweep. Shouldn’t be too hard.

Another reason it would be nice to win this game, it’s a home game. We want to celebrate at Rodney’s. Like all playoff games—except for when we play Boston because we’re so much better than they are—it’s been tooth and nail. To the death. We’re brutalized. They’re brutalized.

We’re also fucking tired. This is period number six. That’s right. We’re tied, three to three in sudden-death overtime. In the regular season, it would have gone to a shoot-out after one short overtime period. Instead, we’re headed into our third extra, potentially twenty-minute, period.

But I’m not gonna think about how much my muscles are burning. All that matters is getting that next goal.

Coach is losing his damn mind. Well, only I know that. On the outside, he’s a calm and cool cucumber, but I clock the tension in his body. He knows we’re wearing out. We’re still mortals even if on the ice we give off hockey God energy.

When the whistle blows, Coach calls a time-out and the five of us skate in. I’m on the first line with the Alderchucks actively not thinking about the blisters on my feet.

“Alderchucks, set Jack up. He’s going to fucking slap it in the net. We’re ending this game. Defense, go in hard. They’re dying too. Pylons for you to knock over. Get Leslie up there.”

“Aye, Coach,” Casey says.

We try to be professional on the ice if not the locker room, but his weary smile holds that silk strand of fondness just for me.

Putting our hands in the center with a last hurrah, we assume our battle faces on and prepare to finish this.

At the centerline, I face off with Cyril Blackwood, a formidable centerman, but not better than me. Bending over, I rest my stick on my upper thighs, glaring victory at him. Merc wants a goal; I’m gonna get him that goal.

“I’ve seen better hands on a clock, Leslie,” Blackwood says.

“What, these hands?” I say as the puck drops and it’s mine. I slap it back to Casey, skate forward and around Blackwood like he’s lawn furniture. Oh, how I’d like to slam him into the boards, but now is not the time.

Casey chases the puck across the blue line and then passes across to Stacey as I hang back and line up with the net just over the blue line. There’s a quick pass back to Casey and then a crisp one back to Stacey that gives me the chills and somehow, I know it’s coming.

I’m ready.