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I nod agreeably. You’re right. But I do have a message for you from the new editor-in-chief.

I pick up my phone to read out Jaz’s script.

Joey, thanks so much for filling in as sports editor.

As you know, you were in the role on a trial basis, and we’ve received a lot of complaints about the sports section under your management.

So, we’ve decided to bring back Andy Robson, effective immediately.

Joey sputters. There’s no fucking way that Bryce Myrtle wrote that. He can’t stand you.

I said the new EIC. Jaz Nelson. Bryce is gone too.

Now that Joey is satisfyingly slack-jawed, I beam at him.

The Messenger wasn’t going to work out for you anyway, since I know you hate working ‘under women.’ We make up half the population though, so you might want to reconsider your attitude.

I turn and motion towards Jacob, who is wearing a rare smile.

Jacob will cover tonight’s game, so you’re free to go now.

Jacob pipes up. Yeah. The guy who ‘writes like a fucking preschooler’ will be taking over for you.

You can both fuck off. I didn’t drive all the way to Buttfuck, Wisconsin just to do one game, Joey whines. His new buddies scowl at the unflattering description of their hometown. Joey’s making enemies everywhere he goes.

Looks like you did. Buh-bye. I give a little hand wave.

I think our work here is done, I say to Jacob as we walk away.

Didn’t think you had it in you, Robson, he replies.

Fear my mean side, I reply merrily. That was fun.

You’re as mean as a marshmallow, he scoffs. Actually, I take it back. You’re just like Sinc. It takes a lot to set you off, but once someone does—look out.

Who did Jack brutalize? I pull out my phone to figure out where Emily is.

Jacob snorts. I’ll let him tell you about it. But here’s a hint: first letter O, second letter D.

Oh, I like the sound of that. That O.D. is a huge jerk.

We round the corner and run right into Emily, who is carrying a takeout box bulging with drinks and fries.

Jacob and I discuss the logistics of tonight’s game coverage.

It’s going to be a challenge for me since I don’t have my laptop, but I do have a two-hour ride home with Emily driving. Everything will work out.

You look pretty pleased with yourself, Emily observes as we make our way down to our seats.

The good guys are winning, I reply.

No, Emily wails. It’s bad luck to say that until the game.

We munch on fries and watch the warm-ups. It’s going to be a different experience, watching my first road game. Luckily, it’s a tournament game where neither team is actually the home team, and my Mustangs jersey doesn’t attract any negative attention.

As the players line up for the puck drop, I nudge Emily. Look, Jack is in the starting line-up. That means he’s in the top defence pairing.

Oh, that’s awesome news. Then she does a double-take. You know so much more about hockey now. It’s pretty amazing.

That’s true. I don’t even have to consult my hockey notebook anymore, I just know these things.

But it wouldn’t take an expert to tell that Jack is one of the best players on the ice tonight.

He’s flying around the ice and making beautiful passes and plays.

Unfortunately, the Hunter College players notice him too, and he’s taking more hits and slashes than any other Mustang player. I wince each time.

Emily laughs at my worries. Jack’s tough. And don’t forget all the equipment he has on.

But she doesn’t have to see the multicoloured bruises that dot his body after the games. Luckily, the thought of Jack undressed transports my mind to a happier and sweatier place.

The game is tight. Hunter scores first, then Monarch ties things up ten minutes later. The second period is a repeat of the first: Hunter scores and Monarch replies once again.

We’re nervous going into the third. Emily crosses her fingers on both hands. I really hope they can score first this period.

But there isn’t any scoring at all in the first fifteen minutes of the period. Both teams get chances, but nobody finishes.

Pretty sure that’s a cross-check, I mutter as a Hunter player whacks his stick into Jack’s back.

Open your eyes, ref! Emily yells for me. Her sweet personality transforms when she walks into an arena.

Astonishingly, her taunt works. When a Hunter player hooks his stick around Jack’s waist to prevent him from skating away with the puck, there’s a whistle and a penalty call.

Power play, Emily cheers.

And when Jack lines up for the face-off, I squeeze her arm. Jack’s on the top power play unit! That’s never happened before. He’s out there with all the Mustangs’ best players.

She nods, with her eyes glued to the ice. And he’s only a freshman. Andy, that’s amazing.

I have to remind myself to breathe as the Mustangs whip the puck around with full control.

Clink . We groan at the sound of the puck hitting the goal post.

So close, Emily laments. But the Mustangs still have the puck, and Big Z sends it back to the point. Jack takes a hard slapshot and the puck sails towards the net. I jump out of my seat, but I lose sight of the puck in the mass of bodies battling in front of the Hunter goalie.

I see the red light flash behind the net, and Emily shrieks, Goal!

We jump up and down and cheer.

It was Jack! Jack scored! she screeches into my ear.

I nod excitedly. I hope it was Jack, but there were too many players around to be sure. Jacob can show me a replay later. And, best of all, Jack can tell me how it feels to score such a big goal.

Unfortunately, having the lead makes the game even more stressful as the Mustangs try to hold on as Hunter pushes hard.

They pull their goalie, so that the last two minutes are spent battling and shooting in our zone.

I think Jack blocks as many shots as the goalie.

But by the time the final buzzer sounds, Monarch has won: 3-2. And our voices are almost gone.

Jack played insanely well tonight, Emily croaks. I bet it’s because you guys got back together. Or because you’re wearing his jersey?

Or because he’s just that good? I croak back.

She puts her arm through mine as we make our way out of the stands. You’re a romantic, just like me, she says.

Maybe I am. But right now, I still have work to do. Emily tags along as Jacob and I figure out how to handle the story logistics.

As I’m finishing up with Jacob, strong arms wrap around my waist and someone kisses my ear. I turn and see Jack’s movie-star smile. Then he spins me around and holds me at arm’s length.

Hey, beautiful, he says.

Hey to you too, Mr. Game Winning Goal. I can’t help grinning too.

Jacob mutters something about nauseating young love and leaves. Emily steps back, both to give us privacy and to admire the hockey team as they exit the dressing room.

Fuck. It’s so good to hold you again. And your voice is kinda sexy, he murmurs into my ear.

That’s your fault. Too much cheering, I reply.

I’m really glad you were here to see that goal. Wish it was prettier though, I think it went in off the Hunter defenceman’s butt.

There’s beauty in chaos, I reassure him, and he gives me a genuine smile. I got to see the replay, and it ricocheted off multiple players. It’s lucky that the puck went in at all.

Jack has only a few minutes before his bus heads back to Monarch, so we discuss how we can meet later.

The team will stop to eat on the way home, so I won’t be home before midnight. Is that too late? he asks.

I shake my head. No, I’ll stay up. I have too much to tell you.

Message me when you’re almost back, and I’ll come to your house.

I’ve been shy about staying over with his housemates around, but I’m ready now—this is part of being all in.

Maybe there will be teasing, but that’s part of life with Jack.

His teammates like him, so they hassle him. It’s a guy thing.

Time to kiss your smoochy-poo goodbye, Sinc, someone calls as they walk by, thus proving my point.

Jack presses his keys into my hand. Go straight to my place and make yourself at home. You can eat or watch TV if you want. And if you want to go to sleep, I’ll wake you up when I get there.

I wrap my arms around his neck and purr, I’ll keep your bed warm.

Jack groans. Now I’m not going to be able to think about anything except you in my bed for the next three hours.

Here’s a preview then. I stretch up to give him a quick kiss, but Jack turns it into something hot and messy. I’ve really missed Jack—his warm lips, his strong arms, his passionate ways. We kiss until Bergy calls out a warning that the bus is leaving.

See you soon. Jack gives me one last squeeze and lopes off. Emily magically reappears, and together we make our way out to the parking lot.

The weather is good and there’s not much traffic, so our trip home is uneventful. I transcribe Jacob’s game story, edit it, and forward it to Jaz. Then I dust off my hands, work done.

I’m sending you money for gas. Thanks so much for driving, I tell Emily. She borrowed her housemate’s car.

She beams at me. Are you kidding? If you didn’t ask me to help pull off your grand gesture, I would have been so disappointed.

It was worth it, too. Jack looked so happy.

You two make the best couple. She reaches over to pat my hand.

You’ve been through a lot this semester, and I’m really glad it’s all working out.

I nod. My challenges were things I was able to conquer with help from people who care about me. Dawn, Emily—and now Jack—are in my circle of trust. Yes, I have issues to work through—but I have both inner strength and people to depend upon.

Emily pulls up in front of Jack’s house. It’s sort of weird to be alone in a guy’s house without him. He must trust that you’re not going to snoop through his stuff. Because I would so do that.

Jack isn’t the type to have deep secrets. I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t keep a journal and there’s not much personal stuff in his room.

But what if you find something kinky in his underwear drawer? she asks.

Like what?

She shrugs. I don’t know. Leashes? Handcuffs?

I’d ask him why we haven’t used them yet.

Emily’s shocked face is the last thing I see as I close the car door.

Once in Jack’s room, I don’t search the drawers for sex toys.

I drop my purse, then take the world’s fastest shower—in case the guys get home unexpectedly early.

After all the momentous things that happened today, I’m exhausted.

But once I’m back in Jack’s room wrapped in my towel, I’m not quite sure what to wear to bed.

Naked is too risky an option, so I settle on the jersey—and nothing else.