Page 27 of Ice Cold, Red Hot (Coldwater Firehawks Hockey #1)

SHEPHERD

It was rough taking the loss. We didn’t even get the chance to move forward in the tourney, and getting defeated on our own turf just added to the sting.

But I wasn’t crushed.

I’d gotten to play, for one thing—and I was never going to take that for granted again.

And this time? I hadn’t played for the scouts in the stands, or for the highlights I knew Dad would watch later and call me to chew me out about.

I played for me. For love of the game, and for my team.

And there was nothing in what I’d done tonight that I was even a little bit ashamed of.

I’d done my best—we all had. And we’d lost.

But for the first time ever, I didn’t feel like throwing my fist through a wall—or a snarky grad student.

Was this what growing up felt like?

I did play for me… but I also played for someone else. Celeste.

I’d had to put her to the back of my mind for the game—at least all the things I needed to say had to stand back.

But seeing her there in the stands, finding her eyes after each play…

it gave me a kind of strength I didn’t know I had.

She was there not for the team, not to see us win.

She was there for me—and knowing that was the best feeling in the world.

“You guys played hard, fought well,” Coach said, stepping into the locker room.

“It went the wrong way, but I can say with a clear mind that it wasn’t because we did anything wrong.

It’s been a great season, and an honor to be your coach.

Go celebrate an incredible season together, and I’ll see you at the banquet in a few weeks. ”

Coach went around and gave us each a handshake and a few words. When he stopped in front of me, he actually pulled me into a hug. “It’s been an honor coaching you, Shepherd. Especially this last season. I hope you understand how far you’ve come. No matter what happens next.”

“Thanks, Coach. I appreciate your faith in me.”

He held my eyes for a long beat and then moved on.

It was sinking in slowly… that was my last college game.

Maybe my last competitive game ever, if being benched had wrecked my chances of a future.

I tested the way that felt when I thought about it…

and found that it was okay. It wasn’t what I’d wanted, what I’d been working for, but maybe that was okay. I’d find another path if I had to.

Right now, I need to shower and get outside.

Someone was waiting for me.

The crowds had mostly cleared by the time I made it out of the rink, and guilt punched me when I realized I’d asked her to wait in the dark and cold by herself outside.

Was I already ruining everything?

As I moved beyond the rink doors, the glare of the hallway lights was replaced by the soft glow of the outdoor lighting that lined the walkways around campus.

There was a distinct chill in the air as I stepped out, but we’d had a warm snap in the past few weeks that lingered just beneath the cooling breeze.

I glanced around finding clusters of people—many of them looking disappointed.

Finally, my eyes landed on a sole figure sitting on the bench farthest from the doors, waiting alone.

Her wavy dark hair was down, glinting strands of reddish gold in the soft lights from above.

She was wrapped in a coat, her hands stuffed into the pockets.

She was looking up at the sky as I approached, her face aglow as if it were a spring day and she was just taking in some sun.

“Hey,” I said, and she startled, letting out a soft chuckle just after meeting my eyes.

“Sorry, I was in my own world.”

“Mind if I—” I indicated the bench beside her.

“Sure, yeah.” She watched me warily, as if I might snap. I didn’t blame her. I hadn’t been anything close to predictable where she was concerned. Hell, I hadn’t even been nice.

“So, I?—”

“The game?—”

We both started at the same time, and then stopped, a tense silence replacing the rushed words. I turned to face her.

“I was just going to say I’m sorry about the game,” she said. “I know how much hockey means to you. I know you hoped to go further, but it was a really amazing match.”

I nodded. “It was. I don’t think we could have done anything differently.”

Her eyes raked my face, searching. “You’re not upset?”

I blew out a breath, searching around inside myself. It surprised me as much as it clearly surprised her. “No, not really. Disappointed, sure. I’d be upset if I’d screwed up. Or if I’d gotten in a fight… if I’d let my impulses rule me. But tonight, I didn’t.”

She nodded. “I noticed that.”

I smiled. It was something I was proud of. I had never realized how much all the expectation and pressure got to me on the ice. It nearly stole the love I had for the game. But tonight? I’d played for me. “Thanks.”

We sat for a long moment, both of us letting our eyes drift up to the sky, and I realized why Celeste had been looking up when I’d found her. “Wow,” I said.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

The stars were intensely bright. It was a moonless night, and the sky looked like an enhanced version of itself, like what you’d see at a planetarium.

“It reminds me of the lake this summer,” I said. “When there were no city lights around to dim them.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft, breathy.

She didn’t say anything else, and I knew this was on me. I had so much to say to her though, I wasn’t sure where to start.

“I think about this summer a lot,” I said.

“Me too.”

Looking at the stars made it a little bit easier to say what was on my mind, so I kept my gaze fixed on the pinpricks of light around and above us, and she did the same.

“Meeting you… it was like…” I swallowed hard. “It was like you were the first person who ever saw me as I was. For me.”

“As opposed to?”

“You didn’t care about hockey. About my family. My brother.”

“I didn’t know about any of that,” Celeste reminded me, leaning in slightly and bumping my shoulder. “You were just some guy at the lake.”

The contact between us lightened things a bit. “Oh yeah? Some guy, huh?”

She glanced at me then, and when our eyes met, I felt that energy that was always there between us. She smiled and looked back up, but the space between us had closed a bit. I could feel the warmth radiating from her.

“Some really hot, really smart guy who was easy to talk to, funny… some guy who had some really incredible talents…”

“Hockey, you mean?”

“Not at all. I was thinking more about that thing you did with your tongue…” Her voice got breathy and trailed off, and my body reacted immediately. God, I wanted to touch her. But there were things to say first.

“Celeste,” I said, wanting her eyes on mine.

When she dropped her chin and looked at me, I reached out for her hand.

Her fingers, though covered in a knit glove, were still long and elegant as they wound through mine.

“I wasn’t ready for you when we met. I was impulsive and arrogant, and the only thing I understood about love was that it came when I scored. When I performed.”

Her fingers tightened on mine.

“You made me want to see how it could be different, though.”

She didn’t say anything, and I went on.

“I’ve made so many mistakes,” I said. “The fight on the ice, punching Ethan… pushing you away. If I were you, I’d have given up a long time ago. You’re probably way too good for me. So I guess the reason I wanted to talk was to ask this: have you given up? I won’t blame you if the answer is yes.”

Celeste’s eyes held mine as my heart froze, waiting for her answer, waiting to see if there was still a chance.

“I wanted to give up,” she said, a smile lifting one side of her mouth. “I wanted to walk away, write you off… “

My heart sank.

“But Shepherd, I couldn’t.”

Hearing those words, and seeing the wide smile take over her face, I knew everything I needed to know. There was more to say, but as Celeste leaned in toward me, I decided that words could wait.

I pulled our linked hands until she was in my lap and my arms could go around her, her legs over mine. And then, I guided her head to mine, and kissed her—slowly, tentatively, sweetly. Because this girl? This girl was worth taking my time with. And if I had my way, I’d have forever.