Page 16 of Make Me Yours (Chicago Railers Hockey #1)

STEELE

I skate onto the ice and roll my shoulders in an attempt to shake off the agitation crawling under my skin as the arena roars around me. Lights are flashing, music is pulsing, and the fans are on their feet.

But none of it penetrates.

Not really.

The second my gaze scans the crowd, it finds her. She’s in the owner’s suite, seated next to Rina, a drink in her hand, wearing the new jersey I bought her. The sight of her wrapped in my name and number sets something primal loose deep inside me.

It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

All I can think is that the woman is mine.

Lilah might not know it yet, but she belongs to me.

She’s always belonged to me.

River skates up beside me before following my line of sight.

“Looks like your woman made it this time,” he mutters with a smirk. “Hopefully that means your head will be in the game.”

“Shut up,” I grumble, gripping my stick tighter.

He just grins. “Admit it, you’re gone for that woman.”

There’s no point in denying it .

Instead, I take that energy and pour it into the game.

Every shift, every pass, every hit, I play the best damn period of my career.

Each time I touch the puck, the crowd roars. Every goal feels like a message, a silent vow.

She’s here.

Watching.

And if she doesn’t already know she’s mine, I’ll make damn sure she figures it out soon enough.

Before I know it, we’re in the third period and the game is tied.

The atmosphere in the arena is thick as the crowd pulses with energy.

I dig my skates into the ice and race toward the net, tracking the puck, reading the play before it unfolds.

I don’t see the defenseman barreling toward me until it’s too late.

A bone-crunching collision explodes against my ribs, and the next thing I know, I’m airborne.

The world tilts before impact.

My helmet slams against the boards, and a sharp burst of pain ricochets through my skull. Noise erupts around me. There are shouts and the shrill blast of the ref’s whistle along with the scrape of skates cutting across ice. Even so, everything sounds distant and muffled.

I blink, trying to clear the stars clouding my vision as my ears ring. The ceiling of the Kingston Landry Arena looms above me, the bright lights blurring at the edges.

I should get up and shake it off.

Instead, I turn my head and focus on where Lilah is sitting, and squint.

But everything is fuzzy.

I want to tell her not to worry, that I’m okay.

I’ll get up in a second.

That’s when the world fades to black and it’s lights out.