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"In my defense, it’s hard to resist smiling at James Adler."

James Adler

We’re all gathered in the locker room, ready to kick some Carolina butt tonight.

The only problem is, all I can think about is Elizabeth and her myriad of sexy underwear that now live two floors down from me.

When she first told me the news, a surge of relief washed over me as I realized that meant she’d finally left that douchebag.

Of course, that doesn’t mean she’ll ever be interested in me, just like Aaron said.

But I’m just happy she’s not with that loser anymore.

“Are you all right, Adler?” H awthorne asks, his concerned-dad look activated. Granted, I’m not usually sitting around, thinking, before a game.

I bump my fist on his thigh. “All good, Cap. Just getting my head in the game. Ready?”

“You know it.” He winks.

Miles leans toward me, hitting me with his glove. “Are you still ruminating over the fact that Beth moved in with us?”

My pulse accelerates at the sound of her name. “Nope.”

“Oh, Beth moved in with you?” asks Beaumont, who has big ears, as he saunters over. What is this? Gossip hour?

“Yeah,” Miles says. “She broke up with Rogers and needed a place to stay for a while.”

“And here I thought Adler would be the first to volunteer,” Beaumont says with a smirk.

“He didn’t know about it,” Miles replies, as if I’m not sitting right next to them.

“Oh,” Hawthorne says. “Makes sense.”

“Not that she would have accepted his offer,” Beaumont adds, and I try to kick him in the crotch, but the idiot has good reflexes.

I sit back and sulk, though they’re not entirely wrong. I’m still planning to ask Elizabeth, just in case, but I doubt that’ll be a winning move.

“Well, good for Beth,” Hawtho rne says, playing with his mouth guard. “Plus, now she can be a real Raptors fan.”

“All right, gentlemen,” Coach Martin says, marching into the room.

Everyone falls silent and takes their seat.

“First game of the season. We’ve got to dictate the pace tonight.

Play as fast as you can. Be crisp with the puck, and win all your one-on-one battles. You’ve got this. Let’s rock and roll!”

Everyone cheers and claps as Coach hands me a printed list. As the team’s official entertainer, I’ve taken on the job of announcing the starting lineup.

I walk to the center of the room and peer at my teammates.

“Rrrraaaptors! Let’s get this show on the road.

In the front we have Max ‘The Hair’ Beaumont!

” I point at him, and everyone cheers. He bows, showing off his perfect curly hair that got him that nickname.

“We also have our fearless leader, Captain Caleb Hawthorne!”

More whoops and hollers erupt around the room.

“And the best left winger in the league . . . Yours truly!” I add, giving them a twirl and making everyone laugh. “Defending James Norris trophy winner, Aaron Miles, will be in the back,” I continue, pointing at Miles, who waves at the guys.

“And the toughest defenseman in the NHL, David Johnson!”

He stands up and pumps his fist u nder the rain of cheers.

“And defending our Raptors cage, the one, the only, the great Noah ‘Wally’ Wilcott!” I announce, pointing to our goalie. Being the grump that he is, he barely acknowledges my introduction.

“Come on, Wally,” I tease. “I know you want to smile.” I walk up to him and start boxing him for fun, but he’s not having it.

Well, at least everyone else is laughing and pumped up, which means my first job of the night was a success.

“Let’s go, guys!” I call out, clasping my hands together before walking back to my stall to grab my helmet. Everyone slaps my back or shakes my hand as I pass them, and minutes later, we’re in the tunnel, ready to get this game started.

The music is blasting, and the crowd’s cheers crescendo to a roar. I hop on my skates, excited to be back on the ice.

Tonight’s the home opener, which means a pregame ceremony will mark the unveiling of our Stanley Cup championship banner.

The deep voice of the PA announcer cuts through the roaring of the crowd as he presents tonight’s game.

A video plays of last season’s highlights, and even though we can’t see it from where we’re standing, we can hear the audio mixed with the crowd’s booming cheers.

Emotion and adrenali ne surge through me as I recall that magical moment when the announcer spoke those eight words: “The New York Raptors won the Stanley Cup!” It was a few months ago now, but I still get chills when I think about it.

The rest of the guys feel the same. I can tell from the elated smiles on their faces, the gleam in their eyes, or the way they clap their hands with fervor.

That moment bonded us forever. Miles slaps my back, and I bump my shoulder with his.

Finally, the announcer calls us on the ice, and I stride forward.

I always lead the way. I love stepping on the ice first and hearing the roar of the crowd multiply.

Tonight is particularly wild, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such a fantastic crowd before as we skate onto the ice.

Spotlights are roaming around the rink, and fans are cheering at the top of their lungs.

We thought we had a warm welcome when we started our warm-ups, but this is ten times more insane.

I skate around, waving my stick at the fans, soaking in their energy, their smiles, the love they’re giving us.

We drop our sticks and helmets on the bench before gathering at center ice as the announcer says, “And now, please welcome the Stanley Cup.”

The cup itself gets an even crazi er welcome from the fans.

“Carried by Team Captain, Caleb Hawthorne!”

Hawthorne steps on the ice, holding the large cup and showing it off to the crowd. He places it on a table next to a trunk containing our banner before skating toward us.

The trunk opens, and the banner unveils, being lifted to the ceiling. The crowd claps and cheers while we stand arm in arm, watching it with pride—smiling as we reminisce on our past accomplishments, but also dreaming of recreating those memories.

We take one last group picture with the cup before doing some free skating around the rink, applauding our fans and thanking them for their support. I even blow a few kisses to the crowd, making people laugh.

The Carolina Kings enter next, and our fans quiet down as we grab our helmets and sticks. It’s time to get our heads back in the game.

Beth Bowen

Going to a hockey game after ending a complicated relationship with a hockey player doesn’t seem like the best idea on paper, but in reality, it’s exactly what I needed.

Even if I was never a huge fan of th e sport—or any sport, for that matter—one thing is undeniable when it comes to hockey. It’s one heck of a show.

That’s especially true tonight, with the pre-game banner-unveiling ceremony and one last look at the Stanley Cup.

All our friends are here to support the Raptors tonight: Marissa, of course, in her full Raptors gear as she sports Aaron’s number, but also the No Shelf Control girls from across the street.

There’s Hayley, who’s engaged to Maxime Beaumont, plus Maxime’s sister, Alice, and her boyfriend, Deacon.

He doesn’t make it to the games often, but now that he’s hired someone to help him manage the bar, we might see him more.

His niece, Lola, is here too with one of her friends from school.

Finally, we have Emma and her fiancé, Auston Buckley, the famous movie—now theatre—star.

During season games, it’s usually only Marissa, Hayley, and me, so it’s great to have the entire gang here.

The banner-unveiling ceremony was more emotional than I’d anticipated. Watching the guys standing arm in arm like that gave me chills. It’s crazy how many emotions a simple sport can conjure up.

Once the ceremony ends, James, Maxime, and Aaron skate toward the bench to grab their gear.

Since our group is sitting behind the glass, right next to the team bench, they wave at us with bright smiles.

James, of course, can’t help but blow me a kiss.

The girl behind me squeals, and as I turn around, I see that she’s waving back at James, who just grins.

I shake my head with a scoff before reapplying some Lip Smacker.

He’s such a flirt, but his methods work well with the feminine population.

You should see the number of girls wearing his jersey tonight.

Which reminds me, I don’t own any Raptors gear.

Lucas would have thrown a fit. Well, I kind of understood where he was coming from, but now I’m free to show my support for our red and black.

I’ll get a numberless hoodie or a cap later.

The players take their positions at center ice, and the puck drops. They go hard at it from the get-go, probably fueled by the explosive crowd tonight, or the fresh reminder that they have a title to defend.

James seizes the puck after a rebound and shoves it into the Carolina cage barely three minutes in.

The horn blares, followed by the sound of the Raptors cheering.

Everyone is on their feet celebrating. James skates around the rink, brandishing his stick and encouraging the fans to amp up their volume.

When he reaches our spot, he just winks at me, and I can’t help but smile.

In my defense, it’s hard to resist smiling at James Adler.

Yes, he is the ultimate player and flirt, but he wears his empathy on his sleeve.

That said, as happy as I am to co unt him as a friend, I won’t fall for his act. I know his type. They like the chase, but as soon as they get what they want, they lose interest. Ask me how I know.

Besides, after what happened with Lucas, I need a break. This heart is closed off to men for the time being—hockey players in particular. Actually, there’s a special section just for them locked behind a fireproof door, and I just threw away the key.

The game ends with a win for our Raptors, and fans are delighted as they trickle out of the arena. Tonight’s atmosphere was fun and fueled with adrenaline, and I’m glad I came. We’re all gathered in Deacon’s bar now—our usual postgame hangout.

Word got around that some of the players hang out here after the game, so more and more people are cramming into the space, but the crowd is chill. And we have a private backroom.

The cheers and applause rippling from the front of the bar tell us the guys have just entered the building.

Sure enough, when Marissa opens the door, we see them walking toward the back.

Not all the Raptors come to Deacon’s bar, but we have a circle of friends with about eight players.

As they make their way to the back, they stop and take a few selfies, sign some autographs, and—in the case of James ‘The Hug’ Adler—hug a lot of people.

No, scratch that. Hug a lot of beautiful women .

He’s clearly enjoying himself, an elated smile plastered on his face as he hugs each of them in turn and takes selfies with them.

It’s fascinating to watch, even though, if I’m being honest, it’s also kind of gross.

These girls don’t even pretend not to check him out or feel him up as they wrap their arms around his strong torso.

James doesn’t seem to care. Of course he doesn’t.

What guy doesn’t like when a sexy woman wraps her arms around him?

I know all about that from dating Lucas for eighteen months, though the Sharks didn’t boast quite the same level of fandom.

And for some reason, it never bothered me as much.

I guess Lucas was closer to his fans in private.

I almost throw up my nachos just thinking about it. How dumb was I?

By now, everyone but James has made it through to the backroom, and Marissa closes the door behind Aaron before falling into his arms.

We congratulate the guys on their first win, and chatter fills the room. Deacon puts some music on from the jukebox, and we all grab a drink.

I’m talking with Emma and Austo n about his next Broadway play when James finally joins us.

He sweeps the room, his gaze only stopping when it falls on me, and I immediately avert my eyes.

No need to give him any more ammunition.

The fact that he’s the only man to have ever witnessed my entire panty collection doesn’t help with the fire burning inside me whenever I look at him.

I manage to ignore James most of the night, but when I leave the restrooms, I chance upon him in the hallway, speaking on the phone as he leans against the wall. There’s nowhere to hide.

His face lights up, and I offer a feeble smile before slipping past him.

“I’ll call you back,” he says into the phone before tucking it in his pocket and catching up with me. “Elizabeth, we haven’t had a chance to talk yet.”

“Right,” I say, stopping. “Congrats on the game, and your goal and assists.”

He grins. “Thanks. Glad you enjoyed the show.”

I smile, my insides scorching beneath the look he’s giving me. Like I’m just too tasty to resist. “So, you moved into the building? Why not stay with me? My place is bigger than Miles’, and I’m all alone there.”

A chuckle escapes me, but I roll my eyes. “Not gonna happen.”

“Aww, why not? We’d have fun together.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. After all, you need to keep the coast clear for your harem of girls.”

He splays a hand on his chest. “You hurt my feelings to think so little of me, Elizabeth.”

“Speaking of,” I mumble, glancing behind him to where two girls are patiently waiting with their phones.

He looks at them, then back at me. He opens his mouth to protest, but I’m faster.

“Enjoy your night, James. ”