Page 3 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

“Seriously? I’m a Blizzard?”

“If you do a good job, you’ll be there until he heals. If you’re lucky, even longer. Isaiah has been thinking about retirement. Go show them what you’ve got. They want you there at once.”

“This is a huge honor.”

Coach chuckles. “Tell that to your new coach.”

“I mean, it was an honor working for you too. You’ve been incredible. You’ve taught me so much.”

“That’s more like it. Though you might be back. I’ve seen it often enough. You’re a fantastic player, Noah. I mean it. You’ll get an e-mail from the Blizzards with details.”

I toss clothes into my bright orange duffel bag as joy explodes through me.

Everything has changed.

I let out a whoop that causes my roommates to holler. Then my breath quickens, I’m going to meet Finn Carrington.

I’ll be working out beside him.

Seeing him.

Maybe talking to him.

My mouth dries, and my hands shake as I continue to pack.

CHAPTER THREE

Finn

Boston Harbor has gone gray and miserable. Storm clouds race over the sky, shifting shapes and darkening. White boats bob up and down from my floor-to-ceiling windows. Maybe there will even be lightning. Lightning is awesome.

I give Alexa some orders, and the light inside dims in my favorite way, turning the LED strips tucked under the crown molding a soft purple. Moody meditation music starts like I’m somewhere in Bali. The camera light flashes on. I am live.

I chat about meditation, then do a meditation for my viewers.

My life is the best.

Some people think being a top player is about exercising and practicing game moves. And those are super important and super fun. But my mind and nutrition must also be optimal.

The truth is, one reason why vlogging is awesome, is that I have something to occupy my mind with. I don’t exactly need a three-bedroom luxury apartment that faces Boston Harbor, though it comes in handy when I throw parties, which is often. I’m having one tonight.

But I have no intention of wandering my apartment morosely and contemplating my bruises and injuries and worrying about upcoming games, which so might happen if I didn’t have this to distract myselfwith.

The sky darkens, then hockey players and puck bunnies swarm my apartment.

“Finn!” Axel fist bumps me as he enters, and I receive shoulder slaps from Luke and Troy before they search for my alcohol.

Troy takes charge of making cocktails for everyone. He presses his thin pink lips in concentration and narrows his dark eyes. Since the chicks dig cocktails, he’s soon surrounded. Lucky dude.

My doorbell rings again. This time, my neighbor Madison stands before me, wearing a short, sparkling silver dress that shows off her legs. She swoops her thick, mascara-slathered lashes up and down. I grin as I inhale her floral perfume.

“Want me to give you a private tour?” I drawl, using my deepest voice.

She rolls her eyes. “I have a matching apartment.”

I snort.

“I need a cocktail.” Madison saunters away, and her thick dark hair tumbles along her back in an interesting manner that directs my attention to her narrow waist and not narrow bottom. Her hips wriggle, helped by her high, red-bottomed heels.