Page 31 of Slap Shot (Charm City Chill #3)

H eather

Three weeks after Travis's arrest, Heather stood in the tunnel watching the final seconds tick off the clock as the Chill secured another victory.

The arena erupted as the buzzer sounded, twenty thousand fans celebrating a team that had transformed from crisis-management mode to legitimate contender in the span of a month.

Oliver skated toward the bench with his helmet off, sweat-dampened hair catching the arena lights as he grinned at teammates who'd just witnessed him record his second hat trick of the young season.

His confidence on the ice had reached levels she'd never seen before, not the careful competence of someone trying to prove himself, but the relaxed dominance of a player who knew exactly where he belonged.

"Hell of a game," she murmured to herself, packing up her laptop while keeping one eye on the celebration unfolding below.

She spent game nights splitting attention between security monitoring and watching the game, though lately she'd been doing more of the latter.

The systems were stable, Travis and Kai were both in custody awaiting trial, and for the first time since she'd taken this job, she could actually enjoy hockey instead of constantly scanning for threats.

Tonight, she'd found herself watching Oliver more than her screens.

The way he'd threaded that impossible pass to Kane for the second goal.

The patience he'd shown setting up Dmitri's power play marker.

The pure skill of his hat trick goal, a backhand top-shelf that had left the opposing goaltender looking like he'd witnessed magic.

"Heather." Coach Vicky appeared beside her, still wearing her game-day blazer despite the controlled chaos of post-victory celebrations. "Outstanding work on the zone entry analysis. That adjustment in the second period was exactly what we needed."

"They executed it perfectly," Heather replied, noting the satisfaction in Vicky's voice. Three weeks of victories had done wonders for the coach's public standing, but more importantly, they'd proven that the team's chemistry had emerged stronger from their shared adversity.

"Oliver's playing the best hockey of his career," Vicky observed, watching him sign autographs for young fans leaning over the glass. "Whatever you two went through together, it unlocked something in him."

"He's always had the talent. Now he has the confidence to use it."

"Confidence that comes from having someone who sees all of him and chooses to stay anyway." Vicky's smile carried the wisdom of someone who understood that the best partnerships transcended their individual components. "That's rare in this business, Heather. Don't take it for granted."

As players finally headed toward the locker room, Heather made her way through the emptying arena toward the parking garage.

They'd driven separately to the game. She'd come straight from debugging a system update that had run late.

But the post-game routine of heading home together had quickly become her favorite part of game nights.

She was scrolling through her phone when familiar arms wrapped around her waist from behind, Oliver's warmth and the scent of his post-shower soap immediately making her relax against his solid chest.

"Hey, beautiful," he murmured against her ear, his voice carrying the satisfied exhaustion that came from an hour of elite-level hockey. "Miss anything good?"

"Just some guy scoring three goals and showing off for the cameras," she replied, turning in his arms to face him properly. "Though I have to admit, that backhand for the hat trick was pretty impressive."

"Pretty impressive?" Oliver's grin was pure mischief. "I think you mean devastatingly brilliant."

"I think I mean you're getting a big head from all the media attention."

"Maybe. But can you blame me?" His hands found her waist, thumbs tracing patterns through her sweater that made her pulse kick up despite being in a public parking garage.

"Best hockey of my career, no more looking over my shoulder, and the most amazing woman I've ever met waiting for me after games.

I'm feeling pretty good about life right now. "

Heather studied his face in the dim lighting, noting the complete absence of the anxiety that had marked so many of their early interactions.

The man holding her now was confident without being cocky, settled in ways that had nothing to do with hockey success and everything to do with finally accepting all parts of himself.

"Speaking of feeling good about life," she said, pulling her key fob from her pocket, "I have something to show you."

Oliver raised an eyebrow as she led him toward her car, Charlie trotting beside them with the relaxed posture of a dog whose handler was experiencing optimal emotional states. "Please tell me it's not more network security updates. My brain is barely functioning after that game."

"Better." Heather opened her passenger door to reveal a small gift bag sitting on the seat. "Consider it a hat trick celebration."

Oliver picked up the bag with curious fingers, his expression shifting to wonder as he pulled out a key attached to a simple key chain. Not just any key, a house key, unmistakably residential in design.

"Heather," he said, his voice carrying notes of hope and disbelief in equal measure.

"I know we've talked about taking things to the next level, and after tonight's game, it felt like the right time," she said, suddenly nervous about a gesture that had seemed perfectly natural when she'd had the key made that afternoon.

"And you've been staying over most nights anyway, and Charlie's already claimed the good spot by the fireplace, and I just thought—"

Oliver silenced her rambling by cupping her face in his hands and kissing her with enough intensity to make her forget they were standing in a public parking garage. When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his smile was bright enough to power the arena.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his thumb tracing along her cheekbone. "Living with a hockey player means weird schedules, road trips, probably way too much sports analysis over breakfast."

"I think I can handle it. I'm pretty good at analyzing performance data." She rose on her toes to press another quick kiss to his lips. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you eat actual vegetables instead of surviving on protein bars and good intentions."

"And someone needs to make sure you remember to sleep instead of staying up all night hunting security threats that don't exist anymore."

They drove home separately but arrived within minutes of each other, the choreography of their evening routine now as natural as breathing.

Oliver changed out of his suit while Heather queued up game highlights on her laptop, both of them gravitating toward the living room where Charlie had already claimed his favorite spot on the rug.

"Come here," Oliver said, settling onto the couch and pulling her against his side. "I want to watch you analyze my hat trick goal."

"You want to watch me work?" Heather laughed, but she curled into his warmth anyway, her laptop balanced on both their knees as she pulled up the replay.

"I want to watch you get excited about hockey data," he corrected. "It's incredibly sexy when you start talking about trajectory analysis and release points."

"Everything about hockey is sexy to you."

"Not everything. Just the parts that involve you explaining why I'm so good at it."

Heather rolled her eyes but pulled up the goal breakdown anyway, noting the precise positioning and timing that had made Oliver's shot impossible to stop.

As she pointed out the technical details that had created the scoring opportunity, Oliver's attention shifted from the screen to her face, his fingers playing with her hair in a way that made it increasingly difficult to focus on performance metrics.

"You're not paying attention," she accused, though she made no effort to move away from his touch.

"I'm paying attention to the most important thing in the room," he replied, his voice dropping to the tone that never failed to make heat pool low in her stomach.

"The most important thing in the room is your ability to process information about shooting angles and defensive positioning."

"The most important thing in the room," Oliver said, closing the laptop and setting it aside, "is the woman who taught me that I could trust someone with every part of myself and still be safe."

The honesty in his voice made something flutter in her chest. "Oliver..."

"I love you," he said simply. "Not just because you saved my career or protected the team or caught the bad guys. I love you because you see me completely, the hockey player, the former hacker, the guy who needs a service dog to function in crowded spaces, and you choose all of it."

"I choose all of it because all of it is you," Heather replied, shifting to straddle his lap so she could look directly into his dark eyes. "The brilliant analyst, the loyal teammate, the man who was brave enough to trust me with secrets that could have destroyed everything he'd built."

When she kissed him this time, it was with all the emotion she'd been holding back during weeks of careful investigation and hidden meetings. Oliver responded immediately, his hands sliding under her sweater to trace patterns on bare skin that made her gasp against his mouth.

"Bedroom?" he asked, though his hands were already working at the buttons of her blouse.

"Definitely bedroom," she agreed, though she made no move to separate from him.

They made it as far as the hallway before Oliver pushed her against the wall, his mouth finding that spot on her neck that made her knees weak while his hands finished the work of removing her shirt.

Heather tugged at his t-shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin, to eliminate every barrier between them.

"God, you're perfect," Oliver murmured, his lips tracing a path from her collarbone to the lace edge of her bra. "So fucking perfect."

"Bedroom," Heather managed, though her resolve was weakening as Oliver's hands found the clasp of her bra. "We should—"

"We should," he agreed, but instead of moving toward the bedroom, he lifted her against the wall, her legs wrapping around his waist as he kissed her with renewed intensity.

They eventually made it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind them as they stumbled through the doorway in a tangle of urgent hands and desperate mouths.

When Oliver finally laid her down on the bed, his weight settling over her like a promise, Heather felt complete in a way that had nothing to do with physical pleasure and everything to do with emotional connection.

"I love you," she said against his lips as he moved inside her, the words spilling out with each careful thrust.

"Be sure. Be certain. Be mine."

"I'm yours," she promised, and meant it with every fiber of her being.

Later, as they lay tangled together in the aftermath, while Charlie's soft snoring drifted from the living room, Heather felt the kind of contentment she'd never experienced before.

"So," Oliver said, his voice full of satisfaction and exhaustion, "living together officially now. What's our next milestone?"

"Next milestone?" Heather tilted her head to look at him, noting the way the moonlight caught the sharp line of his cheekbone.

"I'm a planner. I like to know what we're building toward."

Heather considered the question, thinking about the house key now sitting on their nightstand, the integration of their daily routines, the way Charlie had seamlessly claimed space in her previously solitary life.

"How about we start with making it through your first road trip without me panicking about network security?" she suggested. "Then maybe we can discuss long-term planning."

"Deal," Oliver agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Though for the record, I'm already planning long-term. Has been since that first night you trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms."

"What kind of long-term planning?"

"The kind that involves Charlie having a backyard to play in. And maybe a ring that matches your eyes. And definitely a wedding where all my teammates can embarrass themselves trying to give speeches."

Heather's breath caught at the casual way he'd outlined a future that sounded impossibly perfect. "You've given this a lot of thought."

"I've given you a lot of thought. Every day since I met you." Oliver's voice carried the kind of certainty that made her chest tight with emotion. "I know it's fast, and I know we've got logistics to figure out, but I want everything with you. All of it."

"Everything?"

"Everything. The house, the ring, the embarrassing teammates giving speeches at our wedding. I want to wake up next to you and argue about optimal line combinations over breakfast."

"That sounds perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Though I reserve the right to be correct about line combinations."

Oliver's laugh was warm and genuine, the sound of someone who'd found exactly what he'd been searching for without knowing he was looking. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

As they settled into sleep, Heather realized that everything she'd thought she wanted from life, career success, professional recognition, the satisfaction of solving complex problems, paled in comparison to this feeling of being completely known and unconditionally loved.

The conspiracy that had threatened to destroy them had instead brought them together.

Travis was facing federal charges, Kai was back in prison where he belonged, and the team had emerged stronger than ever.

But more importantly, she'd found something she hadn't even known she was looking for, a partner who saw all of her, accepted all of her, and loved all of her.

And that, Heather thought as sleep finally claimed her, was the real victory.