Page 38 of The Alternate Captain (Elite Hockey #3)

I get a text from Mike to meet him outside the dressing room after the game, with instructions to look for Vicky, Johnny’s sister, as she’ll get me to where I need to go.

I spot her when there are a few minutes left on the clock—just before the guys are ready to progress to the Challenge Cup finals—she beckons for me to head down to the barrier and then instructs some security guy to let me through.

The stench of cold and sweat hits my nose, but it’s one of the few times where I can’t focus on it enough to be repulsed.

I’m shaking with anticipation because it’s either going to be news that he’s made the preliminary roster for Team GB, or that Johnny’s told him—but Johnny couldn’t have told him since they’ve both been out on the ice tonight.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Vicky says, flashing a smile. “We didn’t get a chance to meet each other properly last time.”

She looks at me with a glint in her eye and I see it straight away.

She knows .

But she grins and slips away, leaving me standing here, awkwardly waiting for the end of the game.

And then the final buzzer sounds and the nerves kick up a notch. Because I’m shaking now. Trembling with worry—and I hate surprises, so this is a nightmare.

The post-game awards begin, and I spot Johnny and his vacant smile as he involves himself in conversation with some of the guys from the opposition.

It’s one of the smiles he does when he’s acting. It’s the smile of the ‘Alternate Captain’—except there’s an ‘A’ stitched on his jersey. My heart drops. He really is the Alternate Captain.

“And tonight’s ‘Man of the Match’ award...”

I don’t even pick up who wins it, because my head is spinning. Why would he give up his captaincy? And why didn’t Mike mention it?

I run it over in my head, right up until the bench door opens, followed by the heavy sound of skates on the rubber matting.

Then he’s there. Towering over me in his gear.

Tom would jizz in his pants right now, because Johnny is really fucking handsome—all hot and sweaty and tall. He’s really tall.

“Hey,” Johnny’s voice cuts through the music that’s blasting over the PA system.

I don’t even know what to say to him, because I was expecting Mike to be the first one to greet me. But he looks... different, somehow. And he beams at me. His face lights up. And my stomach becomes so light it’s floating.

He puts his helmet and gloves down on the floor next to us before tugging his jersey off, his underlayer tight over his torso. His eyes lock on mine as he hands it to me, damp with sweat and completely disgusting—but I take it from him.

“This is for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. You came to a game,” he says, still smiling .

“I wanted you to know that I’m still waiting for you,” I say, my voice shaking.

“I’m really fucking glad,” he says. “Because I told him. Long story short. He saw the note you left me and—”

“Oh, fuck.”

“I was telling him anyway,” he says, stepping right up towards me. “I told him I’m in love with you.”

There’s an emotion bubbling through me I can’t even comprehend.

Did he just say—

“Did you just say—”

“I love you. I really fucking love you.”

And sweaty hockey player or not, I step towards him, closing the gap. “And Mike?”

“Jelly!”

The word flies through the air, and I glance over at my brother. My cheeks flame red.

Shit.

“Mike, I—”

“I got selected for the preliminary roster, Kel!”

And there’s an almost deafening roar of cheers and excited chatter as the rest of the team leaves the ice. Mike edges closer, pushing Johnny aside so he can scoop me up into a hug.

“Does he make you happy? Cap, I mean. Does he?”

“Yes.”

He nods once, then turns to Johnny. “Do I need to remind you about the leg breaking thing... because—”

“Got it,” Johnny snaps.

Then Mike steps away, joining the back of the line towards the dressing room, leaving Johnny and I standing alone, bar the support staff.

“I love you,” he says again. “And I’m sorry for being such a fucking—”

“I love you,” I say, and then he leans down and touches my cheek with his rough hand that he pulled right out of his glove—still moist and sweaty.

But I don’t care that he stinks. My lips find his sticky, clammy face, and I still don’t care.

I really don’t. I don’t know how long we kiss for, but I pull away, taking in a deep breath before speaking. “And I need you.”

“Like, need me?” he says, in a voice that needs no explanation.

“Well, yeah, but I need a pep talk. For Monday. Because this is big, Johnny. And I need you.”

“I got you, beautiful. Give me, like, twenty minutes and I’ll be out.”

What’s weird is that when Johnny emerges from the dressing room and heads straight for me, I don’t feel awkward.

And no one bats an eye when he lifts me up and swings me in a circle.

“Do you need the pep talk now or do you fancy celebrating with the team?”

“I—”

The nerves swim in my stomach because this is completely different territory. But he gives me a reassuring squeeze of the hand and I nod, letting him lead the way.

And celebrate we do.

We cheer Danny and Mike as they make it to the bar which Johnny selected for the evening.

“I gave Danny the ‘C’ for this reason,” he says. “Because I know it’d be the icing on the cake for him, so to speak. Give him the boost he needs to be really seen.”

And Johnny—the most selfless person I know, with a heart the size of the world, kisses me, right there, in front of everyone.

And no one pays us any attention—at least, I don’t think they do. Because I’m all about Johnny.