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SHOOT YOUR SHOT

Tyler

When you know what you want for, well, the rest of the foreseeable future, you want the foreseeable future to start right now.

But responsibilities get in the way.

Like games and such.

Still, when I arrive in the locker room, I set the gift for Sabrina carefully in my stall, making sure it’s safe and sound. I’m the first one here, and since I’m early, I spin around and track down Everly in her office.

Her eyes widen with surprise when she sees me, but then the polished publicist with the sleek blonde ponytail quickly says, “What can I do for you, Tyler?”

“Some of the players are doing photo opps with the VIPs, right?”

“Yes. And a quick tour. Just of the entrance to the tunnel, the locker room, the corridor. It’ll be about five minutes.

And we have them staggered right before warmups.

I had you on the list to do one,” she says, then clicks on her tablet, calling it up.

“Since you got tickets for…” She scans it, then meets my eyes like she’s impressed.

“You got a lot of tickets. Isla Marlowe, Trevyn Storm, Skylar Haven. Jasmine Morales and her parents. Tiffany Kovalenko and Anaka Kovalenko. As well as Nia Brown. Tonya Jackson. And, let’s see, a… Rhonda McConky.”

I grin, not too wide, not too proud. I invited Tonya earlier this week—she’s the repair woman who adores Sabrina.

And right after lunch I made some last-minute calls to Sabrina’s students, tracking down their names through Leighton, who’s photographed some of Sabrina’s practices with them.

I called Sabrina’s good friends. I wanted them all here tonight for her big performance and to be treated like the stars they are to her.

And I tracked down both the woman who runs the animal rescue, and the Lyft driver who helped Sabrina escape from her wedding day.

I want Sabrina to see everyone who loves her.

Including…me.

I asked Elle to come too, snagging her center-ice seats with the kids. She’s always loved hockey so she said it’s no hardship. I also told her something else…about how I’ve caught feelings for the nanny. Elle laughed and told me she already knew.

Now, I need to let Everly in on a few more details.

“But I kind of want it to be a surprise for Sabrina,” I say, a little sheepish as I sort of reveal my hand to Everly.

But she’s a pro, so she just listens as I add, “Maybe you could wait to post the photo of that group with their tour guide till after Sabrina goes on.”

She laughs softly but smiles. “Sure, Tyler. I’ll make sure Leighton knows. She’s here tonight.”

I give a virtual high-five. “Perfect. ”

“And you’ll be ready in your uniform since your tour starts at five-thirty?”

“Absolutely,” I say then, and this is the hard part.

This is the part I can’t entirely control.

But as I make small talk with Everly about the game, I give it my best shot.

I’ve got laser vision. Twenty-twenty, thank you very much.

And her tablet is resting on her lap at just the right angle for some upside-down reading.

There are four VIP groups coming tonight, and I do my best to scan the names for one in particular. Or really, two.

Finding them, I finish the chat, then thank her, and head down the management corridor and back to the authorized personnel area, where Rowan’s dropping his dog at the doggie daycare the arena opened recently. When he’s done, I catch up to him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Favor, man,” I say.

“Name it.”

“I need you to switch VIP groups with me for the tour. Can you do yours at five-thirty? And I’ll take your five-forty group.”

He gives a why not shrug. It’s that easy. “Done.”

Friends. They’ve got your back. Then I beeline for my brother in the locker room and pull him aside. “Need something from you.”

“Another ass-kicking?”

I roll my eyes. “Along those lines.” Lowering my voice, I add, “Think you can make sure Leighton keeps Sabrina out of the corridor before the five-thirty tour, then brings her to the corridor by the tunnel around, say, five-forty-four?”

My brother studies me for a beat, maybe making sure I’m not pulling a fast one. “You’ve got this mapped out down to the minute?”

“Pretty much.”

At 5:39 on the dot, I’m suited up in pads, my jersey, skates and all. Ready and waiting at the authorized personnel entrance. Rowan already finished the VIP group I invited, and Leighton must have kept Sabrina occupied. Now all I have to do is handle the douche tour.

A minute later, Everly swings open the door, and a kernel of guilt wedges into my chest. I hope she doesn’t hate me for what’s about to go down. But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Besides, these fuckers don’t deserve to pay their way into our arena, no matter what the cost is.

For the first time I come face-to-face with the man Sabrina was going to marry. With slicked back blond hair and a smarmy smile, he’s precisely what I pictured. He’s wearing stone-washed jeans and a jersey for another team. The Las Vegas Sabers. And yeah, I don’t feel an ounce of guilt.

He sticks out a hand. “Dude, I wish I could say I’m rooting for you tonight, but you gotta be loyal to the home team, right?”

I shake, crunching on his bones so hard he gulps. “You know it,” I say, letting go before I break something.

I swing my gaze to her father, like I’m assessing an opponent on the ice. He wears pressed khakis and a button-down. His dark hair is peppered with gray and his shave is smooth. I loathe him with every fiber of my being, and I don’t bother doing a thing but staring at him with knives in my eyes.

He flinches, and recognition flickers in his irises for a beat. I wonder if he’s going to mention his daughter to me, but instead he flicks a piece of unseen lint off his shoulder.

That’s fine by me. I’m up for the element of surprise too.

“And here is your group, Tyler,” Everly says to me, then to the pack of dude bros with them—because holy fuck—Chad and Sabrina’s Dad brought out a six-pack of asshats.

I can tell their breed by the overwhelming aroma of body spray and the heads of gelled hair.

Plus, all these guys have that dude bro look to them. So, fuck them.

“This is Tyler Falcon, number forty-four, one of our top defensemen,” Everly says. “He’ll be conducting your tour.”

“Thanks, Everly,” I say, then gesture down the hall. “Let me show you gentlemen around.” Even though that title is a lie.

They’re all sales-y types, showboat-y, snapping pics of themselves against posters of the Sea Dogs in the hall, cracking jokes about how lucky the Sea Dogs are to have them as VIP fans, and maybe they can pick up women at the game like the players must, then trying to peer into the locker room, even though it’s off-limits.

“But we could just pretend we’re on the team, right?” Chad says, and I want to wipe the smug smile off his face.

But all in due time.

“Probably not,” I say, with my most charming fucking voice possible. “Or we might have to get the whole team to escort you out.”

He blinks. “You’d do that?”

“You have no idea what I’d do,” I say coldly, meaning it completely, then adding a just kidding smile. Since it’s not quite time yet.

Almost, but not quite.

I guide them down the hall toward the tunnel. “And this is the tunnel. We go through here before we hit the ice. And yep, you can walk on the floor with skates.”

“Impressive,” Sabrina’s father says, eyeing the sturdy floor, tapping it with his wingtips as he finally speaks for the first time. “Truly impressive everything that goes into the operation. Isn’t it, gentlemen?”

And…he’s even worse than I’d imagined. He truly only cares about appearances. About impressing people—wh oever these frat boys are snapping endless pics of their annoying faces.

There’s no remorse in me for what I’m about to do.

Right on time, I clear my throat. “Thanks again for coming. There are just a few things I wanted to share before the game tonight,” I say, and the men stop cracking jokes and turn to me right as I hear footsteps grow louder.

Sneakers for sure. Along with boots, I think.

Sabrina would still be in her warm-up clothes, so I’m praying the sneakers are hers, and that Leighton’s wearing the boots.

“What’s that, man?” Chad asks, all convivial as he plays leader of the pack.

I want to march right up to him and wring his neck. But there’s a time for words and a time for deeds. This is a time for words.

I step closer, raise my forefinger. “You are the biggest fool I’ve ever met.

You had the most incredible, wonderful, amazing woman ever, and by some twist of luck or fate, she agreed to marry your lying, cheating ass.

And then you had the gall to treat her like she was an accessory.

A means to an end. A path to a fucking bonus.

You don’t deserve VIP seats. You don’t deserve nice things ever.

And she always deserved better than you.

I’m so damn glad she figured that out before she wasted another second on you. ”

“Dude, burn!” one of the other guys says, the one drenched in Ocean Forest Mist Dragon Sword Slayer spray.

What a great friend.

Chad just sputters, his eyes bugging out. “Who are you to talk to me like that?”

I take one step closer and I tower over him. “I’m the guy who knows how to treat a woman.”

“Well, you certainly don’t know how to treat a VIP or my daughter.” That’s her father, his voice strong, menacing as he cuts in .

But I’m ready for him. I’ve always been ready for assholes like him. I turn away from Chad Huntington, facing David Snow—the real enemy. Chad is just a figurehead. David Snow is the king on the throne of awful parenting.

No idea if Sabrina’s here or not to witness her fantasy.

But it’s now or never. “You don’t get to act like you were some supportive father.

You ripped your daughter apart every chance you had, including on her wedding day.

And including the other day,” I say, stalking even closer so he can feel threatened, like he made his daughter feel every damn day growing up.

“Do not ever come to our house again,” I say, going out on a limb with the ours because I want my home to be hers as well.

“Do not ever set foot on our property. And do not ever act like you have a single say in her life. You made her feel like she wasn’t good enough,” I say, then take a breath, gearing up to give him the full piece of my mind.

But the prick cuts in, hissing: “Who do you think you are to talk to me that way? I paid good money for these seats and to treat our clients. You can’t get away with this.”

“But I can, and I will. And I will cover the cost of your seats and donate it to charity. You don’t scare me.

I know men like you. I was raised by a man like you.

And you lost out on an amazing, kind, caring woman as your daughter.

It’s your fault. Yours . You don’t deserve to be a father.

But thanks to you, if she’ll have me, I will never stop making sure Sabrina Snow knows how much she is worth—and that’s everything. ”

I take a breath, expecting him to try to butt in once more.

But the next voice I hear is feminine. And as strong as ice. “I believe it’s time for you to leave. And don’t ever come back.”

I spin around as Sabrina delivers the send-off message, like she’s heave-ho-ing this pair of assholes and their moron henchmen off the plank.

And maybe I wasn’t making it up earlier about the team escorts, since Rowan, and Ford, and Miles and Max, and Wesley and Asher are all right behind me, standing guard, just in case.

“We’ll see them out,” Miles says in that no-nonsense captain voice of his.

Like a hockey mafia, my teammates—who are pretty much family one way or another—escort them to the exit, while Leighton disappears down the hall, giving us space.

I’m alone with Sabrina in the tunnel before the game. Her lips are parted. Her eyes are shining. She’s…speechless, and I fucking love it.

“Did you hear everything?” I ask, my heart beating so fast.

“Every word,” she says, like she’s drunk on them.

Good. I think I am too. “I meant it all,” I say, including the three words I should have said a while ago, but no time like the present.

But the moment shatters before it starts when Everly races down the hall, beelining for me, her shoes clicking loudly. “Did you just kick out our VIPs?”

I can see my player just caused a PR disaster in her big brown eyes.

I shrug. “I did, but one of them was a cheating asshole and the other was king of the assholes. So I don’t feel bad.”

“He was standing up for me,” Sabrina says, like she’s thrilled to back me up. Like we’re a team. “They were honestly pretty awful, and he did the right thing by getting rid of them.”

She sounds enchanted, and that’s what I was going for.

Everly winces, but then takes a deliberate long breath, as if calming herself.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll spin it. I’ll say there was some history.

I’ll explain that heated words were said, but no one was hurt.

That sometimes emotions run high before games.

I’ll handle it,” she says, cool and calm, taking over the potential PR mess .

“Thank you,” I say, genuinely grateful because I didn’t make it easy for her. “Because I need to handle something else?—”

“Time for warmups, boys. Let’s hit the ice.”

I groan at the sound of Coach’s voice and the herd of hockey players thundering behind me. My brother waggles my stick and helmet my way, a look in his eyes that says time to hit the ice now .

I grab my gear from him, but turn back to Sabrina, still standing, pressed against the wall in the tunnel. Eyes still sparking with…possibility.

The same possibility I feel down to my marrow.

I’d planned to wait till later, but sometimes you have to shoot your shot when it comes your way.

“I love you, Sabrina Snow,” I say, then I hit the ice.