Page 143 of The Play Maker

I don’t let myself look yet. Not until the final buzzer blares and the crowd fucking explodes as we win 4-1.

I rip my helmet off and skate in to tackle Ryan in a hug. Logan jumps on both of us, crushing me in the process. Cole just stands there watching us, the corner of his lips lifting an inch before he skates off.

Nathan gives me a shoulder bump once we’re back on our feet, smiling under his mask.

My heart is racing with adrenaline and I finally allow myself to glance up and look for them.

I spot Mom and Scarlett first.

They’re near the top of the stands, bundled in scarves and puffer coats, holding up a massive glittery-ass sign that reads RHODES RAGE in all caps, with sparkles. I let out a breathless laugh, skating in lazy circles during our cool-down, wondering where the hell I’m going to store that thing—because of course I’m keeping it.

And then my eyes find my girl, halfway down the bleacher steps, weaving through the crowd. She’s looking down, focused on not tripping over someone’s feet, and then she glances up.

Her eyes lock on mine. Just for a second.

And my heart thuds against my chest.

I hear you, buddy.I know.

I tear off my gloves the second we hit the tunnel, still high off the win, sweaty, and half-grinning like an idiot. My ribs are sore. My legs are shot. But none of it matters. Not when she’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me.

“You were amazing,” she says the moment I reach her.

I can’t spend a minute away from her, clearly, because the minute she’s in front of me, I grab her face in my hands and lean down to kiss her. “You came,” I breathe against her lips.

“Of course I came,” she replies breathlessly, blinking up at me. “I will always come for you.”

I can’t help it. My lips tip up in a smirk and I wag my brows at her. “Oh yeah?”

She smacks my chest lightly, rolling her eyes. “Don’t make this weird.”

I laugh, running a hand through my hair which is drenched. “It’s already weird. Because my mom and sister are here, and they really want to meet you.”

Her face goes pale. “Wait. What? Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Because if I told you, you’d freak out, and if you freaked out, you wouldn’t come, and then I’d have to explain to my mom why the girl I’m obsessed with doesn’t actually exist.”

She blinks slightly, her pretty lips lifting into a shy smile. “You’re obsessed with me?” she asks, as if she heard me wrong.

“Painfully,” I assure her, lace my fingers through hers. “Come on, it’ll be fine. They’re normal.” I pause, squinting at her. “Ish.”

“Austin,” Maisie hisses, her eyes flicking down to her outfit. “I’m not dressed to meet your mom.”

My eyes drift down—black hoodie, jeans, knockout body that makes my mouth water. “You look beautiful,” I tell her.

She shakes her head, a cute flush coating her cheeks. “You’re biased.”

“Exactly. I’m the only opinion that matters.” I grab her hand, lift it, and kiss the back of it. “You’re good, baby. I promise.”

“I’m scared,” she admits, swallowing hard. “I don’t want her to hate me.”

“She won’t.” I tug her a little closer. “My mom doesn’t hate anyone. Least of all her son’s first girlfriend.”

Maisie blushes, smiling at that word. It was a shock when she first called me her boyfriend, but nothing has ever felt so right either.

I rip my eyes away from her when I see my sister standing under the stairs. Mom’s standing beside her, bundled up in her coat, waving us over. We head toward them, and Maisie’s grip on my hand tightens just a little.

“There’s my boy,” Mom says, pulling me in for a hug. “That was one hell of a game.”