Page 144 of Trick Shot

“He’s gonna cry.”

Aiden ignores them all.

“No, seriously, shut the fuck up, this is important.” He waves the beer can, spraying a little foam, and holds up a hand like a drunk priest about to deliver a sermon.

“First of all, first pre-season win, bitches!”

A round of whoops and clinking beers fills the room.

“Second of all…” He pauses, swaying slightly. “I just wanna take a moment to appreciate the brick wall we’re lucky enough to have as a goalie. Zed fucking Mercer.”

“Fuck yeah, Zed!” A roar of agreement explodes.

I glance across the room where Zed is leaning against the kitchen island. He lifts his glass slightly toward us and barely gives us a smile—just a tilt of acknowledgment with a twitch of his lips.

It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from the guy.

Aiden clutches his chest like he just witnessed a miracle. But he’s not done.

“But seriously,” he says, wiping a fake tear off his cheek, “we all knew this season was gonna start hot. But what I didn’t know was that our golden boy defenseman…”

He turns dramatically toward me.

“…was gonna fall in love.”

Oh fuck.

Melody stiffens beside me.

The entire room turns in our direction like a spotlight’s been dropped on the couch. The whole room erupts—cheers, whistles, someone slams their beer against the table like a judge with a gavel.

I lean back, arm slung over the backrest, Melody curled into my side.

“Madly,” I add with a smile. My jaw’s already aching, my busted lip split again from laughing.

“Clearly.” He holds up his hand like he’s a lawyer making closing arguments. “Because not only is Jace in love, but he got fined for it.”

Aiden wipes under his eye again, completely full of shit.

“To our goalie Zed, our lover boy Jace, to us, the Miami fucking Blazers. May this be the beginning of our blaze of terror.”

Everyone cheers as Aiden salutes and immediately slips off the chair—but somehow lands on his feet.

The music thunders back to life, the party surges on, and everyone returns to whatever the hell they were doing.

“Well, that was dramatic,” I chuckle, lifting Melody’s hand to bring the glass she’s holding to my lips.

She glances over her shoulder, scanning the room. I don’t have to ask to know what she’s doing—she’s looking for Dom, eyes tracking his voice across the house. And when she confirms he’s not looking, she turns back and grabs my face. Her hands are soft, her grip is firm, and there’s no hesitation. She kisses me—hard, and very public.

And I’m so caught off guard, I forget about the fucking split in my lip until she bites down.

“Fuck,” I hiss, jerking slightly.

“Shit, sorry.” She pulls back, wide-eyed.

“You trying to finish what Dom started?” I smirk, licking the blood off the edge of my mouth.

“Oh, did I forget your poor little battle wound?” She grins, not even pretending to feel bad now.