Page 1 of Unrivaled Love (D.C. Renegades #2)
From Rink Rat to The Big Show
PROLOGUE
Holy shit. Can you believe this?
It’s almost too much to process.
Almost.
Are your tits tingling in anticipation?
Yeah, you like that don’t you.
Okay, I’ll stop being a tease.
Even though I can tell you’d be into it.
Are you ready?
Here it is.
We won.
The. Fucking. Cup.
Look around with me and soak it all in!
It’s crazy right?
Fuck, I’m tired.
"You did it!" My dad's congratulations are muffled as he smushes his face into my shoulder pads .
That's gotta stink.
But right now my smelly gear is more like a garden of roses than a moldy banana peel stuck to a jock strap because we won The Fucking Cup.
We’re standing around on the ice, surrounded by teammates, family, friends and nothing else in the world matters more than the fourteen wins it took for us to get here. And the eighty-two games before that. And all the training and practices, conditioning, travel, and, fuck, I’m exhausted.
But I can’t stop laughing.
“And the MPV no less!” My dad’s hands bracket my grin as he basically yells in my face. We can expect some exuberance at this moment right? He plants a smooch on my forehead and releases me.
Can you believe this is actually happening?
This is even better than I could have imagined.
And, I have dreamed about this moment. I’ve dedicated my life to this sport.
I want to fist bump the kid who took countless shots at the garage door, the basement wall, or the playground fence all while pretending to be in a clutch championship game moment.
With a chuckle, I bend down to hug my mom who has tears freely rolling down her cheeks. For years my parents supported me as I learned the game and never once doubted we’d be meeting on the ice to celebrate this victory.
My older brother and sister are next. They complained like all siblings do when we traveled far and wide for tournaments but I know, for a fact, they ate hundreds of Otis Spunkmeyer cookies from concession stands throughout North America and were some of the first kids to own a portable DVD player and then tablets to keep them entertained.
Don’t let them fool you, it wasn’t all bad.
My sister’s nose crinkles because, yeah, I smell like old fish that thawed and got thrown back into the freezer a minute ago. I give her some breathing room and I look back to find my mom wiping her eyes. My dad slings his arm around her with glassy eyes too.
We must be something to look at .
I’m not uncomfortable with emotion but I’m unsure what to do with the mix of them coursing through my body right now. I’m on top of the world but could also climb into bed and sleep for a month. Have you ever felt this?
"How are you feeling champ?" My older brother Mason asks, interrupting your chance to answer.
"Good. Giddy!" I giggle. "This is un-fucking-real."
"You've worked so hard," my mom starts and more tears come than words. My sister, Kaitlyn, heads over to console her.
"Yeah Mom, I have. But you have too. This is yours as much as mine."
"Absolutely, it is." Kaitlyn says. "I didn't spend my childhood as a rink rat for you not to win the big show."
"Big dance." Mason corrects her.
"Wrong sport." I pile on.
Are your siblings like this too?
"Soak it all in, son." Dad says with a hand to my shoulder again.
Even with my skates on he's eye level. The man has given me everything, every opportunity imaginable.
He was the parent giving his time to me for tournaments and practices.
His attention before and after games. And his advice when I was willing to hear it.
You know, because sometimes you just don’t want to hear it from your parents.
And I love the man. Deeply. The only thing I wish he’d shared with me was his height.
Mason got it.
Kaitlyn too.
I’m only taller than Kaitlyn right now because I’ve got my skates on.
Me? It’s pretty obvious just by looking at me, and it definitely doesn’t rub a sore spot to remind you.
But for the sake of the story I’ll lay it out again.
I inherited all of mom’s height which means I clock in at a solid 5’10”, putting me on the short end of the locker room.
Of every locker room I’ve ever been in. I didn’t even get lucky with an early growth spurt.
Nope, back in the tween days I was the last one to reach my full height and I always kept hoping a few more inches would come.
They haven’t.
Mom leans into my side again and I guess now isn’t the time to ruminate on my vertical challenges.
We just won it all.
I look around at my teammates on the D.C.
Renegades. They’re celebrating with their families around the ice.
I smile and it only wilts for a moment when I catch sight of the guys lucky enough to have their girls here in their arms. Our game-winning goalie, Aiden Youngren is holding his girl Harper Daniels up as she wraps her legs around him.
Johnny Sawyer somehow got his financé Caroline up on his back over all his pads and is skating her around the boards.
Vlad holds a kid in each arm as he kisses his wife Ivanna who is holding their newborn against her chest.
Even Coach Bradford has his daughter Tilly sandwiched between him and his wife Danielle.
Damn, I'd love nothing more than to lift the one who got away by the thighs and show her off to the world, sharing this achievement with her.
But no, the girl I can't get over has been avoiding me for seven years and she's not the type to be impressed by a championship anyway.
She's too busy chasing her own.