Page 49 of What If I Hate You (Anaheim Stars Hockey #6)

CHAPTER THIRTY

BARRETT

T he guys are scattered across the locker room, half-dressed after practice, phones in hand. But for once, they’re not checking game stats or fantasy scores. They’re reading Blakely’s post.

“She just nuked Sports News Network from orbit,” Oliver says, whistling low.

“Yeah, and it’s beautiful,” Griffin adds, grinning at his phone. “Check the comments. People are eating it up.”

I’ve already read it three times. My chest is tight in a way that has nothing to do with the workout I just finished.

Every word is her. Bold, fearless, and painfully honest about the crap she’s endured being the only woman in the press box.

She didn’t hold back on her network, either.

She called out the double standards, the casual sexism, the condescension.

And she did it without losing the love she has for the sport or the respect she shows to the players.

She also made sure to compliment the Anaheim Stars franchise for not giving in to sexism in the workplace and for respecting her for her ability to press the players on their plays and decisions as she sees them without prejudice.

That’s what makes this post so damn good. That’s what makes it her.

My phone buzzes in my hand. It’s Marlee calling from upstairs. I answer, still watching the comments scroll like wildfire.

“Hey Mar. What’s up? Are you reading these comments? Our girl is on fire!”

“Barrett…” Her voice is hushed and quick and immediately my smile falls.

Oh fuck.

“She’s here,” Marlee says on the other line. “Blakely’s here. Outside my office. You might want to get up here.”

I’m already running, pushing past the locker room door in nothing but a pair of warm-up shorts and no shirt, my phone pressed tightly against my ear.

“Fuck, Marlee. Is she in trouble?”

“Just get up here. She needs you.”

“Shit,” I mumble, feeling my heart drop into my chest. “I’m on my way.”

By the time I get upstairs to Marlee’s office I’m nearly out of breath but I spot my girl standing by the window. Her phone is held in one hand, the other is pressed over her mouth.

“Blakely?” I say her name quietly but with the internal resolve to make sure she knows she’s done nothing wrong. However, SNN spins this, I’ll be damned if I let them take her down. I’ll call every fucking lawyer on this side of the country to take down the assholes at that piece of shit network.

She finally turns from the window, her eyes huge and red as if she’s been crying.

Fucking hell.

Who do I have to kill?

“What’s wrong?” My stomach twists until she looks at me—really looks—and then her lips part.

“They offered me a job.” Her voice is breathless, disbelieving.

My brows furrow as I watch her expression turn from one of shock to one of pure joy. “Who offered you a job?”

“The Anaheim Stars want me as their full-time broadcast commentator,” she explains, squealing softly with excitement. It’s almost as if she’s scared to say it out loud in case it’s not really true.

“Wait…what?”

She’s not in trouble?

I glance at Marlee standing against the door with her arms over her chest, her lips folded in to keep from laughing. She slips me a wink and a helpless shrug.

What the fuck?

“I know!” Blakely shrieks, waving her hands in front of her face like she’s willing herself not to cry.

“The Stars offered me exclusive coverage for the franchise. And because,” she waves a hand between us, cheeks flushing, “our relationship is public, they’re letting me keep full editorial integrity.

I’ll still have independence and I’ll still be able to call the games as I see them. ”

For a second, I can’t speak. I’m too busy memorizing her. Her hair is messy from the wind, her eyes alive in a way I haven’t seen in weeks, shoulders squaring like she’s finally allowed to stand at her full height.

“Blakely…” I step closer, lowering my voice so it’s just for her. “You didn’t just win, babe. You changed the fucking game.”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say yes,” I tell her, grinning now because there’s no way in hell I’m letting her talk herself out of this. “Say yes and own that booth like you’ve fucking owned every damn second in the press room.”

“I agree,” Marlee states, watching the both of us with amusement in her eyes. “You should totally say yes so you can officially be part of the Anaheim family and then you and I can be together forever doing what we love to do. What we’ve wanted to do for most of our lives.”

“Yes!” she exclaims. “Yes, yes yes! All the yes!”

Her smile breaks wide, and before I can think, I’ve got her in my arms, lifting her off the floor. She laughs against my neck, pure joy, and I swear I’ve never been more certain of anything—hockey, life, whatever—that she was meant for this.

And me? I’d do anything to see her keep winning.

I set her down reluctantly, still caught in the high of her victory and the rhythm of her laughter.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” I say, my heart racing, not just from the thrill of watching her succeed but from this undeniable electric connection sparking back to life between us. “I love you so much.”

She steps back, her eyes sparkling with mischief and delight. “Are you sure you’re okay with it?” There’s a hint of uncertainty in her voice that makes me want to shake my head in disbelief. How could she think for even a second that I’d hold her back?

“Blakely,” I say, moving closer, my voice dropping to a softer tone. “This is your moment. You’ve earned every bit of this opportunity, and if anything, I’ll be the one cheering the loudest from the sidelines.”

“You say that now,” she hesitates, biting her lips the way she does when she’s about to be vulnerable. “But will you still be cheering when I’m commentating on how badly you let a few pucks through your crease? Or how your lateral movement could use some work?”

I let out a hearty laugh.

“Let’s be real, Rivers. I’m gonna let in a couple more than a few,” I say, leaning in closer, letting the teasing tone draw her eyes back to mine.

The way she bites her lips is my favorite distraction.

It’s the perfect mixture of confidence and vulnerability, and I can’t help but want to close the distance.

She shakes her head, a knowing smirk dancing on her lips. “I appreciate the support, but I can’t promise I won’t go hard on you when the cameras are rolling.” There’s a challenge in her gaze now, a fire that I’ve always found irresistible.

“Good,” I reply, my heart racing. “I want your commentary to be as fierce as your reporting. I want you to keep them on their toes, just like you did with that article. No holding back, remember?”

Her eyes widen slightly, a hint of awe mixed with determination. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

I nod, letting the weight of my sincerity wash over us. “I’ve seen you turn every obstacle into an opportunity, and this is just another chapter. You’re not just a pretty face in the booth. You're a force to be reckoned with. Don’t you ever forget that.”

The air thickens between us, charged with something electric and I can feel the tightening in my chest—and in my shorts—as I lean in and murmur, “Besides, I like you best when you’re all fired up about my performance on the ice.

The hallway outside the tunnel likes it…

my kitchen likes it…my bed likes it…and my cock, well…

” I chuckle against her ear as my words are only meant for her.

“My cock can’t wait for that first time you challenge my game play. ”

Her laughter bubbles up, sweet and rich, filling the small office like champagne fizz.

I can’t help but grin at her, at the way she glows with excitement, though a teasing edge simmers beneath my skin.

“Come on, Rivers,” I say, my voice dropping to that low, playful growl I know she loves.

“What’s life without a little competitive fire, huh? ”

“Oh, you just want to see me take you down a peg, don’t you?” she fires back, her eyebrows raised defiantly. The spark in her eyes ignites something deep within me, and I step even closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off her body.

“Always. But I’m betting you’ll find it hard to be objective when I’m wearing that tight little jersey of mine,” I tease, letting my gaze drop to her lips for a heartbeat longer than I should.

She blushes, a pink hue creeping into her cheeks, and I can’t help but feel a swell of triumph.

I love that I can catch her off guard, and ignite that spark of uncertainty alongside her confidence.

“Oh, I have no doubt I’ll find it hard, all right,” she says with a knowing snicker.

“I guess we’ll see how you feel when I’m breaking down your performance live.

Can’t let my audience think I’m biased just because you’re my boyfriend. ”

“I think you pronounced husband wrong.”

“Okay, maybe I do enjoy the thought of dissecting how you miss a few—wait…” Her grin slips from her face and she cocks her head, her brows pinching together. “What did you say?”

“I said I think you pronounced husband wrong.” I shake my head. “It’s not pronounced boy-friend anymore. Here in Anaheim, we pronounce it hus-band.”

Her lips slowly turn up into a coy smile. “Are you…?”

“You’re damn right I am.” I nod, grinning back at her.

Her eyes widen, full of surprise and something deeper. “You’re really serious?”

I nod again, my heart racing as the air between us thickens with unspoken promises.

“I’m not just going to stand by while you take this leap.

We’re in this together, Blakely. You deserve every bit of this success, and I want to be right there with you, supporting you.

Cheering you on. Loving you unconditionally. ”

“Barrett…” Her voice softens, almost pained, as if she’s grappling with the weight of my words. “I don’t want to hold you back. This is big for you too, having me out there as your girlfriend?—”

“Stop,” I cut her off, stepping even closer, my resolve firm.

“You’re not going to be my girlfriend in a press box.

You’re going to be Blakely Rivers Cunningham, my wife and the newest commentator who doesn’t let anyone forget she belongs there even if it means raking her husband against the coals when his performance suffers.

And no matter what, I’ll be the guy who shows up for you. Because I fucking love you, Blakely.”

“Barrett this is?—”

“I know I don’t have a ring in my pocket at the moment but I swear to God it’s sitting in Griffin’s apartment right now.”

Her smile widens and she laughs. “What?”

“I’ve had it for about a week now and was planning this…

I don’t know…this moment, but…” I shake my head.

“I honestly can’t think of a better moment than right here right now, so tell me you’ll marry me and let’s do this crazy life together.

I know it’s fast. I know we haven’t been together that terribly long but I know I love you.

I know you’re it for me. I don’t want anybody else so I’m done looking.

Not that I was ever really looking in the first place.

You kind of just worked your way right into my life and took my breath away…

along with part of my ego, and now I’m in love with you.

So, I want to marry you. I want to make you my wife because I don’t ever want to do life without you.

And because I love butthole pillows and need someone to be able to shop for them with me.

And because Killer needs a mommy and because we’ll make adorable head-strong babies one day.

And because you make me so unbelievably happy when you’re around. ”

“That’s not what you were saying six months ago.”

I cock my head and smile at her. “It’s not what I was saying to you six months ago, but you had my heart on day fucking one, Blakely Rivers.” I kiss her forehead and then cup her face in my hands. “So fucking tell me you’ll marry me before we have to start arguing over this too.”

She chuckles and bites her lip in that cute way I love so much. “Yes, Bear.” She smiles. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Thank fucking Christ.” My heart is racing, and I’m standing here like an idiot, a grin plastered on my face as Blakely’s laughter echoes in my ears.

I can’t believe she just said yes. The weight of her acceptance settles over me like a warm blanket, but more than that, an electric pulse runs through my veins, igniting something deeper I thought I had buried.

Everything I ever thought I wanted before pales in comparison to this moment.

“Okay, what’s next?” she asks, her eyes gleaming with mischief, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“I don’t know, Rivers. Should we plan a wedding or take a victory lap around the rink?

” I tease, but the truth is, my mind is racing.

I can almost picture it, the two of us on a frozen pond, surrounded by the glimmering lights of our favorite spots, laughing as we skate hand in hand into our future.

“Definitely a victory lap first,” she says, tossing her wild hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated flourish. “I want everyone to know I’m marrying the best goalie in the league.”

“Best goalie in the league?” I scoff, feigning offense as I cross my arms. “You’re gonna give me a big head. I might let in three instead of the usual two just to prove I’m still human.”

“Oh please, Bear, you know you’d still make those saves with a colossal ego,” she fires back, her smile bright enough to light up the entire room.

I watch her, so full of life, and a warmth spreads in my chest. This is it.

This is what I’ve always wanted. Her laughter ringing in my ears, her confidence lighting a path ahead, her hand in mine as we travel through all walks of life together.

The spitfire reporter never backed down even when I gave her hell and now…

well, now there isn’t anyone I would rather have by my side.

She’s all I need in life.

Well, Blakely, Killer, and a few good butthole pillows.

Want more of Barrett and Blakely?

Check out their epilogue HERE!

Read on for an excerpt of the final book in the Anaheim Stars series,

WHAT IF IT’S TOO LATE

Featuring Harrison Meers!