Page 30 of Whirlwind (Seattle Blades #4)

I skate behind the net, crashing into Svetsky, our sticks battling for control of the puck.

The regular season is coming to a close.

If we win this game, we clinch our playoff position.

We’re tied in overtime; whoever scores first, wins.

I want that win. We all do, of course, but Colorado isn’t a contender in post-season play.

Their win would only mean we have to fight that much harder to secure our place.

Fuck that.

I jostle the puck loose, passing it off to Wallin, who keeps control down the ice.

Then, it’s my turn to take a break on the bench.

This was a long shift—I could use the breather.

Cillian hops the boards, beelining it to where Wallin and Letty pass the puck back and forth, waiting for a clear path to goal.

Colorado’s defenseman tries to get in his way, but Wylder anticipates it, maneuvering around him. He finds a clear line, and Wallin passes to him. The timing is perfect; their goalie’s line of sight blocked as Cill shoots…and scores!

The bench erupts, along with the spattering of Seattle fans in the stands. If this were a home game, it would be so loud we wouldn’t be able to hear ourselves over the crowd. Whatever, though—securing a playoff spot is fucking amazing no matter where we are.

It’s been years since I’ve been in a real run for the cup. The last time, we were taken out in the first round. The time before that was the same. The Blades have won it once. I hope, more than anything, they get it again this season and I’m here with them through it all.

It’s been my biggest dream for as long as I can remember.

Every hockey player dreams of that, of course.

It’s hard to remember when it’s within reach, though.

It’s impossible to believe anyone could want it as badly as me.

And it’s easier to lie to yourself that you deserve it more, have worked harder than everyone else.

The competitive drive digs in deep, takes a firm hold, becomes your sole focus.

The chase is all I know. Seems I’m always chasing something—the NHL, the cup, a woman.

“Great job getting that puck away from Svetsky,” Cillian says once we’re in the locker room and the excited chatter has calmed down.

“Thanks, and nice shot. Heading to playoffs feels better than I remember.”

“It’s been a spell since you’ve had a post-season.”

“Too fucking long,” I agree. “Not much I want in life. The cup is one of the few.”

“I remember that feeling well,” he says. “Even after you get it—after you get everything else you want—you find something new to want. A second cup, a third…that, I don’t think, ever changes.”

“It’s not enough?” I ask. I understand always chasing the championship—that’s the biggest part of our job, after all. But when you have the rest—a wife, a kid, a family to love, success, wealth—is it still not enough?

“It’s more than enough. I have everything important,” he says. “Competition never leaves, though. That sticks. I always want another year on the cup, better stats, or to break someone else’s record.”

“I guess I can understand that.”

“You’ll see soon enough. We’ll get there, I have a feeling,” Letty chimes in. “And my feelings never fail.”

“I’d say that sounds creepy as fuck, man,” Cillian says. “Except you’ve said that shit before and it’s always been true.”

“My ma was a witch. I get it from her,” he says with a toothless grin.

“Jesus, you’re scary.”

“Good,” he says to me, adding a maniacal laugh as he heads toward the shower.

“For the life of me, I’ll never understand how he finds women to sleep with him, let alone talk to him,” Hugo says. “Speaking of women, I hear you’re bringing Kit Kat to the gala.”

“She’s agreed to be seen with me, yeah.”

“Of course she has, fucking Pretty Boy,” he says. “You better watch out, though. Odette’s suiting me—I’m going to be dashing as hell. So, we’ll see if she agrees to leave with me.”

“You can try, fucker. But don’t forget, I like to fight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, smiling. “For real, though, I’m happy for you.”

“Me too,” Cillian adds. “Kit’s good people.”

“She’s amazing, man. Probably the bravest person I’ve ever known. And so fucking smart.”

“She’s like a walking encyclopedia,” he agrees. “It blows my mind how much she knows about the most random things.”

“Yeah, her mind is always working. A couple of times, I’ve woken up in the middle of the night to find her wide awake and researching some crazy thing. The other night it was black holes; the time before that, she was near tears reading about the ivory black market.”

“She told me she doesn’t sleep much,” he says.

“She doesn’t. A few hours here and there, mostly. She’s slept through a few times, now, though.”

“How are you dealing with that?” Zander asks, taking his seat on the bench across from us. Concern shows—his mouth a slight frown.

“It’s fine,” I say. “Once I know she’s good, I fall right back to sleep. You know how it is—you learn to sleep when you can with a schedule like ours.”

“I don’t just mean the sleeping situation,” he says. “Kit struggles with change and spontaneity. You seem the opposite.”

“I mean, yeah. I’m very much a go-with-the-flow type who will happily dive into whatever comes up.

I know that’s not her, though. She’s a homebody who’d rather pop on a video game than go out for a night on the town with a crowd.

And I don’t mind that at all,” I say. I’ve never believed that couples need to live in each other’s pockets.

It’s healthy to have not only your own interests but shared ones, too.

“I don’t expect her to come work out with me or go play golf.

Hanging out with her is relaxing, forces me to take time to just… I don’t know…be.”

“And if you got traded again?” Zander asks.

“Fuck, man. I just got here—I don’t even want to think about that.”

“I hear you, but that would be very difficult for her.”

“To be fair, that would be hard for Isla or Willa, too,” Cillian says. “All of our women have roots here.”

“True,” Zander agrees. “Willa’s strong enough to handle it, but she’d hate being away from her family.”

“Fuck, I think I’d rather retire, at this point. That would be easier than asking Isla and Sadie to move away,” Cillian says.

Shock is my first reaction. I’ve never heard a player say anything like that.

Everyone normally says some version of we’d figure it out , because we all know it’s part of the gig.

We could be traded at any time, without notice, and for those who have a wife or girlfriend, the weight of a move falls on them.

They’re the ones who have to pack up, sell the old place, find a new one, re-establish any career they may have in a new location—not to mention finding new friends or whatever—while we would just be thrown into the only work we’ve ever known.

My shock fades to understanding of just how much Cillian Wylder loves his family. I haven’t doubted his commitment to them for a long while now, but him saying he’d give up his career for them cements that, for sure.

It’s one more thing to be jealous of the guy for.

My entire body freezes in the doorway when Kit opens to my knocking. Dragging my eyes over her from head to toe, I start the climb back up even slower.

“I knew this dress was the wrong choice,” she says, her voice shaking with anxiety that’s already set in. “It’s not right, too much. I fell in love with it and convinced myself it was going to be okay. But it’s obviously not.”

“What?” I ask, trying to focus on the dress itself, rather than her as a whole.

It’s all shimmery black, calf-length, and long-sleeved.

It hugs her form and has boxy shoulders and hips that accentuate her already perfectly curved figure.

Hardly any of her skin shows, other than under the sheer fabric covering her chest, but it’s sexier than anything I’ve ever seen her in.

“I’ll change. Willa said everyone is wearing pink and black.

She brought me some options to borrow. But you said you’d pay me back if I wanted to shop for myself,” she rambles, her bare toes digging into the carpet, a nervous gesture I’ve noticed almost as often as her fist clenching.

“I’m not going to fit in. They’ll all be in tiny, pink, sparkling dresses. ”

“Kit.”

“I’m sorry I’m freaking out. I thought I had myself under control, and then, I got a text from a coworker that asked if I’d ever thought birds weren’t real.

Like, instead, they’re little robots, and that’s why they sit on power lines—so they can recharge.

Then, all I could think about was how far artificial intelligence has come and how bad our education system is, and I spiraled. ”

“Kit,” I repeat, all while I try to wrap my head around robot birds.

“I’ll go change. I’ll be quick, so we won’t be late. You look handsome, by the way. I should have led with that.”

“Kit,” I say again, moving to her and grabbing her trembling hands in mine. “If you change that dress, I will put your bare ass over my knee until it’s red. Then, force the dress back on you.”

“What?” She blinks up at me. My goal was to get her out of her head—or at least steer it in a different direction. The redness on her cheeks tells me it worked.

“You heard me,” I say in a softer tone. “The dress is amazing. You’re gorgeous, and who gives a fuck if you fit in with what the other wags are wearing?”

“Be so for real with me, Tyson,” she says, her voice a little steadier. “If we show up there and all the other women are dressed in little pink party dresses, and I’m like a goth power boss bitch next to them, you’re not going to feel some kind of way about it?”

“Oh, I’ll feel some kind of way,” I say, dropping my head to the crook of her neck and peppering it with a few kisses. “I’ll feel proud that you walked into the room on my arm and that I’m the man you’ll be going home with.”

“Are you sure?” she asks breathlessly. “It was an expensive dress.”

“Worth every fucking penny.”

“You don’t know how much I spent,” she says, stilling my head between her hands and forcing me to look at her.

“How much?”

“Six hundred,” she says, scrunching her nose up the way she does whenever she’s feeling cringey. “The shoes were on clearance, but still cost almost three-fifty.”

“For less than a grand, I get to stare at you looking like this all night? That’s a steal,” I tell her, trying to hide my amusement.

“You’re crazy,” she accuses.

“My current contract is a four-year deal for twenty-one million. You could have spent more.”

“I’m already terrified I’m going to spill on it or rip it.” She’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“I had ties that I’ve thrown out that cost more than the shoes you bought. I promise, if anything happens to the dress, it’s going to be fine.”

“You throw your ties away?” she asks, aghast.

“I meant, donated,” I say, laughing. “I’m not a heathen.”

“Good, I was rethinking everything I know about you,” she says, then takes a couple calming breaths. “Thank you for talking me down.”

“Anytime, love. Go get your shoes; I’ll take Nightmare for a quick walk.”

“Okay,” she says, and starts walking toward the bedroom but pauses to look back at me. “Can we try that whole spanking thing sometime? Maybe not until I’m red, but…”

“I knew you had a bratty side,” I say with a grin and the beginnings of a hard-on.