Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 26
Lucky
My mom is over the moon about Winnie.
I don’t just mean she likes her—I mean she watched her eat lasagna like she was auditioning her to be the newest Branson and my mom was ready to hand her a ring.
And honestly? I get it.
Because every second I’m with Winnie, it feels like I’m watching something rare unfold in front of me. Something I never thought I’d get.
Yesterday was chaotic as we had a home game against the Vegas Spades. We unfortunately lost, but Winnie was there with my mom and after, we hung out at my place. Winnie didn’t stay the night, even though I tried every trick in the book to get her to. Even my mom assured her that it was perfectly acceptable, but Winnie is a little reserved on that front, and yeah… I like that about her too.
Tonight is one of the last chances I have to spend with her before life speeds up again. Another home game tomorrow, Mazzy’s engagement on Saturday, then I’m off for four days to Seattle and San Diego.
It’s a lot. And Winnie? She’s been a trooper, learning how to navigate a new relationship with someone who’s on the go a hundred miles an hour and gone as much as I’m here. Add to that she’s living this relationship in the public eye, which has brought down on her criticism she doesn’t deserve, and well… I wanted to give her a night away from it all.
No comments. No cameras. No curated content.
Just us.
I pulled a few strings this morning—called Vince, one of our off-ice operations guys—and asked if I could use one of the suites tonight. There are no events scheduled at the arena.
He said he’d check, and to my surprise, he called me back to tell me Brienne Norcross said I could use the owner’s suite. I was shocked as hell, but I accepted without another thought. I’ve not had a lot of interaction with the ultimate boss of the Titans, but she’s clearly a romantic. I owe her big-time.
I’ve just finished the setup and I step back to take a look, proud of my ingenuity. No, this is nowhere near a normal date, but fuck it… I’m going to lean into my star power.
I set up a projector, pointed at the far wall, and pilfered a drop-down screen from our media folks. There’s a thick blanket already laid out on the floor and a pile of movie snacks I grabbed from that overpriced gas station on Carson Street Winnie mentioned was “her happy place.”
Twizzlers. Sour Patch Kids. Hi-Chews. Oh, and those weird coconut chocolate clusters she swears aren’t old-lady candy. Vince did me a solid and made sure the popcorn machine had freshly popped kernels and four different types of shaker seasonings.
The lights in the arena are low—just the glow from the Zamboni tunnel and some emergency bulbs casting a soft haze over the empty stands. I didn’t request it that way. That’s how it always is on non-event nights, but it looks romantic.
I check my watch. It’s time to go pick her up for what our followers would consider our last experiment date.
But I’m not even going there.
That little challenge died a swift death two weeks ago.
♦
I’m holding Winnie’s hand as we walk through the corridor that houses the luxury boxes. I already gave her the two-cent tour of the bottom level—the dressing room, therapy rooms, coaching offices and equipment room. She had a million questions and I answered them all, letting her get the most out of this behind-the-scenes experience.
She’s perfect and beautiful in jeans and a hoodie, hair in a loose braid, cheeks flushed, hopefully from my mere presence. I’d told her to dress comfortable and she looks relaxed and happy.
And curious as hell.
“You won’t even give me a hint?” she asks, eyes narrowing playfully as we near the owner’s suite.
“Already gave you one,” I say, swiping us through the glass door with the key card. “I said it was iconic and romantic.”
“That could be anything. A bookstore. A planetarium. A Taco Bell drive-thru.”
“Honestly?” I murmur, pushing open the door, “this place is better than all of that.”
She steps inside and stops cold.
The arena stretches out past the edge of the box in a vast hush. Empty. Still. Lit only by slivers of soft blue light.
She takes everything in, eyes widening as they land on the projector and then flick over to the screen. “Wait… what is this?”
I gesture to the setup. “This is my version of a quiet night in.”
She stares at the rink. “You rented out your workplace for a date.”
I shrug. “Well, I didn’t have to pay money for this, if that’s what you’re asking. I give them blood, sweat and tears from my soul, so Brienne Norcross handed me the key to the owner’s suite.”