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)
Drake claps me on the shoulder as he passes. “Nice work out there.”
I nod. “Still weird not having you in net.”
“Still weird watching you be the hero,” he jokes. “But you pulled it off.”
Brienne smiles once more and turns for the door. “Celebrate smart, gentlemen.”
“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” Rafferty calls after her.
“Yes,” she says dryly, “and that’s exactly why I said it.”
The door shuts behind her, and I feel the weight of everything—every hard practice, every lineup shift, every time we doubted ourselves—settle into tangibly fulfilling.
We’re in.
We made it.
I flop down beside Penn, still grinning, my hair soaked and helmet hanging from my fingers.
“You really had to go full dramatic-hero mode in the last ten seconds, huh?” he says.
“Would you expect anything less?” I smirk, unwrapping tape from my wrist.
“Not from you,” he admits. “You love the clutch spotlight.”
“I love that it means we’re in,” I say, and it comes out softer than I expect. “No stress. No what-ifs. No breaking my playoff streak.”
Penn nods. “You earned it.”
I nudge him lightly with my shoulder. “Speaking of things I want to earn… any chance you and Mila might be up for a double date sometime?”
Penn turns, one brow raised. “Double date?”
“Yeah, you know,” I shrug, playing it casual. “Dinner. Drinks. Maybe bowling if we want to feel wildly uncoordinated.”
Across the room, Atlas yells, “Lucky Branson requesting a double date? Who even are you?!”
Kace joins in, singing, “He’s in looooove…”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but I’m laughing too.
Penn watches me for a second, then says, “You’re serious.”
“I am,” I say, more firmly now. “I just… I like Winnie. A lot. And I don’t want to miss any of it. I want to experience all the normal stuff. Group hangouts. Weekends off. Holding her hand in a restaurant. All of it.”
Penn doesn’t tease. Doesn’t smile.
He nods.
And when he speaks, it’s quiet, but it cuts to the center of everything.
“Then trust a man who knows something about this and don’t waste a single minute of it.”
I blink, caught off guard by how deeply that lands.
He’s the guy who almost lost everything—his career, his peace and the woman who brought him back to both. He knows what it’s like to love someone and nearly lose the chance to tell them.
“I won’t,” I say, and I mean it.
Penn holds out his fist and I bump it. “And yeah… we’d love to go out with you and Winnie sometime.”
Across the locker room, Stone somehow ends up with a bottle of champagne. He pops the cork and starts spraying everyone. We’re heading back on the red-eye flight tonight, but I’m sure there will be plenty more celebration on the plane. I’ll toast the win, laugh with the guys—but my head’s already spinning on to what comes next.
Quality time with Winnie.
CHAPTER 32
Winnie
The sun is warm on my face as I push through the front doors of the school, one hand raised in a distracted wave to fellow teachers chatting by the main office.
Someone calls out, “Tell Lucky congrats again! That game-winner was insane!”
I smile—automatic, polite, if a little too tight. I’m so happy and proud of Lucky for getting the game-winning goal, clinching a playoff spot for the Titans, but it’s been overshadowed by another barrage of nasty comments in response to a TikTok he posted last night from the locker room.
It was focused mainly on the postgame celebration, with players spraying each other with champagne and Lucky commentating with a hilarious faux sports broadcaster voice. At the end, though, he looked earnestly into the camera and said, “Win… can’t wait to get home and celebrate with you.”
I think something in me might be broken because a romantic gesture like that would send any woman into a tizzy with potential swooning as a side effect.
But for me… I cringed. Not because the words weren’t perfect but because I knew they’d be ruined forever in my mind once the trolls started posting their hateful shit.
Of course, I was a glutton for punishment and I read them. I read the sweet comments too, but honestly… those are meaning less and less to me.
This morning at school, Mrs. Dolan in the library gushed about how sweet and romantic Lucky is. I smiled and nodded and kept my eyes down, because she has an insider view into my relationship and it’s making me all kinds of bitter.
I really don’t want to be that way and I will work hard to get past this. Maybe it’s just because it’s all so new, and surely, this trend of tearing others down will pass.
Right?
I can’t dwell on that now though because tonight, it’s all about Lucky. I’m making him a celebratory dinner and he’ll be at my house in a few hours. I need to get home, shower the slime of snot and glue sticks off me, and then I’m going to make a new recipe I found… hot honey feta chicken.