Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
The spotlight hits center ice as our announcer’s voice booms through the arena. “And now, please welcome the Baltimore Baddies!”
The visiting team skates out one by one as their lineup is announced. The crowd gives the standard mix of polite applause and half-hearted boos, all the while waiting for the real show to start.
The moment the last player takes position, the music shifts, the bass vibrating through my skates. Blue and silver lights sweep across the ice, and the volume inside the arena explodes.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your Chicago Railers!”
I roll my shoulders, shaking out my limbs as my teammates line up. Knox bounces on his skates beside me, a cocky grin plastered across his face.
“Starting in goal, number thirty-five, Laiken Lennox!”
Laiken glides out, lifting his stick to the thundering chants of “Lai-ken, Lai-ken!”
“At right defense, number twenty-three, River Thompson!”
River takes the ice to whistles and cheers.
“At left defense, number four, Jaxon Wilder!”
The spotlight sweeps over our zone, catching Jaxon as he loops around. Six years of these introductions, and my gaze always settled on Lilah. She’d be on her feet with everyone else, but she’d be watching me, not the show.
“At right wing, number eleven, Knox McNichols!”
Knox throws me a look before heading out, like he knows exactly where my head is.
“At left wing, number ninety-one, the big O, Oliver Van Doren!”
The roar builds as Oliver skates forward, fist-bumping Jaxon as he passes.
One more name.
“And your captain, at center, number nineteen, Steele Sanderson!”
I push off, muscle memory taking over as I glide onto the ice. The spotlight follows, the crowd thundering the entire time. As I take my usual lap around our zone, my eyes automatically lift to the suite.
Lilah’s not there.
That’s all it takes for my calm to fracture.
Where the hell is she?
I settle into position at center ice as my teammates fan out around me.
Knox nudges my shoulder. “Get your head in the game, Cap.”
With a nod, I grip my stick tighter and force my expression into something neutral.
Captain’s face.
Game face.
The ref skates in, puck in hand.
I bend forward, ready for the drop, but my gaze lifts one last time to the suite.
My lucky charm is still MIA.
The puck drops, and I surge forward, stick colliding with my opponent’s. Normally, I’m locked in and focused on what needs to be done. But that’s not the case tonight.
Without Lilah’s presence, I feel off.
And I fucking hate it.
I take a shot, missing the net by a mile.
“Jesus,” River mutters as he skates past. “What the hell was that?”
I grit my teeth, skating harder, trying to push through the frustration making my hands clumsy and my focus scattered.
By the time we hit the locker room between periods, I can feel the guys watching me, silent questions brimming in their eyes.
Oliver tosses me a towel. “Are you playing like shit for the fun of it or what?”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, dragging a hand through my sweat-dampened hair.
He snorts. “I’m just saying, man. Maybe pretend like you give a damn about the game.”
How can I respond when they’re right?
I need to get my head out of my ass. As soon as the game is over, I can find Lilah and make sure everything’s okay. Until then, I need to focus.
I don’t play any better during the third period. Thank fuck the guys are there to pick up the slack. The final buzzer sounds, and the crowd roars. My teammates throw their hands in the air as sticks tap against the ice in victory.
Even though it’s another win under our belt, there’s no pleasure to be found in it. I’d usually be caught up in the rush of the post-game high with them. But tonight, as I skate off the ice, there’s only one thing dominating my mind.
Lilah.
I scan the stands one last time, searching for her face in the crowd.
She promised she’d be here.
The empty seat hits harder than I want to admit.
Where the hell is she?
With that jackass boyfriend of hers?
Even the thought of Devon Peterson is enough to make my jaw clench.
She deserves so much better.
Then again, I’m not sure there’s a guy out there who’s good enough for Lilah Monroe.
She’s like the sun rising over the horizon—impossible to ignore and even harder to forget.
When Lilah’s near, she’s all I see.
All I feel.
All I want.
It’s been that way since our freshman year of college, and nothing has changed. If anything, my feelings for her have only deepened, growing stronger with every year, every moment, every look.
The thought of her marrying that smug bastard makes my stomach twist.
Not just because I’d lose her.
But because I know deep in my bones that she doesn’t belong with him.
She belongs with me.
To me.
The last time she had “big news” to share, I damn near had a heart attack.
I was convinced he’d proposed.