Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“You doing anything fun tonight? Exploring Tampa?” George asked as if there wasn’t one minute left on the clock.
“Hotel, I think. I’m tired.” I was being short but only because I didn’t want to miss what was happening.
Dylan had the puck. He was about to get body slammed but dodged it, sending the other guy into the boards behind him. The plexiglass rattled. The arena was loud, the cheering and chanting from both sides echoing through the space.
Dylan lined himself up again. It would be such a tough shot to make. Two of Tampa’s guys were almost on him. The goalie was primed and ready.
Dyl took his shot. I held my breath and nearly lost sight of the puck. I gasped, then broke into a cheer as the net shook and air horns blasted through the arena.
Overtime.
The guys took their spots on the ice. The energy in the arena was electric. Music was blaring—a popular hip hop song that got everyone hyped up. George was clapping his knees. He had a clipboard meant for taking notes that sat at his feet and appeared mostly empty, with a couple of random doodles in the corner.
“If you want to hang out after, let me know,” George said loudly over the music. “I’m thinking of hitting up a couple bars. Maybe karaoke if you’re into that.”
I could tell George really wanted to be friends with me, maybe even something more than that. I didn’t mind making new friends—although I wasn’t exactly the best at it and did prefer focusing my energy elsewhere in my life. I also didn’t want to do much after the game anyway.
Except maybe hang out with Dylan.
I’d been dreaming about him giving me another massage since that last time. I’d wake up with my sheets wet from how much pre-cum he’d draw out of me, even in my damn sleep. And watching him play tonight… it was lighting my blood on fire.
“Maybe we can hang when we get back to Burlington?” I suggested, stifling a yawn. “I’m going to bed early tonight.”
“Yeah, perfect, that sounds good.”
The airhorn blasted and the puck dropped as the overtime round began. Coach hadn’t swapped out any of the guys. I watched as Dyl lined up with Emmy at the center and Gabe as the right winger.
The guys on the ice exploded into action. Skates kicked up clouds of ice as they cut across the rink, everyone fighting to gain control of the puck. Sticks were slapped, mothers cursed out, and one of the Tampa guys went sliding backward on his ass after a shoulder from Dylan.
But then the Tampa guys stole the puck away from Gabe. The bench around me got deathly quiet. Only Coach was shouting, encouraging, pushing.
Dyl was trying to catch up but it was Emmy who was the closest. He went for a steal but couldn’t manage. Soren was at the goal. I could see the fire in his eyes from underneath his helmet. Two burning dark sparks trained only on the puck.
The Tampa player aimed, took his shot. Emmy crossed its path. The puck went rogue and lifted off the ice. It bounced off his stick and ricocheted upward.
Directly under his helmet.
I could almost hear the sickening crunch from over the unified groan of the crowd.
The referee whistled. The game paused as blood poured from under his helmet.
Welp. So much for no injuries. I shot to my feet. This was my job, after all. Even though I knew Emmy would be just fine in a few minutes, the majority of the people watching would be thinking the worst. Dylan and Eli helped him skate to the bench. Before I knew it, his sister had appeared, surprising me as she leaped over the barrier to check on him.
Coach didn’t say anything. “Are you okay?” she asked him, as I helped him sit down on the bench. The bleeding had already stopped. I gently lifted off his helmet and handed him a Gatorade bottle while I got a warm, wet cloth to clean his face.
“I’ll be fine,” Emmy said. “Send in Chris, Coach. He’s got this.”
Chris, who had come to stand near me in concern, looked to his alpha. I noticed a brief flicker of hesitation in his expression. Emmy nodded his reassurance. Coach valued Emmy’s opinion as the captain and didn’t object. The ice was quickly cleaned and Chris jumped over the barrier and onto the ice, taking Emmy’s spot as center.
As high as the stakes in the game were, I knew I had a job to do. And I certainly loved my job. Even more than the game itself, which was saying something. I enjoyed helping people heal and making them feel better, even when their bodies had it under control already.
The puck had hit right underneath Emmy’s chin. I was sure there’d been some kind of fracture or break, but while gently feeling around the area, I could tell his shifter genetics were swiftly mending the damage. I cleaned it up and placed a bandage there just for appearances as the skin had already stitched itself closed. Anyone else would have needed to go to the hospital for at least twenty to thirty stitches, as well as be concerned about blood loss.