Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Gage passes and makes a heart with his hands while batting his lashes.
“Go suit up. I’ll be cheering for you rinkside.” She pats my chest.
I join my teammates in the locker room. I’m still jittery, but my confidence is back. Tristan and Quinn Romero came out to practice with Brody earlier in the week, and Gage, Chase, and I were invited to join. It was cool to hear about Quinn’s experience, and how you never know what can happen. He was drafted early but didn’t get called up until a few years ago. He’s in the back half of his mid-twenties, has a master’s and most of a PhD, and now he’s playing professional hockey and having a great season with the Terror.
We take the ice for warm-ups, and I spot Fee and our friends in the stands, along with Roman and Lexi, Brody’s family, including his brothers, and Quinn, and all of them are wearing Fee’s cool-ass matching hoodies. The Terror players are currently being mobbed by fans, and Hammer, Fee’s sort of pseudo extra-sister who works for Terror PR, is running interference.
And then I spot the legend himself, Quinn’s dad, Lance Romero, who helps run the Hockey Academy stateside along with Alex Waters, out in Pearl Lake.
Steele adjusts his helmet. “Dude, look at all the famous people who came to see us play tonight.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “One day that will be us.”
I’m manifesting the fuck out of that dream. I want that to be my life. Not necessarily the part about being mobbed by fans but living my dream. Playing professional hockey, traveling all over North America.
The game gets off to a solid start with one of the third-year players scoring a goal in the first three minutes of play. Guelph tries to tie it up, but we’re playing tight. I’m on the ice with Stiles, Steele and Lovett during the back half of the first period.
I snag the puck from a Guelph forward and pass it to Lovett, who passes to Stiles. He takes the shot on net, but Guelph intercepts it. Gage reclaims the puck and passes it to Lovett, who passes it to me. Stiles is being guarded by two of Guelph’s players, and another is making Lovett impossible to pass to. Which means it’s up to me to take the shot. I fake a pass to Steele and the goalie shifts his position, giving me the opportunity I need. I take the shot, the puck flipping up in the air and sailing past his glove to hit the back of the net.
My teammates converge on me, with backslaps and way-to-gos. The fans shout and clap. It’s a beautiful high, and I search for my girlfriend in the stands. She catches my gaze and blows me a kiss, her pride written all over her face.
We extend our lead by another goal in the second period, and Stiles scores another in the third, with our goalie maintaining the shutout.
The locker room is frenetic with excitement. We shower and change into our dress clothes, then meet up with our friends and family waiting in the lobby.
People have grown accustomed to seeing Roman at games lately, but Quinn and Tristan are being bombarded by fans, as are Alex and Lance. The resemblance between Quinn and Lance is uncanny. They have the same dark red hair—although Lance’s is graying at the temples—freckles, and clover green eyes.
Alex and Lance finally manage to pry themselves away from the fans thanks to Hammer stepping in to redirect them.
“That was a great game, boys,” Alex praises, then points to me. “Beautiful goal. You assessed the options and didn’t hesitate to take the shot. The risk paid off.”
“Thank you, sir.” That’s it. Year made. Alex Waters told me I had a great game.
Fee finally makes her way through the throng to me. Her smile is wide and infectious. I open my arms and she throws hers around my neck. “You were magic out there tonight.”
I spin her around, hugging her tightly before I set her back on her feet. And then because I’m riding the high, I take my girlfriend’s face in my palms and kiss her.
In front of our coaches.
In front of hockey legends.
In front of her family and Roman, who still might kill me.
But at least I’ll die happy.
CHAPTER 43
FEE
“Hey, Andie, how’s it going?” I pass Gage’s new closet-roommate on my way up the front walk.
She hooks her thumbs under her backpack straps. “Oh, you know, loving closet life.”
I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic.
“Have a great day!” she calls over her shoulder.
“You too!” I continue up the front steps and knock before I open the door. The living room is tidy and empty of people. “Hello?”
“In the kitchen!” Gage calls out.
I poke my head in and frown as I take in the scene before me. Gage is wearing a floral-printed apron, a stack of pancakes—half of them overdone—on a plate beside him.