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“And I assume she’s the love of your life.”
“My only real love.”
“Well, that’s how I feel about Kyleigh. I wish she wasn’t Conor’s sister, but I can’t do anything about that. She’s my only real love. A once-in-a-lifetime love.”
He taps his pen on the table and gives me a long, drawn-out stare. “You damn hockey players, you’re so stubborn.” He stares at the ceiling for a beat. “Fine. I’ll give this a little leeway, but the minute it starts to affect this team, we’re going to have a long sit-down. Go.” He points at the door.
I head back into the locker room without saying anything to anyone. Conor glances at me but quickly shifts his gaze in the other direction.
I can’t say it doesn’t hurt. I can’t say that I don’t want him to see us together. That maybe he’d get on our side if he can see how much she means to me. That I’m not in this for her tits and ass, but her heart. The tits and ass are definitely a bonus though.
I dress and hear my phone vibrate in my bag.
Good luck tonight.
I see that she changed her name in my phone to KY-leigh. Little smartass.
Thanks. You offering any incentives to do well tonight?
How about a blow job for every goal?
That’s definitely an incentive.
What can I say? I’m a pretty awesome girlfriend.
The best.
I can’t wait to watch you on the ice, knowing that you’re mine, and you’re taking me to bed tonight.
Are you trying to make me go out there with a hard-on?
No. I don’t want those puck bunnies to see what they’re missing.
Henry claps me on the shoulder. “Time to go, man.”
I nod.
Gotta go. I’ll be looking for you. You’re in the suite, right?
Hell no. I’m front and center. I want to watch my man up close.
My nervousness kicks up a level.
Love you.
Oh, and my dad’s beside me. Eek. Love you!
Hell, the father of the woman I love is sitting in the stands while his son hates my guts. This should be fun.
We get on the ice, and we’re first line.
Ten seconds into the game, I’ve got the puck, skating toward the goal. I pass it to Tweetie, and he shoots it to Henry. I skate behind the goal, Henry passes it to me, and I manage to get it past the goalie, the red buzzer lighting up.
I do my celly, and Tweetie and Henry celebrate with me.
I take off my glove, skating by Kyleigh and placing one finger up in the air. She laughs, her head rocking back and exposing her neck. She’s wearing a Falcons sweatshirt, which is great, but I really want to see her in my jersey. The man next to her is tall, with a thin frame and salt-and-pepper hair. I recognize him from all the parents’ weekends during college and the times he and his wife came to our games. I’m going to have to introduce myself to him tonight with the hopes that Conor hasn’t shit-talked me too much.
“Stop eyeing her. You’ll make it worse,” Tweetie says under his breath.
