Page 138 of Slapshot Bride

“Go kill it, superstar,” she says with a smile and leans in to kiss me.

I’m powerless to it. I take her lips, palm settling on the nape of her neck to keep her close as I kiss her one last time. I savor the moment, committing her taste to memory.

My heart aches with every flick of her tongue against me, and when I pull away, her smile slips.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more, sweetheart.”

I kiss her one final time, and I move.

I get the door open and my bag off the back seat. I’m out on the concrete with the cold on my face, and I lift a hand and wave.

I love you, baby. The words are on my lips, but I don’t say them.

She sits there in the driver’s seat with her mouth slightly open.

I walk to the bus.

I want to run back and hug her. Tell her how much I love her. Tell her the truth that it was never fake.

But I know it’s for the best.

Four days and it’ll be over.

29

EASTON

In My Jersey

Wheels down in Chicago on Thursday at four-forty. Bus at five. Hotel by six.

I’ve done this trip nine times. My body knows every part of it. That’s the point of the road—you don’t have to think, you just get moved from one place to the next, and you focus on the game.

But all I see is her. The look she gave me before I got on the bus.

For the first time in almost three months, I’ll be sleeping in bed all alone. Without her soft body pressed against mine, and her little intake of air when I pull her close to me.

It’ll be a long night.

Maybe I should have convinced her to come with me. One weekend getaway before it all falls apart.

No. Her job. Fuck! I wouldn’t be that man. I wouldn’t be a Preston or a Donovan to her.

The night drags on after settling into my hotel room, and when the next morning arrives, I know it’s going to be a shitty day.

Not a wink of sleep all night. Barely rested, yet I have to show up on the ice and put on a stellar performance for everyone. Without my woman.

The game starts. It’s the first shift, and my feet are a half step behind where my brain is sending them, and in this game, I need all the focus I can get.

Wyatt covers for me twice in the first period without making it obvious, which means he’s noticed and decided not to say anything.

Hell… if Wyatt sees it, then the rest of them do.

Wyatt is the loud-mouthed one. If he’s keeping shut, then I must be doing a terrible job of keeping things off the ice.

Kai’s eyes find mine across the ice, but he says nothing.