Page 83 of A Match Made In Fall

“It was good. We won—the final score was 3–1.”

“Aww, congrats.” She pauses. “That’s better than the Bears. I went to the game with Abby, and it was rough. They really needed you out there.”

I’d be lying if I said this didn’t bring me a certain amount of satisfaction. Of course, I feel bad for my former teammates. I spent years playing alongside those guys, and I’d never wish anything bad on them. But this is a professional sport and it’s what we do. The Bears aren’t my team anymore. They’re the competition now.

“Oh man,” I say with a laugh. “Nick must be beside himself.”

“Yes. Abby was absolutely dreading seeing him after the game.”

“Did you wait with her?”

“No. I went home.” Her voice softens. “My favorite player wasn’t there, so I had no reason to stay.”

A grin spreads across my face. No matter how many times she says things like this, I never get tired of hearing it.

“How did the call go with the producers?”

Earlier today, Isabella had a conference call with the team from Ballroom Dance America. She was very nervous about it, despite me trying to pump her up.

“It went well. They were very understanding about my timeline. I’ll continue physical therapy when I get back to LA in January, and we’ll see where things go from there.”

“So you’re still in for next season?”

“Yes.”

I can hear the relief in her voice, and I completely understand how that feels.

“See? I told you. They know how talented you are. Injury or not, they wouldn’t want to lose you.”

“You were right,” she says with a giggle.

“I love hearing those words.”

I glance at my screen. “By the way, I’ll be seeing you in twenty days, four hours, and eight minutes.”

She laughs. “Wow. You really have your eye on that countdown.”

“You bet I do.”

Something tells me she has a countdown of her own, but I haven’t asked her about it.

“In other news,” she says, “the Halloween party is Friday, so Sammy and my mom are officially in full planning mode.”

“I wish I could be there,” I say. “Instead, I’ll be in Vancouver thinking about you the entire night.”

“Okay,” she replies, amusement clear in her voice, “but make sure you stop thinking about me long enough to actually concentrate on playing hockey.”

“I’ll try.”

“You sound very committed to that effort,” she teases. “I’m sure your new coaches would appreciate you staying focused.”

“You’re right,” I say with a chuckle. “But I can’t make any promises.”

Her laughter drifts through the phone, warm and familiar. Even though she’s thousands of miles away, somehow, she still has a way of making me feel less alone.

“Your family will be there in few days, right?” she asks. “You must be so excited.”

“Yes. It’s been months since I’ve seen them, and I honestly can’t wait. It’s nice knowing they are much closer now.”