Page 134 of Rookie Attraction

I got decent sleep last night, but only because Finn and I talked for almost an hour, and I finally felt myself settle down. How is it that this man excites me, makes me laugh, and gives me a feeling of safety like no one else? Is this what Damien feels like when he’s with his husband?

Don’t reference the “H” word.

I’m anything but calm this morning, but the reason why surprises me.

It’s taken you this long to figure out your feelings for Finn?

You’re falling in love with him! What else do you think is going on here?

Oh shit, oh fuck, I’m falling…

Nope, already there.

My adrenaline spikes and I jump out of bed, pacing the room. Jesus, today is not the time for this bombshell to hit me. I need to lock those feelings down tight and look at them later.

Much later.

Despite my overwhelming nerves, I do my job and get prepped for game day. I drink two lattes, eat a massive pile of eggs, avocado, and toast, then pop a couple of ready-made protein shakes in my bag for later. I rewatch clips, and after that, I try to meditate. Again. When that doesn’t work, I take a nap on my couch and wake up two hours later feeling rested.

The puck drops in three hours.

I reheat a frozen meal of grilled chicken and pasta—two of them—and eat at the kitchen island while avoiding my phone. I don’t want to look at socials or texts. Finn and I agreed to go no contact today, except when we get to the rink. We both need to stay in our routine, our professional zone.

Hard to do when you’ve just realized you’re in love with him.

No shit.

After I clean up, I search for my favorite suit, the one that makes me feel the most confident. After slipping on a crisp white shirt, I step into my navy and gray checked pants, vest, and jacket. No tie today, because I’m having a hard enough time breathing as it is. Last minute, I throw on sunglasses too. I don’t want anyone, press or otherwise, to see my eyes and notice how nervous I am.

When I arrive at the arena, the place is crawling with press. I spot Ranken and Berg walking ahead of me, their faces stoic as photo flashes go off. I’m halfway to my destination, ignoring the shouts from reporters, when someone taps my shoulder from behind. I turn around and even with my sunglasses on, my eyes hurt. It’s Makela and he’s decked out in a blinding neon-green suit, cuffs rolled up, and purple biker boots.

“Hey buddy.” Makela taps my arm. “You revved up?”

“Yeah, now that I’ve seen that outfit,” I quip. “I don’t even need an energy drink.”

He rolls his eyes.

“It’s European, Sel. Edgy, unique. You need style advice, you come to me.”

“I think I’m okay as is. I don’t want to give anyone a migraine.”

“You make jokes, finally!”

I crack a small smile. I admit, even with his ego, Makela’s growing on me. We walk and talk on our way to the locker room, and my nerves ratchet up another notch.

As I step inside, my eyes scan for Finn. He’s already geared up, and I quickly look away, no eye contact until we hit the ice. Some guys have the usual banter going on, but the overall mood is charged with tension.

Once we’re suited up and lined up, Range and Laflore appear.

“We know this game’s going to be rough,” Range starts. “Kirkland’s playing against his old team for the first time and that’s always tense, but in this case, magnify that by a thousand. Some of you have already assumed why, and Kirkland’s given me permission to confirm; his former teammates did not react kindly to his coming out. The total opposite. That being the case, I want you all to be on guard. You wear the Rush uniform and that means you have each other’s backs. I expect you to protect Sel and each other.”

There’s a stillness amongst my teammates in response to Range’s pre-game talk.

“And kick the Bandits’ ass so bad they’ll be afraid to come back,” Laflore adds to lighten the mood.

One by one, the guys reach out and pat my helmet, and I nod in appreciation of their support.

“Okay, are we ready?” Range asks.