Page 79 of One Night with Number Nineteen

To similar results.

The Cougars goalie makes the save.

“Damn,” I whisper. And then again, “Damn,” when the Cougars go down and score.

Sawyer skates to center ice as the announcers explain it’s a must-score situation. As if he needs any more pressure, what with the twenty-thousand-odd fans watching him from the inside of the arena, the countless more watching from home just like me.

The whistle trills and he starts forward.

But he doesn’t do that wide, slow arc like Rip and Gray had.

He shoots straight to the net with a speed that takes my breath away.

The goalie comes out to meet him.

And then I don’t even know how to describe what I see next—the puck drops back to Sawyer’s skates and for a second, I think he’s lost control of it. But then he kicks it forward and it’s back on his stick as he cuts sharply to the side and⁠—

I gasp as the puck flies up.

Up. Up.

Home.

“Holy shit,” I whisper as the goal is called and the light goes on and the crowd groans.

How did that happen?

How did he move like that?

But I don’t have time to sit in that because the Cougars still have another chance to score.

“I can’t take this,” I whisper, heart pounding as I watch the player get set up at center ice. I clamp my hands together, lean forward and⁠—

“Yes!” I screech when the Grizzlies goalie makes the save.

Ollie jumps, but thankfully doesn’t wake, and I hold very still as he settles down, burrowing into the couch cushions. I straighten the blanket, tuck stuffed Ollie close, and watch as the post-game show comes up.

And I don’t know if I’m consciously waiting for it as I jot away in my notebook.

But it comes about thirty minutes later.

Buzz. Buzz.

I reach for my phone.

SAWYER: When he wakes up in the morning, tell Ollie thanks.

My heart skips a beat.

LAINEY: How’d you know he’s asleep?

SAWYER: It’s past eight-thirty.

Damn, this man is…dangerous. Thoughtful. Sweet. Aware.

Someone I want in my life.

There. I said it.