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“Last summer. She’s amazing.” Like Terra and Angie, Lindsey has become a close friend. We talk on the phone, text, and recently planned a girls-only weekend in late June after the Surge’s season ends—which, hopefully, will be in mid-June. That’s when the Cup run ends.
My attention returns to the game when Colby takes the ice. Against their top line. Again. This time, though, the opposing team’s coach makes a quick switch. Their top player, the one Colby’s been harassing all night, goes to the bench and their pain-in-the-ass player takes his place.
“Oh no,” I mutter.
“Yeah, oh no,” Terra seconds beside me.
The three of us lean forward. I think we even hold our breath at the same time.
The whistle blows shortly after when the puck deflects off a stick and into the netting behind the goal. Colby takes the ensuing draw in the Surge’s offensive zone and wins. Nick parks himself in front of the goalie, and the reason why the opposing coach put in the other team’s rat becomes crystal-clear. The dude doesn’t go for Colby, who’s causing chaos against the boards. He guns for Nick instead, slashing him across the calf where there’s little padding before cross-checking him so hard he falls to his knees and folds, his helmet smacking the ice. The cheap shot wasn’t only away from the play, which should mean an interference call, but it was dirty as hell.
We all gasp as Nick struggles to get up. Behind him, Colby dishes the puck off to Cam and wheels for the net. Sees Nick wobble. Charges the instigator. Gives him a shove with his stick. The dude shoves back. Cam and others join the fight, and a full-on scrum breaks out in the goal mouth. Fists fly, and guys fight to stay upright on their skates. It’s a miracle they do.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” I mumble.
Beside me, my friends let out a collective gasp.
When the refs break up the fight, one has a grip on Colby, whose helmet is missing. His hair is a dark, wet mass, and he’s bleeding from the mouth and the side of his head. The linesman skates him to the sin bin, Colby pivots, skating backward so he can rail at the other team’s agitator. That guy’s being escorted to the other penalty box, but he’s not bloodied like Colby.
“If he were hurt,” Angie the physical therapist quickly offers, “they’d be taking him off the ice right now.”
“I know, I know,” I reply as much to her as to reassure myself.
Once Colby takes his seat, he swipes the blood from his face. The camera focuses on him, and the arena roars its approval. When the lens zeroes in on the other guy, the place erupts in equally loud boos. This continues for a few minutes to the delight of the crowd, and when the camera pans back to Colby, he hams it up by standing up and waving. The place goes nuts. They love him here, and my heart swells for him.
“They’re getting their money’s worth tonight,” Terra deadpans.
I stifle a laugh. “Yep, that’s my showboat down there entertaining the folks.”
The Surge squeak out a one-goal win, thanks to a beautiful wrist shot by Dylan, and we shuffle down to the family waiting area. Colby emerges in the early wave of players. Three butterfly closures adhere to a gash above his eyebrow—“Helmet,” he explains—and one side of his lip is swollen and bloody.
I go up on tiptoe to smooth his hair and kiss him, but he turns his face. “My kisser’s busted on that side.”
“No more smirk.”
“Not for a while,” he agrees.
I caress his jaw with the back of my hand. “That’s okay, baby.” I lay soft kisses along his jaw and plant a sloppy one on his neck, nonplussed by his teammates’ wolf whistles.
He looks around and gives them a self-satisfied smile, then immediately winces. “I’ll be taking more punches from now on.” His teammates guffaw, clap, and cheer.
I whisper in his ear, “And I’ll be taking on the kissing duties—until you heal. Think you can keep up your end of the bargain?”
He grins and winces again. “Try and stop me.” His bravado is curtailed by his obvious discomfort. Then he leans down so only I hear. “Whatever the bargain is, I’m there for it. Always.” When he draws back, the tenderness that shines in his eyes makes mine spring a leak. I don’t think I could love him any more than I do right now.
Oh, what a difference a year makes.
Chapter 51
Patience Is Fleeting
Colby
We’re partying at Blue’s house again after tonight’s All-Star break send-off win. Of course we are. It’s where we always end up.
Normally, I’m fine with that, but I have some plans for one hot green-eyed blond who's wearing my jersey and smells like something I want to eat, and I need to get her out of here and onto the Gail. Not sure how I’ll be able to pull off what I planned with my busted lip, though. Guess kissing—and any other activity involving my mouth—is off the table, but I’ll come up with something.
Jackie doesn’t know it, but Lindsey flew in, and she drove down to Beaufort and met up with Peggy. My sister and my girl have a hot and heavy womance going, which tickles me to my skates, but if Jackie knows Lindsey’s in town, I’ll have lots of questions to answer and I’ll never be able to separate them.
