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The words sting him; I can tell.
“But I want you,” I add.
Relief washes over his features, and he grabs me. He holds me tightly to his chest, and it’s like a dam wall breaks. I cry against him, and I feel years and years of pain finally starting to heal. His arms are strong, his hands are powerful, and he knows how to cause pain. But he won’t hurt me.
“We have a long road ahead of us,” I say when he finally lets go of me. It’s going to take a lot of work to get to a point where I’m okay and where we get along because, despite how strongly we feel for each other, Stone and I are like oil and water. But I don’t care about that because no one has ever tried to save me. I don’t need it, but it sure feels nice.
“That’s okay,” Stone says. He takes my hand and brings it up to his lips, planting kisses on my knuckles. “I have time.”
Epilogue
Stone
Six months later
The crowds lose their minds in the stand. After our warm-up, I skate around the arena once and wave to my fans. I swear, some of the girls are ready to fucking faint.
Chaz laughs. “Quit it, you fucking show pony. We have a match to play.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, but I grin. I love it when they lose their shit for me. It takes a team to win a game, but I know who they all came to see.
When I glance up one more time, I find her in the crowds. Our eyes lock, and she mouthsI love youto me with an extra pout of her lips. She knows how hard that look gets me.
I wink at her.
Raina is the only person in the crowd I care about. As long as she’s here, I don’t give a shit who else does and doesn’t make it. The stands can be fucking empty. If she’s there, I won’t give a shit.
The referee holds up the puck and blows his whistle. I fist-bump Chaz.
“Go time,” I say.
“Knock ‘em dead.”
“I plan to.”
I skid to a halt at the center and sink into my stance. I glare at the other player from behind my grill.
He stares at me, worrying his lips around his mouth guard like a fish out of water.
“Are you ready?” I ask him.
“You bet your ass. You’re nothing, you piece of shit.”
“Didn’t you get the memo? I’m Stone Giles.”
“Never heard of you.”
I know he’s talking shit just to get me riled up. But it’s working, and I let it. When I’m angry, I play better. Harder. They’re watching us today. They’re out there—scouts to have the power to change my life with just a scribble in their notebook.
If I beat the shit out of this asswipe the way every muscle in my body screams to, they’re not going to draft me. So, I won’t break any rules. I’ll just wipe the ice with this smarmy piece of shit, and see where I can get a shoulder into his chest if I knock him right. I can foul without it being called.
The referee holds up the puck, and everything slows. My mind is clear. Blood rushes in my ears. My heart thrums in my chest. I’m hyper-aware of everything around me. The lights flashing. The cold ice. The player opposite me.
When the puck hits the ice, I slash it away from the opposing team and pass it to Chaz.
He dribbles the puck, pulls it out of reach when another player’s stick comes in to hook it, and I’m on his flank.
“Open!” I shout.
