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At least my grandfather wasn’t here.
I skated around cones, practiced stopping short between lines, and served the puck back and forth before we took turns taking shots on Evans.
Coach Wilkens called for another three-on-three game, and I was once again starting line. We finished our stretches and set up, and with a quick glance over my shoulder, I was certain I saw someone sitting in the stands.
The puck was dropped, and I took control, practically skating circles around my teammates to score within the first sixty seconds of gameplay.
Cheering. Not from my teammates. From the stands.
I searched for the source of the sound and found Jessa standing, hands cupped at her mouth as she cheered me on.
She reallywasmy lucky charm. I skated better, played better, and was a better player. All because she was watching, sitting there freezing her ass off. But she was here. For me.
How desperately I wanted to climb over the boards and clamber my way up to kiss her, hold her, and hear her laugh.
Rook nudged his shoulder against mine when we were seated on the bench together. “She’s here.”
I turned to him, wearing the goofiest damn grin possible. “I know.”
“Damn, Z. You got yourself a good one, huh?” Sterling called, always sticking his nose in everyone’s business on the bench. “My girl won’t come to practices. Hell, I’d be lucky to get her to come to the damn playoffs.”
“Your girl is too busy spending your money,” Pittman, a right-wing seasoned player, called from the other side of the bench.
Sterling shook his head while we laughed, and he responded, but his words were covered by the sound of Coach’s whistle.
We filed out onto the ice for a final huddle, and I shifted my skates back and forth along the rink, anxious to bring this to an end so I could be with my girl.
Hell yeah. I was laying claims. I’d make this work. No matter what, I’d make this work. She deserved to be worshipped every damn day, and I’d be one lucky bastard if she let me be the one to do that.
“Nice footwork, Anders. And congrats on graduating from a puck hog, Renshaw.”
My teammates jostled me and laughed, but all I cared about what was Coach had to say next.
“Good work, Z. Now, get off my ice.”
I didn’t linger. I had far better things to do than listen to chitchat and strategy suggestions. I barely sat to take off my gear in record time and darted to the showers. Teammates talked around me because I wasn’t getting involved. I was on one hell of a mission to get myself ready to treat my girl to dinner.
I knew she was going to kick up a stink and try to pay for her own meal. She would go to such lengths as pretending to go to the bathroom and paying for her meal in the process. I’d have to hold her purse hostage, and make sure she was going to get used to the fact that I wanted to spoil her any chance I could.
I’d take care of her. It was in my nature, and it was something I enjoyed doing. I’d take care of her in every sense of the word.
“Am I locking the door, or are you coming home?” Rook demanded.
Anders laughed, and I rolled my eyes dramatically at the both of them.
“Sounds like someone is jealous.”
Rook huffed. “I’m not jealous of your littlefling.”
Jessa wasn’t just a fling. Hell no. She was far more than that.
I ignored him and dressed, gathering what I needed, and pushed through the dressing room doors. I nearly stopped breathing at the sight of Jessa just down the hall in slacks and a blazer, looking professional and irresistible in one fell swoop.
Without thinking, I raised a hand to my heart and swayed a little when she peeked up. She giggled—fuckinggiggled—and I was a damn goner for sure. Then she tucked thick hair behind her ear, and that was it.
I moved toward her as fast as my feet would carry me, and my heart swelled as a sweet grin spread wide across her face.
“Hi,” I breathed once I was close enough to touch her, but I kept my grip off her, as hard as it was.
