Glitz & Goals (Venom Next Gen #2)

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Vivian

Game one of the opening round of the NHL playoffs is turning out to be a nail-biter, tied at three with just minutes left in the third. Knova is perched on the edge of her seat, her fists clenched like she’s ready to throw a punch herself. “Come on, Knight,” she mutters as if her twin can hear her through the din of the arena. Mom sits beside her, a bundle of nerves hidden behind her usual calm smile. Kingsley, on the other hand, looks completely at ease, like this is just another Tuesday night, not a game that could define the season.

I’m trying to focus on the ice, but my eyes keep drifting to the bench. To him. Grady’s pacing like a caged tiger, barking out commands, his dark hair spiked up, his jaw tight with concentration. Even from here, I can feel the intensity radiating off him. He’s in his element—commanding, magnetic, impossible to look away from.

“He’s got them playing smart tonight,” Kingsley says, crossing her arms. “Ranger’s a good balance for him. Keeps him grounded.”

“Grounded?” Knova snorts. “You mean doesn’t let him explode. That man is wound tighter than a cheap guitar string. He could snap if anyone breathes near him.”

Dante, sitting behind us, chuckles. “It’s not anger, La Tigre . It’s passion. Metcalfe’s one of the best we’ve had in years. And I will happily take all the credit. I’m bringing the magic back.”

I don’t disagree. Watching him down there, so utterly in control, makes my chest ache. And that terrifies me.

Because for the first time in my life, I’m falling for someone when I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know where this is going or if it’s even going anywhere at all. I’ve always been careful, deliberate, making sure I never gave away too much of myself unless I was certain the risk was worth it. But with Grady…

With Grady, it feels like I’m freefalling.

I know he has feelings for me, too, but is that enough?

I’ve never looked at a man like this before, never been so drawn to someone that the thought of a future without him makes my stomach twist. The way he moves, the way he commands respect without demanding it, the way his voice cuts through the chaos and pulls his team together—it’s all so Grady. Strong. Steady. Relentless.

And yet, when he looks at me, it’s different. I don’t see the coach or the competitor. I saw the man who cooked me dinner and listened to me ramble about costume fittings, as if it were the most important conversation in the world. I see the man who makes me laugh when I want to cry, who looks at me like I’m something worth holding onto.

The crowd’s roaring as the players battle it out on the ice, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him. For the first time, I want to believe in something I can’t see, can’t plan for.

And that terrifies me even more.

With the game down to the wire, the tension in the arena is unbearable. Knight’s line is out, cycling the puck in the offensive zone, and everyone in the VIP box leans forward as one. Mom grips my arm, her knuckles white. Knova is practically vibrating with energy.

“Move it, Viktor, you fucking boner doner!” Knova shouts, punching the air as her brother dishes a crisp pass to him. “Yes! That’s it—oh, come on!”

The play shifts, the Caribou clearing the puck down the ice. My gaze flicks to Grady on the bench, yelling something at Ranger and pointing toward the defensemen. His voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding, until—

The puck comes out of nowhere, flying over the boards straight at the home bench. I barely register what’s happening until it collides with Grady’s head. The sound—God, the sound—is a sickening crack, like splitting wood. He stumbles, his hand shooting up to his temple before his legs give out.

“Grady!” I scream, but my voice is swallowed by the gasp of the crowd. He hits the ground, motionless, as the trainers rush toward him.

“Oh, my God,” Knova whispers, her hand clutching mine. “That sounded really bad.”

Kingsley turns to Dante, her face pale. “Where are the team doctors?”

I can’t breathe. My chest feels like it’s been crushed, my heart pounding so hard it might crack my ribs. Grady is lying behind the bench, surrounded by Violet and the other trainers, and everything else—the crowd, the game, the noise—fades into nothing. I’m frozen, my hands gripping the railing so tightly that my fingers are numb.

He doesn’t move.

The trainers are working, Ranger is pacing, and I think I hear someone yelling instructions, but it’s all muffled like I’m underwater. My mind is a chaotic mess. This isn’t supposed to happen. Grady is larger than life. He’s unshakable, indestructible, always in control. Seeing him like this is so wrong, so completely alien; it’s like my brain can’t process it.

Where is the fucking team doctor? The ambulance?

Am I the only one who really cares?

I glance back at Dante with pleading eyes, but he’s already on the phone, screaming in Italian.

Someone next to me—Mom, maybe?—says something, but I don’t respond. I can’t. My thoughts are spiraling, tangling into a knot of panic and fear. What if this is serious? What if he doesn’t get back up? What if I never get to tell him—

Oh, my God.

It hits me like a freight train, a rush of emotion so overwhelming it nearly knocks me over. I love him. Not the casual, crush-like feelings I’ve been pretending to myself that I have, but real, raw, bone-deep love. The kind that makes you terrified of losing someone because losing them would break you.

And it’s not just for the way he looks at me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, but for everything he is. His relentless drive, his unwavering loyalty, the way he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever complaining. I love that he’s gruff with everyone else but gentle with me. That he’s patient when I push, steady when I waver. That he knows when to challenge me and when to simply hold me. I love that he makes me laugh, makes me feel safe, and makes me feel seen. And now, as he lies there prone and unconscious, I can’t imagine a world without him in it.

I blink back tears, my vision blurring as they lift him onto the stretcher, his legs unmoving. I should run, do something, but I’m paralyzed. My heart screams at me to get down there, to be with him, but my feet are stuck to the floor.

And in that moment, I know. I can’t sit here and do nothing. I have to get to him. I have to tell him. Before it’s too late.

I’m already standing, my heart lodged in my throat. He’s still not moving.

“I need to go.” I try to slip past Mom.

She catches my arm. “You’re leaving?”

“No, I…” I bite my lip and look down toward the ice, where Grady’s being transported to the onsite medical center.

Mom gasps. Her grip on my arm tightens. “Oh, my gosh. He’s the guy. Grady’s the guy. The one who you were on the phone with, right?”

There’s nothing I can say to that. Even my silence is incriminating. “Um…”

She loops her arm through mine. “In that case, we’re both going. You’ll need me.”

I almost trip over my own feet in my haste to get out of the row. “Why?”

“Because your father is down there,” Mom says. “And I’m far better in a crisis than he is.”

“Hm.” I bite my lip. “Good point.”

I know the arena, but my mom—despite her size—is way better at getting people to clear a path. She charges through the crowd, parting the masses before her like Moses parting the Red Sea. It’s borderline miraculous. Nobody gets in our way as she takes the staff-only corridors back through the warren of rooms and hallways. We’re moving so fast that I don’t have time to read the signs on the walls, but she still leads us to the right door.

The refs already called an immediate injury time-out, halting the game for an extended period—protocol when a coach is seriously injured—giving the affected team time to regroup before play commences. Noah, Sergio, and Violet are all gathered around a table in the middle of the room, surrounded by worried Venom players. Violet is one of the team trainers, with a specialty in head injuries. She’s bent over Grady, who is lying on his back with his eyes closed while she ices his head.

He’s still. So damn still.

My stomach clenches as my mind races out of control.

“Can one of you hold this?” Violet asks. “If I can get them open, I need to check his eyes. ”

Before either of the guys can volunteer, I shove my way into the fray. “I’ve got this,” I tell her. I all but snatch the ice pack from her hands and press it to Grady’s head while peppering his face with kisses.

Dad clears his throat. “Whoa, Viv, slow down. That’s not the way to bring someone back from an unconscious state!” Then he gives Mom a pointed look. “Why are you two even down here?”

Mom touches his arm and shakes her head, which only makes him more confused. I try to ignore them, focusing on Grady, who hasn’t responded to my presence. His eyes pop open and travel over my face, but the Grady I know isn’t there. His gaze is unfocused, distant, like he’s looking straight through me. A lump forms in my throat, and I press my hand gently against his cheek, willing him to come back to me.

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

“Viv?” Dad asks, his voice cutting through the fog of panic tightening in my chest.

Mom shakes her head. “Leave it, Noah.”

Leave it? Leave it? My heart is practically breaking apart in my chest, and they’re having this conversation?

“Wait.” He looks down at her, his brow furrowed like this is some casual misunderstanding. “Are you saying…? Are they…?”

I want to scream at him, tell him to shut up and focus because Grady—Grady—might be seriously hurt, and all this joking feels like nails on a chalkboard.

Viktor clears his throat. “Wow, Dad. The revelations just keep coming, don’t they? Yesterday, you realized that you injured Coach Metcalfe when he was in your crease. And today you’re realizing that the same guy is in Vivian’s—”

Dad points at him. “Complete that thought at your own peril.”

I squeeze Grady’s hand tighter, hoping the warmth of my skin will anchor him. His eyes flutter, but there’s still that haze, that terrifying emptiness. My stomach twists, and for a second, it feels like I might be sick right there on the floor.

Without missing a beat, Knight covers Viktor’s mouth as he meets my gaze. “I’m saving you from yourself.”

The words swirl around me like background noise. I should care—I usually care—but all I can think about is the way Grady’s breathing sounds too shallow, too uneven. I brush a damp curl from his forehead, my fingers trembling.

Dad scrubs a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable. My own daughter, sneaking around with my boss. My own son, covering for her. My own wife—” He whirls on Mom, eyes narrowed. “You knew about this?”

I flinch at his volume, and Grady’s eyelids flutter again. My heart lurches, hoping this is the moment he’ll snap out of it—but his gaze remains glassy, unfocused.

Mom shrugs, completely unbothered. “Of course, I knew there was someone. But I just found out it was him. I pay attention.”

Dad sputters. “And I don’t? I have a degree in psychology! I collect rare books! I analyze human behavior for fun! How did I miss this?”

I press my forehead gently against Grady’s, willing him to feel me there, to recognize me. My pulse roars in my ears, drowning out most of their words, but I catch bits and pieces—Mom’s calm, Dad’s outrage, Viktor’s smugness—and none of it matters. Not when Grady is lying here like this, like he might slip away if I let go for even a second.

Mom gestures toward my brother, who’s grinning like the devil himself. “I don’t know, Noah. Maybe your son didn’t want to tell you because you’re constantly overreacting?”

Viktor smirks. “Yup. And I would never sell out my sister.”

Dad glares at him before turning back to Mom. “Oh, please. That’s not true at all. He takes after you more than me.”

I close my eyes for a second, grounding myself.

Mom raises an eyebrow and points directly at Dad’s Venom coaching jacket. “Oh? Because the last time I checked, he’s the one playing in the NHL. Seems like he takes after you.”

Dad looks absolutely offended. “So, let me get this straight. His loyal side? That’s you. His athletic side? That’s me?”

Then Grady’s hand twitches in mine. My breath catches in my throat, my heart surging with hope. It’s small, but it’s something.

Mom pats Dad’s chest with faux sympathy. “You’ll get through this, babe.”

Viktor leans toward me. “This is the best day of my life.”

I want to snap at him, tell him this isn’t funny—but before I can, Dad spins on him.

“You especially are on thin ice, buddy.”

I kiss Grady’s cheek, and he finally turns his head to meet my gaze. “Oh, hey,” he slurs. “It’s an angel. Am I dead? I totally died and went to heaven, didn’t I? You’re real pretty, Angel, but I don’t think my wife would like you kissing me like that.”

I laugh through my tears. “You don’t have a wife.”

“I don’t.” He considers this. “Excellent. Would you like to be my wife Stunning Princess Angel Woman?”

Dad growls at him. “This is my daughter you’re talking about!”

“Really?” Grady keeps staring at my face. “Dude, I have no idea who you are, but your daughter is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And she’s totally kissing me.”

Dad’s eye twitches. “Are you serious right now?”

Grady finally seems to realize that someone else is speaking. He tries to sit up but flops right back down again like a fish out of water with his hand plastered to his injured head. “Oh, right. I need permission. Can I marry your super-hot daughter, so I can do things to her?”

Dad throws his hands up. “No! You cannot do things to her.” Then, his gaze goes from me to my mom. “He’s already done things to her, hasn’t he? Oh, my God! My brain is going to explode.”

Violet presses him back down to the table. She’s got a flashlight clasped in one hand. “Um… this isn’t the real Coach Metcalfe talking. He’s completely delusional. I think we should probably table the marriage talk while I complete the concussion exam. And… there are too many cooks in the kitchen.”

Grady holds up a hand with a gasp. “Oh, my God. Am I going to live? Nooooo, I don’t want to live because then I’ll lose my princess angel. Don’t send me back through the light.” His other hand squeezes mine. Then he swirls his thumb until he finds that special spot on my wrist that always sends flutters to my core. “My angel. Mine.”

Ranger appears in the door of the room and claps twice. “Okay, guys, it looks like I’m coaching for the rest of the game. The referees kept everything calm, but we really can’t delay any further. We’re headed back onto the ice. Chop chop! You can check on Coach Metcalfe as soon as we win this thing for him!”

The players file out with a few snickers. Without them, the room feels less claustrophobic. I can finally catch my breath.

I’m afraid that Violet will chase me away, too, but she starts concussion protocol without another word. I stay by Grady’s side the whole time, one of his hands clasped in mine.

I don’t know how serious this injury is, but I’m sticking with him. I’ll stay with him as long as he needs me.

There was a moment, when he was down, that I thought I’d lost him forever. Any doubts I’ve had about my feelings for him have taken on a new clarity.

I love this man. And I’m keeping him.

No matter what.