Chapter 33
HANNAH
“Hi.” I wave to Ruby and then Nick’s son and father on the other side of her.
“You made it!” She stands and hugs me before we take our seats. The guys have a game tonight and Ruby invited me to sit with her. Invited is actually the wrong word. She texted to ask if I was coming, and when I said yes, she demanded it. Not that I mind.
“How are you? How are things?” She gushes, leaning over the armrest as she fires off each question. “When’s your competition? Tell me everything. I’ve been cooped up writing for weeks, and I feel like I’ve missed so much.”
I let out a small laugh. “Good. Good. Four weeks. And… that’s it. That’s everything.”
“I need way more details. And you didn’t mention the most important detail.” Her knowing stare makes me blush.
“Travis and I are also good. Very good.”
Her shoulders pull up to her ears, and she lets out a happy squeal. “I just love you two together.”
“Same. Speaking of happy couples, have you and Nick set a date yet?”
“No. Not yet. July, maybe. Or we might just go down to city hall, honestly.” She stares down at her ring. “I thought I’d be excited to plan an elaborate wedding, but I just want to be married to him.”
“I get that.”
“You don’t have any regrets about the way things happened with you and Travis?”
I think for a minute then shake my head. “No. I can’t really picture it any other way.”
“Aww.” Her happy smile likely mirrors my own.
It’s sappy but true. We’ve talked about getting our marriage annulled and starting over to do it in the usual order – dating, engagement, etc., but as corny as it sounds, I like being his wife and I like that our story isn’t traditional. It feels more us.
“Oh, here they come.” Ruby stands as the lights in the arena dim and the purple spotlight shines down onto the ice. The music pumps and the crowd cheers as the guys skate out.
Travis is the third guy to take the ice, behind Danny and Conrad.
They’re wearing promotional warmups for college night over their game jerseys, and my husband looks very good in the university’s maroon color.
His dark hair is slicked back but that one unruly piece hangs forward on his forehead.
He circles behind the net with the rest of the team and then glances up to find me in the crowd.
I stand on my tiptoes and wave my hands over my head, but he doesn’t seem to need any help.
He flashes a cocky grin and a wink that I could make out from any distance.
Ruby and I take our seats again once the lights come back up and we continue catching up on all the things – her writing and upcoming book tour, potential wedding plans, the guys’ hockey schedule, my new sponsorship with a popular sports drink, and the scholarship Travis and I are working on together. I guess a lot has happened.
By the time the game is about to start, I feel like we’ve worked a month’s full of conversation into thirty minutes, but I could keep talking to her forever.
“We should get together soon,” she says.
“Definitely.”
“But really. I know how busy you are, and me too, but I like hanging out with you.”
“Same.”
I’ve kept working at the kids’ gym a couple nights a week.
It’s a good reminder of where I started and all that I’ve worked for.
Their joy and excitement keep me going when I’m so tired I don’t think I can.
Between that and training, there isn’t a lot of room for more.
But I vow to myself that I’ll make some to see Ruby more often.
There is a short ceremony and acknowledgment of the local college for tonight’s promotion, then the players on the other team are announced. The lights dim once more when it’s time for the Moonshot players to take the ice.
I stand with the rest of the arena as the purple light show flashes over the ice. The lineup is announced, starting with August Penn as tonight’s goalie, then Conrad Shepard, Danny Marlowe, and then…
“Number eighty-eight, Traaaaavis Bennett-Waaaalsh!”
I’m screaming and clapping before it registers. I stop abruptly and look to Ruby. “Did he just say Walsh?”
I whip my head forward to watch Travis skate out from the bench. He has his back to me and am I seeing things or does my husband have my name on the back of his jersey? No, not just my name. Both of our names. Bennett-Walsh. It’s so long it barely fits across his back.
“You stubborn, beautiful man.” I blink away the tears and rejoin the rest of the arena cheering for him.
Travis reaches the center of the ice with his teammates, lifts his left hand to his mouth and then points to me.
“Wow, maybe I did pick the wrong hockey player.” Ruby laughs and then leans her head over to mine. “That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Nick’s dad leans forward to look at me. “You got a real good one.”
That I do.
It’s a close game with a lot of back and forth in the first period but no score from either team. In the second, Travis puts in a rebound to score the first goal.
The announcer once again yells his name for all the arena, “Traaaaavis Bennett-Waaalsh!”
“I don’t think I’m ever getting used to that.” I laugh and clap along with Ruby.
On his next shift, Travis steals the puck and breaks away to the other end. I’m staring at him and not the defender coming up behind him, but I see the stick hook his skate and Travis flies forward to an “oooo” from the crowd.
The whistle blows to stop the game. Travis gets to his feet quickly, but there’s blood on the ice, and it’s dripping from his face as he skates for the bench. Instead of fixing him up there, the trainer immediately takes him back toward the locker rooms and out of view.
“Oh my god.” Panic courses through me. I look to Ruby for help.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” she says, but her eyes are big and wide.
“I need to get down there. Do you think they’ll let me see him?”
“Maybe.”
Her answer doesn’t really matter because I’m already standing and starting up to the steps to the hallway.
I jog to the stairway and then down to the tunnel where the locker rooms and family area is.
It’s quiet back here during the game, and I don’t run into a single person until I peer into the locker room and spot Travis.
He has his back to me, but he’s standing and in one piece.
I run and wrap my arms around him from behind.
He screeches and whips around. His dark eyes are wide as his stare lands on me.
“Shit. You scared me. I’ve been listening to too many of those podcasts Wren sends me.” He looks me over. “What are you doing here?”
“I scared you?! You just bled all over the ice.”
“I’m fine.” He rubs the spot above his eyebrow that’s now covered with a butterfly bandage. “How’d you get back here?”
“I’m small and sneaky,” I say proudly.
A man walks into the room, but if he’s at all surprised by my presence, he doesn’t show it. He hands Travis a new jersey. “Here you go. Two minutes until the end of the period. Coach said to hang here until intermission if you want.”
“Thanks, Ron.” Travis pulls on the new jersey over his pads, flashing the back in the process.
“Travis. Love of my life. Why is my last name on the back of your jersey?”
His grin is all cocky charm. “You mean my last name?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” I arch one brow.
“I changed it.”
“I’m sorry. Did you say you changed it? As in your last name? To mine?”
“Bennett-Walsh. Hyphenated.” He turns slightly to show me as if I haven’t already seen it.
I open my mouth, but I can’t think of a single thing to say.
He grabs my hips on either side and pulls me to him, leaning down to look in my eyes. “Now when they say my name, they have to say yours too.”
A small, strangled laugh escapes. “You did this because of a stupid headline?”
“I did it because I love you. I’m proud to be yours.” His mouth pulls higher on one side. Just when I think he can’t surprise me anymore.
“You’re unbelievable,” I whisper, then wrap my arms around his neck and lift onto my toes to kiss him.
He reaches down to pick me up and holds me to him.
I can’t believe he exists and that I get to be his.
Travis sits on the bench, me straddling his lap.
The noise of the arena is a distant thing – there but unimportant.
I grind over him, pads and all, as our mouths press together in a hard, frantic kiss.
“Fuck, baby. We don’t have long.”
“I don’t need long. Watching you play hockey with my name on your jersey is all the foreplay a girl needs.”
He chuckles and reaches under my skirt to check. When his hands slip under my panties, he groans. “Damn. You weren’t kidding.”
“Hurry.” I’m more concerned about how badly I need him than beating the clock, but now that I think about it, I’d rather the entire team not walk in while I’m fucking my husband.
He undoes his pants and pushes everything down his thighs.
I circle the base of his dick with one hand and sink down on him.
We let out a collective groan as I clench around him.
The way he fills me up makes everything else fade away.
Heat swirls and pools low in my stomach.
Travis’s hands grip my waist, and he sets the tempo, moving me up and down his long, thick shaft.
Every stroke has stars dancing behind my eyes and electricity humming through my veins.
“Fuck, Hannah,” he grits out, then nips at my lower lip before sweeping his tongue in my mouth again. “So perfect. So sweet.” He grunts and moans. Then his words are nothing but fragments that accentuate every thrust.
“Good.”
“Mine.”
“Forever.”
“Coming.”
“Love.”
“You.”
My pussy clamps down on him as I come. His fingers at my waist tighten and he thrusts once more before finding his own release. I spasm and shudder as my body tingles from head to toe.
Slowly the noise in the arena comes back into focus. It’s louder now. The end of the period, maybe. The team will be here soon, but I’m not sure my legs can hold me yet.
“I love you so fucking much.” Travis rests his forehead against mine, then presses one last kiss to my lips. He picks me up and sets me on my feet in front of him seconds before I hear people outside the room.
I smooth down my skirt and send a prayer that I don’t look as disheveled as I feel when the first guys walk into the locker room. I’m certain my face is bright red. Travis is perfectly calm as he leans back against his locker.
Each of the guys gives me a nod, then looks to Travis.
Shep is the first to speak. “You all right? That cut looked pretty nasty.”
“All good,” Trav assures him.
I’m trapped as his teammates continue in a steady stream, walking in, peeling off layers, and taking a seat in front of their locker. Their head coach is the last to enter.
His brows lift and my cheeks flame hotter.
Travis gets to his feet and stands next to me. “Coach, have you met my wife?”
“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” he says, then holds out a hand to me. His brows tilt in disapproval, but his smile is friendly. He looks like a man who has seen it all – including women sneaking into his locker room.
“Hi.” I reach out to take his hand. “Hannah Bennett-Walsh.”