Chapter Nineteen
Madison and I slide into an awesome routine. We go out on “secret” dates, and no one is the wiser. We also spend a lot of time at my house. I give her a drawer and part of my closet, plus some bathroom space as well, for her toiletries and such.
Surprisingly, none of this puts me in a panic.
Fuck, I can’t believe it, but I like having a girlfriend.
And I really like that she’s all mine.
I don’t know if I’m ready to admit it—to her or to myself—but I think I may be truly falling for Madison Ellery.
Could it be love?
Shit, I’m scared of that word.
Then again, we had a couple of away games, and I missed Madison like you wouldn’t believe, even though we texted and talked on the phone a lot.
It just wasn’t enough.
I wanted her close to me.
I needed to hold her.
Which is exactly what I did the minute I got home. I drove straight from the airport to her house, where I wrapped her up in my arms as soon as she opened the door.
I then had her over and over, again and again—in her bedroom, in the living room. Hell, once we even did it up against the kitchen counter.
That was fun.
She was right there with me, too, with that need to connect. I felt it.
This all happened yesterday and last night. I slept over at her house, and I would’ve liked to have just stayed in bed with her all day today and into the evening, but we have a game.
A game that is going on right the fuck now!
We’re playing the Boston Bruins, and it’s already late in the third period. I’m on the bench at the moment, until my line is up.
It sucks that Madison isn’t at this game, but that’s okay. She’s watching it at my house, waiting for me to get home to her.
Unfortunately, the Bears are losing this one by three goals. I don’t think we can catch up. It’s just one of those off nights for the team.
I’m doing okay, though—I racked up an assist on our one goal.
But the rest of the team is just playing blah.
When I hop back out onto the ice with my linemates, Easton and Shane, one of Boston’s dirtier players checks me hard into the boards.
“Fuck, I don’t even have the puck, dude!” I yell at him.
The ref is on it, and he’s getting a penalty for boarding. But he’s not leaving the ice. He’s starting up with me, pushing and shoving.
“You wanna go?” he chides.
“Fuck off,” I tell him as I push him back.
“You fuck off, Foley,” he retorts.
That’s it.
We go at it then.
I get in some good shots, but he knocks my helmet off and punches me in the eye. Luckily, it’s a weak hit, but I know I’ll have a nice shiner for the next couple of days.
The refs finally separate us, and we both get sent to the penalty box.
My adrenaline is through the roof now.
All I want to do is get this game over with and go home to Madison.
One thing’s for sure—with all this excess energy I have in me, that girl is going to get a good fucking tonight.