Chapter 11
ELEVEN
ADDIE
SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
Nothing but thirty seconds stands between me and this win. Maybe it’s cocky to think it all rests on my shoulders, but we’ve got one goal on the board, and our opponent has none, so it’s accurate.
Maine’s center glides toward me, determination emanating from him.
The kid is incredible on the ice. His movements are so smooth that it looks like he’s flying, not skating, as he zig-zags around our defenders like they’re merely mirages.
If Sonic moved like him, he wouldn’t even lose coins from brushing against the other guys.
How could he when they can’t keep up? Can’t stop him?
Fuck.
He plays with the puck, tossing it back and forth with his stick using nothing but a flick of the wrist, taunting me.
I shuffle left to right, following his every move. When I expect him to come barreling into the net, he stops. The puck doesn’t leave his stick as he scoops it into the air and slings it toward my left shoulder.
Had I been relying on him to use a snap shot, like most players would have if they were open the way he is, I’d be expecting it to my right.
But JJ told me about this play. Warned me he’d probably try it.
So as the buzzer sounds, indicating the end of the game, I flip the puck up from my gloved hand and smile.
Take that, motherfucker.
That’s what they call a shutout.
My teammates rush me, jumping on top of me and knocking me over. I’m laughing and giddy. Effervescent, really. With that win, our team has earned a better spot in the finals, which means we’ll have a bye week and some-much needed rest.
One by one, the guys pull themselves up. Then a set of gloved hands heaves me to my skates.
JJ.
“Fuck yeah! I told you he’d try it,” JJ yells, pulling me into his arms and flinging me around like a rag doll.
Even beneath all this gear, I worry that he can feel my racing heart.
“You did,” I respond, out of breath. “Though I doubt you coulda stopped that shot like I did.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Always so humble, Addie Angles.”
I swallow the smile that tries to take over when he uses the nickname he gave me.
They all use it now. This team is different from any I’ve played for.
The guys seem to accept me even though I’m the only girl on the team.
JJ and I play almost equal amounts of time, which is practically unheard of at our level.
While I’m not the only girl in the league, I get a whole lot more ice time than the rest. And though I try not to pay attention to shit like that, JJ does.
He constantly laments how unfair it is. He’s sure there are other women who deserve the chance.
He’s my biggest champion. My biggest supporter.
Well, other than my dad. Right now, he’s screaming his head off from the stands, louder than anyone else here.
And when I get out of here, I’m guaranteed a giant hug from him.
My uncles are with him, all wearing big smiles and letting out raucous cheers.
My aunts and my mom sit with them too. Every single one of them is dressed in maroon, the team color, and they all have Addie bedazzled on the backs of their shirts.
When Aunt Lennox is involved, the Bedazzler always comes out. She’s fun like that.
With a wave to them, I head to the locker room.
Well, my pseudo locker room. The individual handicapped bathroom is as good as it gets here.
Honestly, it could be worse. This one has a shower, which means I don’t have to go home sweaty and stinky.
I’ve been to plenty of arenas where that’s my only option.
I shower quickly, throwing my hair up in a thick bun on top of my head, and once I’m dressed, I head outside.
My entire family is waiting, but my Uncle Brooks grabs me first. “That was incredible. That center was something else. I honestly would not have stopped that goal.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you would have. You’re the best goalie to ever play the game.”
He drags me into his chest for a hug. “Proud of you kid. One day the commentators are going to say that about you. Best goalie to ever play the game.”
His words send warmth rolling through me. Brooks is the kindest person on the planet. Soft spoken, even tempered, and oversized. He gives the best hugs and the greatest encouragement.
And most valuable of all, he gives me his time. On the ice, with yoga, workouts, watching tape. Uncle Brooks never tires of my questions or my requests to run a play one more time.
After I’ve hugged the whole crowd, my mom asks, “Are you hungry?”
I spot JJ hanging back, waiting for me, and shake my head. “Nah, I’ll be okay. I’m going to catch a ride home with JJ, if that’s okay.”
He’s the only teenager I’m allowed to ride with. Naturally, my overprotective father doesn’t trust anyone else. Not that it’s an issue. He and Sutton are really my only friends.
My dad cranes his neck, and when he spots JJ, he smiles and waves him over. “Great game tonight.”
JJ officially towers over my father. He’s also bulked up a lot in the last six months—a detail I try not to think about. I also try not to notice how gorgeous his blue eyes are or how every time I see him, I find myself staring at his lips and wondering what they would feel like against my own.
“Can’t say I had much to do with the result, but it was a great game, Mr. Langfield.”
My dad glares at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Beckett?”
JJ laughs. He’s known Dad long enough to understand his bluster. “Maybe a few more.”
“All right, take care of our baby girl,” my mother says. “Come on, babe. I’m starving.”
My father kisses my cheek, then winks. “Proud of you, Little One. Don’t be too late.”
The whole group disperses, and pretty soon, I’m left standing in the hall with JJ.
“I like what you did with your hair,” he says, eyeing it.
I shove a hand against his chest. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.” Laughing, he drapes an arm around my shoulder and guides me toward the main hallway.
As we wander closer to the exit and approach a few of the guys, he drops his arm and high fives them.
They joke around, saying stupid shit. But none of it registers. I’m too busy focusing on the girl standing a few feet away, staring at JJ, to make anything out.
Her strawberry blond hair is done in waves, and her tight top exposes a bit too much cleavage considering how fucking cold it is in the arena. Her black leather skirt might be the shortest I’ve ever seen. She either didn’t actually come into the game or she froze.
My guess is she only just got here.
I’ve seen her after a few of the games. And I’ve seen JJ talking to her. But I don’t know her name.
“Hey, JJ,” she says, sauntering closer.
Grinning, he swivels in her direction. “Hi, Tabitha. You see Addie’s amazing save?”
The girl, Tabitha, frowns like she has no idea what that means, but she recovers quickly, smiling. “No, but I did see you do an amazing job. Best goalie ever.”
JJ glances my way, covering a laugh with a cough. “Right.”
“Any chance you want to grab something to eat to celebrate your big win?” she asks, stepping closer.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to blow me off. When he doesn’t immediately, probably struggling after he promised my dad he’d keep me safe, I force a smile and take a step back. “You should go. I can catch a ride with one of the guys.”
His spine snaps straight and his brow creases. “What? Who?”
I shrug, hoping the move looks unbothered. “Um, Peters. He offered last time.”
“Did he, now?” he mutters, assessing our winger, his jaw flexing.
“Yeah, so you two should go,” I chirp with another step back. “Have fun.”
“Great,” Tabitha says, eyes bright, as she reaches for JJ’s hand.
He pulls it back before she can make contact. “Sorry, Tabs. I have plans.”
“But she just said she can catch a ride with someone else.”
Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as he glances my way. Then he shakes his head. “Nah, it’s not about the ride. We’ve got a date, right, Addie?”
My heart stutters. “A date?”
“Yeah, you, me, and a pepperoni pie.”
In an instant, the anxiety dissipates. Snorting, I say, “Yeah. We do.”
“Another time,” he says to Tabitha with a lift of his chin.
Her jaw practically falls open, but I don’t get to relish her reaction long because JJ immediately wraps an arm around me and guides me past her.
Rather than drop his arm once we’re out of sight of her like I expect, he keeps it there.
The warmth of it is comforting. He smells so fucking good too.
Like soap and cologne and JJ. A hint of icy cold mixed with this woodsy whiskey scent I can never quite get enough of.
“You could have gone with her. She was pretty,” I say cautiously.
He hits the key fob, and his car lights flash. He finally drops his arm and pulls open the passenger door. “Was she?”
Shivering at the loss of his heat, I stand a little straighter. “You could have said yes, you know. I would have been fine.”
The intensity in his stare makes me worry he can read my mind. “Right, with Peters.”
I let out an awkward pfft. “Or by myself.”
With a shake of his head, he steps back, giving me room to get in. “Well, you’re stuck with me.”
I shrug. “And you’re stuck with me.”
His lips hook to one side. “Sounds like the perfect night. Come on, I wasn’t kidding. We’re getting Antonio’s.”