Chapter 33
DANIEL
“You want me to show you how to put the biscuit in the basket, Maverick—Oof.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m sliding backward on my ass after being blindsided. What the actual fuck?
“Landers!” Coach yells. “Out. Now.”
Skating away, Landers throws his arms up like he didn’t just body check one of his own teammates. “Come on, Coach. It’s not my fault he can’t take a hit.”
Kovlov circles me once before skidding to a stop. He watches me warily as I get to my feet, as if he’s trying to decide how to handle a pissed-off me.
“He’s a goon on the ice, Mav,” Kovlov says.
I stare at him. “No fucking shit.” Adjusting a glove, I skate toward the bench. “Well, that goon is about to get his teeth knocked the fuck out.”
Today started out so well with a FaceTime call with Sunshine.
I got to practice early, felt like a million bucks, and then it all went to shit with these new twentysomething kids the franchise picked up in the offseason.
I won’t take their shit. That was Landers’s free hit.
He’ll pay a price the next time. They’ll learn that I’m not the one to fuck with.
I only wish the learning curve wasn’t so steep.
Slamming my skates into the wall, I glare at Coach. “You going to handle your boy?”
“Working on it.” He moves down the bench, standing in front of me. “Stop antagonizing him.”
“Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I didn’t stutter, Sutton.”
My jaw dusts the ground. “It’s my fault? I’ve done a lot of shit, for sure, but I’ve never taken out a teammate.”
Coach dips his chin, glaring at me. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”
“I stand corrected,” I say, unflinching. “I’ve never taken out a teammate who didn’t deserve it.”
“Neither has Landers.” He turns away from me, clapping his hands to gather the team’s attention. “Get back out there, Landers. Try to remember you’re on the same team as Sutton.”
Landers skates by me, pointedly not looking my way. He’s skating a little stiffer than usual. It’s the posture of someone who knows they now have a mark on their forehead.
Good.
“Don’t fuck with the big dogs, little puppy, or you’re going to find out who’s boss in this barn,” I yell at him.
He keeps skating, giving no indication that he heard me. But he did. We both know it.
I take a breath and give myself a second to recenter.
There’s so much work to be done before the season starts, and by the looks of things, I’m not sure the preseason is enough time to get our shit together.
There’s a lot of talent on the ice, and we’re fortunate to have veterans back for another year.
But we’re just not gelling as a team. We’re not coming together.
And if these new guys don’t step up and get their heads on straight, we never will.
I glance at Coach. “You sure you can pull this team together in two weeks before preseason starts?”
He takes off his hat, scratching between the few hairs hanging on for dear life. His gaze sweeps across the arena. With every inch it moves, his frown deepens.
“This is what we have to work with,” he says, putting his hat back on. “We have the best players in the league. If we can stop the rookie’s bad habits and the veteran’s egos, we might have a chance.”
I feel his sigh in my hockey soul.
“Whatever happens,” I say. “It’s going to be a hell of a season.”
“It sure is.” He motions for me to get back on the ice. “Now let’s get to work.”
The next few hours go by quickly—thankfully, with no additional blindsides or bullshit. Everyone puts their heads down and does their job. By the end of practice, I’m slightly more hopeful that we can create some semblance of an actual team before we take the ice against an opponent.
I hang around the bench until everyone else has gone to the locker room, then grab my stick and a puck.
It’s my favorite time of the workday. With the arena quiet and my body calm after a blistering practice, I have the place to myself.
I missed having the warm-up before practice because I had to run a few errands.
Important, but it stole the time I like to put in prior to dealing with others.
This is where champions are made. It’s where you get ahead. Working on the basics, creating muscle memory—putting in time when everyone else is relaxing. This is the time that matters.
I work on a few shots that gave me a bit of trouble today and kill another hour. It’s one hour less I’ll have at home, missing Summer.
Fuck, I miss her.
I miss the way she laughs at the most random things and the way her smile lights up my insides. I crave her touch, kisses, the taste of her tongue first thing in the morning. Every day without her feels off. Unbalanced. Incomplete. Less in every way.
I just . . . I love her.
“Screw this,” I mutter, heading for the tunnel. I need to hear her voice. In reality, I need to see her, to touch her, but hearing her voice will have to suffice.
But just as I turn toward the exit, it’s not the mouth of the tunnel that catches my eye. It’s the woman in the stands just to the right of it.
Ten rows up.
Summer stands.
My speed slows and a smile stretches across my face. She’s here? As if she sensed the desperation I’ve been feeling.
She comes running down the steps to the edge of the tunnel and leans over. “Can I have your autograph, Maverick?” she teases.
Setting my stick against the wall, I chuckle. “I can do you one better.” I pull off my gloves, dropping them on the floor and dumping my helmet right after.
I missed that smile shining for me like I’m the only one in the world deserving of its light.
“Oh yeah?” she asks, grinning. “What’s that?”
“I’ll show you.”
Planting that fine ass of hers on the ledge, she swings her legs over. “You got me?”
“I got you.” I’ll always have you, Sunshine. She hops into my arms, and I turn, heading back onto the ice. “Hold on.” Wrapping her legs around my center, she loops her arms around my neck.
Her giggle melts me. Having her in my arms knocks a weight that I’ve been carrying across my shoulders onto the rink. For a few moments, at least, my world is righted on its axis. Complete.
“What are we doing, babe?” she asks.
“Babe? I like that.” I grin at her, still not believing my own eyes. “Just thought I’d take you for a spin.”
She caresses my face, her thumb running under my eye where a bruise is healing. She places a kiss there. “I don’t like this.”
“Part of the game.”
“I still don’t like it.” She looks at me, her eyes soft at the edges. “I missed you. A lot.” In a heated crush, her lips find mine.
The lights in the arena seem to fade, and the sound of my skates cutting through the ice grows distant. It’s just my girl and me together like it should always be.
Far too soon, she pulls away. “I needed that.”
“I need much more than that.” I kiss her again. “Let me get changed, and I’ll show you all you’ve missed.”
Her smile falters. “I can’t.”
I flinch, pulling away to see more of her face. What does she mean she can’t? She drove all this way. “Surely, you’re coming home with me, right?”
“I have about ten minutes before my car gets towed,” she says, then catches herself. “Fall’s car, actually. If it hasn’t already.”
“What are you talking about?”
She sighs. “My car is still out of commission, so I borrowed Fall’s.
But she has an overnight shift at the hospital, so I promised her that I would be back before then.
But I couldn’t find parking since the arena garage is closed.
So I parked in a loading and unloading zone at the end of the block.
Her eyes widen. “I probably need to go.”
“You came here for a kiss?” I ask, confused. Not that I’m mad about it, but it seems like a little wild decision . . . even for Summer.
“No. I came here to give you something.”
I skate back to the tunnel and set her back on her feet. “They have delivery companies these days, you know.”
She laughs. “I know. But this needed to be hand-delivered. With a kiss.”
I pop my skate guards on the blades and step off the ice just in time for her to hand me an envelope with my name on it.
“What’s this?” I ask, starting to open it.
She places her hand on mine. “Wait. Don’t open it in front of me.”
“Why?” Shit. My stomach drops. Is this a break—
“It’ll be embarrassing.”
“For whom?” I ask, holding it on my palm like it’s a hot potato.
She grins. “Me.”
My hackles lower. My curiosity is piqued, but I would never want to embarrass her—even if I’m dying to know what was so important that she drove all this way to hand deliver an envelope just to turn right back around to drive back again.
“I really gotta go,” she says, frowning. “It was so . . .” She sighs, but this time, a smile spreads like it’s staying put. “It was good to see you. You look great. Sexy on that ice.”
“You’re beautiful, as always.” Her hair is pulled back, and she’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans that fit just right. Damn, she looks good. “You sure you can’t stay? I can be outta here in five minutes if I skip the shower.”
She reaches up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss against my lips. “I can’t. I love you, though.”
“I love you, too, so much.”
Her cheeks flush before she kisses me again. Then she turns to leave, picking up pace the further she gets away from me.
“Summer?” I call out.
“I’m really probably getting towed,” she says over her shoulder. “Call me when you get into your car. I have a long drive, and we can chat on my way back to the Cove.” She turns a corner and is gone.
What the hell just happened here?
I get to the empty locker room to remove my skates and stretch. My muscles are tight, but the envelope Summer gave me is too enticing to ignore.
Dear Daniel,
You were right.
You make me feel safe
. . . Our home.
It will be our place together, where we can raise Roman and maybe our own children.
. . . You’re not here.
You are my home. You are my everything.
XOXO,
Summer
My heart pounds as my eyes bounce through her words once more before they settle inside my brain. This means . . .
“Fuck!”