Chapter Twenty-Nine
Moskins
I’m not sure I ever knew the definition of love until I met Winter Bronte. I’d experienced different levels of the four-letter word, but it never sank in the way it has its grasp on me whenever the blonde is nearby.
But when I see the blonde and her sister in jerseys with my name and number on them from the friends and family suite at our first game, almost a month later, that feeling blossoms in my chest—a warmth so deep that I barely feel the cold of the rink.
She spent the last week watching videos on how hockey works and asking me questions each time we saw each other to better understand the game so that she would be prepared.
Then, two days ago, she showed up at my house with a pan covered in tinfoil. It smelled like chocolate and sugar, and I couldn’t help but grin when I saw what was inside.
A cake. Chocolate. “For your sweet tooth,” she’d said. There were two number-shaped candles that made a larger number I silently hated because it meant I was another year closer to retirement. But until then, I’d embrace thirty-six like I embraced everything else. With pride and vengeance.
Since Emaly’s threats toward her father, he hasn’t tried benching me. I’m not sure what she has on him or his business tactics, and I don’t think she’ll ever tell me. That’ll be her secret to keep unless he warrants it to be told. And it won’t be to me, but the media contacts she has now.
Maybe when I’m a free agent, I can move on from the Fireflies. Hell, maybe by then I’ll be ready to hang up my skates and do something else with my life. For right now, though, I have no intention of letting Mikhail, my age, or anybody else get in the way of what I want.
To win.
To be on the ice and feel the cold on my face.
Every time my blades meet the frozen surface, I’m reminded of the very first time I ever stepped an uncoordinated foot onto that frozen pond as a pre-teen.
Emaly held my hands as she helped me learn how to stand, balance, and turn on the borrowed skates.
She came to my high school games. She cheered me on the way Winter is doing right now.
And for the first time in my life, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.
A hand comes down on my back. “Tongue back in your mouth and boner in check, Moskins,” Clarkson orders with a knowing grin. “We’ve got a game to win.”
One of my eyebrows quirks up as I gesture toward the scoreboard. We’re in the lead.
By a lot.
“I don’t think we have to worry, Cap,” I bemuse. “But I’m grateful you’re concerned for the state of my cock. He appreciates it.”
He rolls his eyes. “Head in the game, jackass.”
I salute him. “Always.”
I give another cursory look at the crowd. “I don’t see Belle. Did your stepsister have better things to do?”
His nostrils flare, and a passive expression crosses his face. Once again, he says, “Head in the game.” But with a bite to his tone.
There is definitely trouble in paradise.
“And Moskins,” Clarkson says as he starts skating away, “It’s about time you pulled your head out of your ass.”
I can’t help but laugh and lift my gaze to the blonde with red streaks in her hair. She’d asked her sister for help dyeing the strands and wouldn’t let me see the results until today.
It’s the same red as her jersey.
Red for our team.
I lift a hand to wave and wink in her direction, not realizing there’s a camera on me that’s cast onto the large screens hovering above us so the crowd can see everything better.
Kourtney, a spitfire who doesn’t mince her words, nudges Winter with a grin on her face as the crowd reacts to my flirty grin.
I like her sister. Not only because she watches out for Winter, but because she doesn’t play with words.
The first time I met her was two weeks ago, and she’d jabbed her finger into my chest and heeded a warning. “If you break my sister’s heart, I’ll personally rip yours out of your chest and feed it to your cat.”
To which Winter turned red, yelled at her older sister, and made a comment about how Kourtney needs to stop holding a grudge against cats just because she didn’t like Melvin, whoever the fuck that was.
But that didn’t stop her sister from turning back to me with a mischievous grin and say, “I also am going to need you to look into vending machines.”
Their dynamic is strange but loving. And because I don’t want to mess with the all-encompassing force that is Kourtney, I’ll start looking into vending machines as soon as I drop her and Winter off after we win our first game.