“Don’t be silly. You need to focus on your game, not us. Besides, I’m so fricken excited you’re playing for the Coyotes. Will you sign my jersey, Jake the Snake?”
Charlotte clutches her chest, batting her eyes at him dramatically. She’s teasing him, but damn, does it feel good.
CHAPTER 40
PAVEL
Good game Mac
TRISTAN
He’s back!
JAKE
Thanks boys. How’s it going? Is Carter helping you out?
PAVEL
Good
TRISTAN
Carter’s eggs suck ass. We started going to Huck’s for brekky.
JAKE
Aw Flea, don’t tell me you miss me?
TRISTAN
Hardly!
PAVEL
Yes
JAKE
Atidal wave of sound roars across the arena, thrumming through Jake’s veins. He grips his stick, muscles tense, eyes locked on the play as the Coyotes dominate the offensive zone. The air in the massive arena is buzzing.
He leans forward on the bench, the edge of his blade tapping against the boards in anticipation. Next to him, his linemate Jonesy grins.
“Damn right, eh?” Jones says, nudging him with his elbow.
Jake’s breath is still coming fast from his last shift. 4-1, Coyotes. A comfortable lead with five minutes left in the third. His body hums with exhaustion, but the good kind—the kind that comes from knowing he’s done his job.
“I could get used to this,” Jake admits, rolling out his shoulders. “Winning ain’t bad.”
Jones snorts. “Neither is pissing off their top line.”
Jake grins at that. It’s been a month since the trade, and while adjusting to a new team has its challenges, this part—being the guy who throws his weight around, who gets under the other team’s skin—comes naturally. He’s played his role to perfection, pissing off their opponent’s stars, getting them off their game, and making space for his own teammates to capitalize. Tonight alone, he’d drawn two penalties, chirped their captain into nearly dropping the gloves, and—best of all—scored a greasy goal off a rebound in the second period.
Yeah, he could definitely get used to this.
Jake tilts his head back, glancing up at the banners hanging from the rafters. The Coyotes have history, championships. The fans here care; he can feel it in the electricity of the building. And then there’s the city itself, so different from the cold grind of the East Coast. He likes the sunshine, the ocean, the way people in San Diego move like they have all the time in the world. It’s a change of pace, but not an unwelcome one.
And yet.
