My gut has never led me wrong. Never. I mean, occasionally it gets confused between decision and indigestion. But it hasn’t let me make a bad call yet.
When I was applying for college, I was offered a hockey scholarship to a few different places. My gut told me to stay local, to stay home, to stay close to Mom. Two weeks after the term started, my grandpa suffered a major stroke and died.
Like I said, my gut is never wrong.
And my gut tells me this woman is important.
As I make my way to the ice rink for our game, I can’t get her out of my head. The smoothness of her skin, how ticklish she is, twitching and jerking under my featherlight touch, and how she responded to my tongue.
If I had the choice, I’d still be in bed with her. Swallowing down a yawn, I loosen my shoulders. My muscles are heavy with exhaustion from a long and active night. Making Sigyn come is almost as good as playing hockey. Maybe even better. But if my teammates ever heard me say that they’d never let me live it down.
Rein it in, rookie.
So I’ll tuck it inside my chest, and message the new woman in my life as soon as I get off the ice. Another few hours won’t kill me.
With a groan, I grip the back of my neck.
It might actually kill me.
I want to know everything about her. From the moment she was born. Who is she? What does she like and dislike? Who are her friends? Her family? What does she want to do with her life? Who’s the asshole that hurt her?
I want to thank him for being such a stupid fuck and letting her go.
Warm up is a blur. For the first time in a long time I’m distracted from the game that lives inside my veins.
“The fuck was that?”
“Leave him alone, Coop.” Our captain, August Cade, smacks Cooper Duke on the ass with his twig.
“We’re all thinking it.” Coop points at me as he retorts. “Get your head in the game or their defense will destroy you.”
They’re the last words he says to me before he disappears into the locker room. No one else says anything, but I do get a couple concerned glances. Didn’t think I was quite that bad in warm up, but I guess I was more distracted than I thought.
Fuck.
August takes me aside before we walk into the locker room. “You need to talk about anything?”
Definitely not. “I’m good.”
“You missed morning skate.” He pats my shoulder. “And you barely managed to stay upright for warm up. You gonna make it through the game?”
We’re playing the Flint Flames. And AJ Williams is the toughest defenseman in the league. I’ve heard that if he checks you, you see literal stars. So far, he hasn’t managed to land one on me.
And he’s not starting today.
“I’m fine, Cap. Had the shits this morning. But I’m good now. Promise.” I tap my gloves to my temple. “Scouts honor.”
I need to be fine. My whole future is tethered to this scholarship. If I get benched, I’m fucked. I have to play my best, every single fucking game. No matter whose bed I’d rather be in. If things progress with Sigyn, I’m going to need to channel better self-restraint.
Starting to sound like Mom. Homework first. Hockey first. Then hobbies and funtime.
Ugh. So boring.
But she’s not wrong.
The game starts with a buzzing energy in my stomach I can’t tamp down. I don’t want to. And before I know it, we’ve played almost three full periods of hockey.
We’re up 3-2 in the final minutes of regulation time. Despite having scored one of our three goals, the coach skips over my line when calling for changes. I hover on the bench, poised and ready. He’s got to call my line, he just has to.
