“We will. Don’t worry. But it’s not time yet.”
“Then when?” she huffs.
“Before the wedding. We can’t let that monster marry Mr. Kensington.”
“God, could you imagine? It’d be like marrying the actual Devil. The Devil would honestly probably be nicer than that hag,” Jules groans.
Grinning, I pull her back in for another hug, the crushing loneliness fading ever so slightly from my chest. “You’re the best.”
I may not have social media accounts, but I do manage to sign up for the streaming service broadcasting the Legends game tonight.
I take a picture, keeping the image isolated to the screen so they don’t recognize any furniture or anything.
*attached photo* Good luck, boys. I’m cheering for you.
I don’t get a response, but that’s because they’re already on the ice, skating around for warm-ups.
God, they look intimidating, powerful.
I’ve never paid much attention to hockey before I met them, but there’s a beauty to the sport and the controlled violence. They make it all look so easy when I know I would look like a literal fish out of water if I were out there.
They’re playing the Reapers, and with a little search, I find that they lost to them the last time the two teams faced each other. It was only by one goal though.
Nerves wreak havoc inside of me as the game begins, and I hang on to every second, pass, hit, and moment. I don’t know how Alora and Blair do this all the time. It’s so intense.
One of the Reapers players rams into Asher, sending him flying into the boards headfirst, and my heart leaps into mythroat, blocking off my airway as I wait for him to move and get up.
But he stays down, and I cover my mouth, every hair on my body standing on end.
“Get up. Get up,” I murmur, watching my phone so intently that I worry it’ll catch fire.
Dean takes off after the guy who hit Asher, dropping his gloves and ripping off his helmet.
He mauls the player, seeking justice for Asher, who is finally starting to sit up. My eyes are bouncing all over the screen, as I’m unsure of who I should pay more attention to.
Dean always seems like the sweeter and calmer of the two, but watching him unleash himself on the Reapers player has me second-guessing what I thought I knew about him.
I think he’s just as passionate as Asher, if not more. He just keeps it all inside.
Dean’s relentless, beating the guy into the ice until the refs have to physically tear them apart. Dean is still shouting and trying to get at him.
At the same time, Asher is getting to his feet, and the crowd erupts in joy.
There’s one thing I’ve learned about hockey: no one wants to see a serious injury.
A hard hit? Yes. A fight? Yes. But no one, no matter what team you’re cheering for, wants to see someone get dangerously hurt—as long as that person isn’t a garbage human, I suppose.
If I wasn’t clutching my phone like my life depended on it, I’d be clapping too. My eyes well up with tears, and my heart aches as I take a deep breath, realizing I haven’t fully breathed since he went down.
My heart is pounding harder than ever, my anxiety and emotions at an all-time high.
I know I like them both; that’s never escaped me.
But the things I’m feeling right now … areintense. Serious. These feelings are sinking bone deep, rooting into the very DNA of my being with no sign of ever leaving.
God, I’m really falling for them, aren’t I?
I mean, why wouldn’t I be? How can I not?
