Page 49 of Holding Penalty

Might as well just come right out with it.

“Nash, I think we need to live together.”

22

NASH

The first game of the preseason. My first time skating out fully dressed with my teammates since we missed the playoffs last April.

You never know how many of these you have. Any season could be your last. Any game could be your last. One thing’s for sure, now that I’m pushing thirty, I can hear the clock ticking.

When I was younger, playing in high school and college and early in my pro career, I took these moments for granted. I just assumed that these opening games would continue to be part of my life every year, like the sun rising in the morning.

Now I’m old and wise enough to know that’s not true. I’m not sure how many seasons I have left, but I know it’s a finite number. I know my last one is going to come sooner than I want it to.

I’ve been telling myself to appreciate it all more, to take time and let it sink in.

So, I should be relishing this moment, as we all take our positions for the puck drop that inaugurates the preseason. I should want to savor it, to drink it in and appreciate it for as long as I can.

Instead, I’m impatient for it to be over. Right now, this rink isn’t the place I want to be the most.

Right now, I want to be home.

I’ve never felt that way before, wanting to be home instead of on the ice. But today, it’s different.

Because today, Piper is moving into my house.

I’d rather be helping my fake wife move into my house instead of playing the game I’ve dedicated my life to. That’s a concerning realization. Luckily, I can’t dwell on it too long, because the referee releases the puck.

Cooper wins the face-off and dumps the puck back to Adriano. For the next twenty minutes, I only think about hockey.

Denver’s team has built up a ton of buzz in the offseason. They made a couple big trades, and a promising rookie they drafted, Rhett Jensen, decided to leave college and come up to the pros.

They’re playing with a lot of heart and determination, just like we are. No one’s taking this preseason game lightly, with the puck hotly contested all period long and plenty of shots on goal from both sides. But the first period still ends scoreless.

In the second period, Hayden intercepts a pass and grabs the puck, passing it to Adriano, who uses his insane speed to skate up the ice in a breakaway. His shot ricochets off the Denver goal post, but it bounces right in my direction, and I slap shot it into the net for our first score of the season.

“Fuck yeah, Nash!” Hayden exclaims, jumping onto my back.

“Hell of a shot there, Miller,” Cooper says, slapping me on the helmet after I shrug Hayden off.

“You’re welcome for the setup,” Adriano quips.

Even Vaughn strips off one of his gloves to shoot me a thumbs-up from our net.

“That shot was insane, Nash,” Noah says, skating up to join the mini celebration. “How the hell’d you pull that off?”

I grin. “What can I say? I guess I play better as a married man.”

When I park my truck and look through my windshield into the front yard, my jaw almost falls into my lap.

Fucking hell.

Piper is lying on a beach chair, in a tiny bikini, sunbathing in front of my house.

Heat pumps through my blood, desire roaring to life behind my chest. This is how a man is supposed to feel about his wife. But this marriage is fake, and I need to be able to keep my composure if I’m going to live with Piper for a couple months and not go insane.

My eyelids have ceased to work. My eyes devour the sight of Piper’s body, her sun-kissed skin making my mouth water, making my palms buzz with the thought of how it would feel to rake them across her curves.