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Marrying Chels was the best day of my life, even better than the day I was drafted to the Crushers. Hockey won’t be forever but what Chelsea and I have, it will last till the end of time, and even then, it won’t be enough.
CHAPTER2
CHELSEA
… LATE OCTOBER
The new hockey season is underway and the Crushers are currently at the top of the leader board. I love watching hockey but I hate it when the Crushers play the LA Legends because my ex, Stefan Däuchmen—affectionately nicknamed Doucheman because well, he’s a douche and lives up to the douche in his name—plays dirty, on and off the ice, especially when it comes to my husband.
You’d think he’d have given up on his grudge now that we’re married, but nope, he’s still a douche with a capital D. It’s not as volatile but it’s no picnic in Central Park either, and I think that’s due to his handler, Wren Brooks. Yep, Stefan now has a babysitter. Wren was hired by the LA Legends management and board to keep him in line and work on his image. She seems like the nicest girl ever, and I feel sorry for her having to babysit him.
On the ice, Stefan is an amazing player but off the ice, well, he’s not so amazing. For the most part, since she started working with him, he’s kept himself in line on and off the ice, but once a douche always a douche. I really hope they’re paying her big, super-huge bucks because I have no doubt she’s working twenty-four seven, three hundred and sixty-five days of the year keeping his douchey ass in line. I bet she’s thankful that leap years only happen once every four years, and we just had one. Hopefully, by the time the next one comes around, she will be free of the douche and his antics.
We are in the final period and there are two minutes left on the clock and these two minutes are turning into the longest two minutes of my life. My heart is racing. My palms are sweaty and I feel like I’m going to throw up, again. This game is intense.
There’s only one minute remaining and the score is tied, three to three. Doucheman has the puck and he’s headed straight for Kal in the net. The rest of the Crushers seem off in la-la land because Doucheman easily makes his way through them. Weaving in and out of them, the only one who’s trying to stop him is JJ.
We’re now down to twenty-six seconds left in the game and it’s all going to come down to this shot. Everyone in the stadium is on the edge of their seat. The atmosphere is electric and my heart is beating so fast, I’m expecting it to beat through my rib cage and land at my feet. “Come on, baby, you’ve got this,” I chant to myself over and over. I’m now rocking back and forth in my seat watching Doucheman skate closer and closer to the net, and Kal.
He raises his stick and swings, executing a perfect slap shot. I jump to my feet and watch the puck sail through the air. Kal reaches out just as the siren blares and there’s a collective gasp from those around me.
“Where’s the puck?” someone from next to me asks. Just as they finish their question, Kal opens his glove and the puck falls to the ice, he saved it. They will now go into overtime.
The Crushers fans go crazy, as does the rest of the team on the ice. They all skate up to Kal and slap him on the back and helmet, while Doucheman stands there in shock that the puck was stopped. From the look on his face, he’s pissed. No doubt Wren will be scrambling to stop him from going into douche mode as soon as the game is over.
Five minutes later, they take the ice again and Doucheman is out for blood. He’s returned to the ice like a raging bull with a red flag waving in his face. He’s body checking left, right, and center, determined to not let the Crushers score. He’s just Kronwalled JJ into the plexiglass and has the puck, he makes a breakaway and is headed for the goal and Kallen.
Once again it all comes down to Kallen against Stefan.
Like the last period, my eyes are locked on him as he makes his way down the ice. He really is a great athlete, it’s just a shame about his personality and persona. Kal is watching him intently, much like I’m watching them.
Stefan is flying down the ice, he’s got some speed behind him, rather than launching into another slap shot, he heads straight for Kal and the goal. He’s going for a wraparound this time and skates to the right, knowing that Kal’s left isn’t as good as his right. He circles the back of the net and with a flick of the wrist, hits the puck, and it sails past Kal into the net.
The Legends win.
“Puck,” I mumble to myself as I jump up from my seat and quickly make my way into the belly of the stadium to wait for Kal. He’s going to be devastated. Losses always suck but when he loses to Stefan, it’s always harder to take.
It feels like it’s taking him forever to come out. His teammate, JJ, and Lexi, the team’s physical therapist and now JJ’s girl, exit first. “How is he?” I ask, pushing off the wall to walk over to them.
“I think you know how he is,” he replies. His face confirms what I thought, Kal is pissed at himself for the loss.
“Puck,” I mumble, just as a wave of nausea rolls over me. Racing over to the nearest trash can, I empty the contents of my stomach. This bug is just lingering, every time I think I’m better, it strikes again.
“You okay, Chels?” Lexi asks me, running her hand over my back.
“Yeah, that bug I picked up in Cleveland last week is still hanging on. Add in the nerves of the game just now, and well, my nachos decided I needed to taste what they’re like on the way up. FYI, not as good coming up as going down.”
“Duly noted, let me get you some water to wash away that nacho-flavored vomit.”
“Thanks,” I mumble as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I’ll get it,” JJ offers. I watch as he reenters the dressing room, leaving me to lean against the cinder block wall. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, willing myself not to barf again.
“Maybe you're pregnant,” Lexi teases from beside me.
“Yeah, nah, it’s just that bug. Dad was sick too if you remember.”
“True,” she agrees, “but you and your husband do bang a lot.”
