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I considered him. “Okay. How do you want todo this?”
“I have a plan! But, first, let’s go play our last gametogether.”
I gave his hands one last squeeze then dropped them. “Let’s do it!”
Epilogue
Next Season
“Heads up, Warren.”
I caught the tennis ball heading for my face and glared at the man who chucked it.
“Really, Hall?” I bitched. “I’m trying to focus here.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not your first time starting. But if you’re nervous that you can’t live up to my performance last night, I totally understand.”
I shook my head.
My new mentor was the weirdest goalie I’d ever met. Which was saying something, because all goalies are weird. We’re superstitious loners who like to talk to inanimate objects. Goaltenders’ eccentricities were so legendary at this point that they became the new norm. So, when I met Travis Hall when practice began for the new season, I was understandably freaked out. The man didn’t have a single pre-game ritual! Not only was that rare for any hockey player, it was unheard of fora goalie.
I honestly wasn’t sure if he was real at first. At our first introduction, he said his pre-game routine was “whatever he felt like doing that day.” It was the most unathletic thing I’d ever heard. Then I’d glanced down and almost keeled over. Who wore flip flops to the gym?
I was tempted to request a different mentor, and possibly a psych evaluation for him. Unfortunately, despite his weird normalcy, he was also a damn good goalie and was quickly becoming a great friend.
I tossed the ball back to him. “As if, old man. By the time I’m done, no one will even remember your name.”
The team was being very careful with Hall since his injury. He was scheduled to rest more during the first couple months of the season to make sure he didn’t fuck up his ACL again, which meant I was getting to play more games than most backup goalies. It was the second game of our season, though the first on our home ice, and I was more than ready to get back onthat ice.
Hall smirked and offered me a hand. “Then get off your ass, Warren. Your fans await.”
I let him pull me up out of my locker, then grabbed my gloves and mask. Hall fell back and let me waddle on my skates to the head of the line. As I passed him, I slapped Mason’s raised hand. I settled at the front of the lineup and the tunnel to the ice that openedbefore me.
Behind me, Jones clapped me on my shoulder pads.
“Alright, boys and girl,” Jones shouted. “Let’s show these guys the might of aBlizzard!”
The team hooted and hollered, our voice refracting off the concrete wall. Then we were off, following the tunnel until we could see the light coming from the end.
We emerged to deafening cheers.
Leading the team around the perimeter of the ice, I soaked in the sounds of the rink. This, right here, was my favorite place.
Well, one of my favorite places.
As if my family’s old seats were magnetized, my eyes immediately found section D. Instead of the usual strange faces that sat there, I recognized the occupants. The air left my lungs like I had taken a puck tothe ribs.
Drew andSebastian.
As if he had been watching me since I stepped onto the ice and was just waiting for me to find him, Sebastian met my eyes and smiled. It was the smile that I had seen every day over the off-season. I fought the urge to skate full speed through the plexiglass and intohis arms.
I barely reined myself in and gave him a friendly wave, hoping he could see the love in my eyes.
The lines on his temples creased, and he waved back.
Sebastian’s big plan had been going very well so far, if a little slow. We were still in stage one—friendship off the ice. The paparazzi probably had dozens of photos of us, some with Mason, Drew, Jones, and the occasional Berg. But more and more, Sebastian and I were being photographed alone together. Still, as far as the world knew, I was a full-blown lesbian.
But that would be changing in a couple days when we started stage two—coming out.
Mason and I were ready to make a splash. Our comments were already written out and everything. I was just glad that we were doing this together. Whatever happened, we wouldn’tbe alone.
If all went well, stage three would be a breeze. It was also the stage I was most looking forward to. I would finally be able to hold Sebastian’s hand in public. Maybe even kiss him. A fluffy feeling shot through my heart, and I only just held in my girlish squeal.
We were so close to our happy ending. I could practicallytaste it.
On my next lap around the ice, I snagged a puck and plowed to a stop in front of the sectionD boards.
I tossed the rubber disk up and over the glass tomy family.
