Page 137 of Truly, Madly, Deeply


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Jaime had played regularly for twenty years. Between the college team, the Juniors, and the professional forwards he’d worked with, his muscle memory knew how to react to any situation.

But he’d never played in an NHL stadium.

You got this.

You’ve been training your whole life. You’re ready.

Play your game. Stay focused. Get the job done.

Here we go. The centers lined up next to the ref, and the puck dropped.

Time to dial in.

The puck was flying around, and he never let it leave his sight.

Lefty coming down my off side dot lane. He’s looking cross ice. His blade is open.

Jaime’s gaze cut across to see who he was passing to. It was a righty.

Hips open. Stick tickling the ceiling, it’s wound up high. He wants the one-timer.

There it goes. The puck shot across.

Jaime slid over and made the save.

Fuck, yeah.

The rebound shot across, and Jaime tracked it down the left side. One of their guys grabbed it off the wall and started moving towards the net. Out of his peripherals, he saw another skater on his right.

It’s a 2v1.

Only four seconds.

Let the defenseman take the pass away and focus on the shooter.

The guy shot it on the ice.

This is it.Jaime made a pad save. The rebound kicked it out to the other player.

Get across and take away everything low. Make him beat you.

He stretched out and made the save right before the buzzer blared.

The crowd roared and got to their feet. The Renegades swarmed him. Cole cupped the back of his helmet, shouting something Jaime couldn’t make out.

I did it.

I fucking did it.

I just won my first NHL game.

ChapterTwenty

As she walkedalong the side of the house, Grace could hear the squeals and shrieks of laughter from the backyard. Her heart could barely stand being a guest at the party she’d hoped to help plan.

But it’s fine. I’m fine.It was a beautiful day. Early September in the mountains was cool enough to need a sweater but still sunny and lovely.

She walked carefully. If she dropped this croquembouche, it would be the last straw, and she’d cry. Because she’d gone all out—it wasn’t just a tower. She’d designed it to look like a castle.

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