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“You good to go?” Ashton pats me on the back as we suit up back at the stadium and get ready to get on the ice. The music is already blaring from backstage with the commentators introducing our opposition, the New York Kings.
“Good as I’ll ever be.” I give him a wink. I know he worries about me.
Jay comes running up behind us, practically tucking his dick back in. He’s been missing for the better part of the afternoon.
I shake my head at him. “Seriously, brother?”
“It gets me fired up for the game,” he insists, strapping his helmet on and giving us a cheeky side grin.
“Puck bunny heaven?” Ashton quips.
“Of course.” Jay smirks. “You shoulda seen her, dudes. Her tits were bigger than her head!”
We both laugh as the commentators announce us and the roll call begins.
“Luckily, we have you to keep us entertained.” Ashton shakes his head.
Jay shrugs like he’s on the outside of his own jokes. Jay is like the plumber of the team; while he may not be the best of the best, he’s hard working on the ice and does all the dirty work in the corners. And fuck, we love him.
I roll my eyes, standing there waiting to be called. I know she’s fucking out there; I can feel it in my bones as sure as I can feel the cold creeping into my veins from getting closer and closer to the ice.
I don’t know why it feels good to think like that, the fact she could be in the stands. It shouldn’t feel good, it should almost be weird.
This isn’t a good thing. This woman broke me, and I fucking suffered the aftermath after she left.
Am I really supposed to go out there and play for my life and my team like nothing is going on right now, knowing she’s watching? Like it doesn’t affect me at all.
My head tells me to shut the fuck up, and my heart tugs another way and tries to intervene, but I shut it down as I hear my name. I don’t need my head or my heart contradicting themselves, I just need quiet. Even in a packed stadium, I can find a way to shut out the noise.
It’s showtime.
I’m not about to lose everything I’ve worked for because Emmerson Daley is in the stands. Not gonna happen.
* * *
We’ve managed to not let New York score halfway through the first period. The arena is a fucking monster pit, with fans fired up more than usual because everyone knows I have a rivalry with Ace Brixton. He’s the flashy defender for the New York Kings and he thinks he’s fucking king of the world.
I have to be on my A game because Ace doesn’t come here to play, he comes here to destroy and conquer, and fuck if I’m going to give him the satisfaction of doing that in front of my own crowd…andin front of her.
I purposefully don’t look out into the stands, as I don’t want to get distracted.
I also know my father will be out there somewhere, he always is. He still comes to every damn game, and I still haven’t had a decent conversation with him in forever.
I don’t know where the girls are seated, but Ty was harping on about Cindy having special seats right behind the players bench, but that remains to be seen.
The game flows faster and dirtier than normal, and there’s no love lost between us and the Kings. I wanna finish this up, put it to bed, and fucking move on with my night.
As I skate fluidly along the ice, the puck gliding along with me, I dodge around a huge defenseman and fake a pass to my left, while swerving to my right and slapshot my way to a goal. It’s the perfect clapper. The crowd roars.
My team cheers, and I wave my stick in the air, urging the crowd to cheer more wildly. It’s deafening, and I feel the energy purge through my veins, igniting a spark within me that makes me feel born again.
This is what I was fucking born to do.
“Hell yes!” Ashton and the guys slap me on the back, and I spare a glance over to the players’ bench. I do see a bunch of girls sitting behind it, but I’m too far away to make anything out. Just as well.
We celebrate our goal and quickly get things back on track. I’m just getting warmed up.
I’m here to win. I’m fucking Taylor James. I’m not here to pussy around.
