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"As good as I'll feel beating your ass in front of our adoring public," I growled.
As much as I loved Pete with my entire heart, it was still easy to channel some of that old rivalry from our active player days.
In the next few minutes, someone found rocks to mark each goal, and the game was on. The puck slid a little unevenly over the asphalt and the sound of sticks clashing filled the air.
Jensen moved forward, skillful as always, but I intercepted, passing the puck to Waller, who took it to the goal.
"Damn it, no fair, Hoss. Waller's a ringer,” Pete called out. “He’s supposed to be a goalie.”
“Hey, you manage your team, and I’ll manage mine,” I laughed, taking my position again.
The game was fierce but friendly, each of us falling back into those easy roles we had on the ice—only this was rougher around the edges, less predictable, and downright fun.
Jensen took control of the puck, moving with the kind of reckless speed that made him a force to be reckoned with during the season. He dodged one, then two of my defenders, and then took a shot.
It was a miss, but damn, was it close.
“That was a close one. Next is in the net.” Pete taunted, catching the puck on his stick and aiming it my way.
I caught it. “I think you meant your net,” I chuckled, lining up my aim.
Before I could take the shot, a chorus of cheers erupted from a block away. I turned to see a bunch of kids, some familiar faces from my infamous mascot escapade, running toward us, sticks in hand.
"We want in,” one of them shouted.
Pete looked at me. I shrugged. "The more, the merrier."
We divided the kids between the two teams, and for a while, it was the Cougars and the next generation of Cougars battling it out on Main Street. Some of the kids were really good. I grinned from ear to ear as I watched them.
Waller took the final, victorious shot, sending the puck through Pete's makeshift goal. "That's game," he called out, arms raised triumphantly.
"No rematch clause?" Pete asked, panting but smiling.
"You're on, but maybe another time," I said. "Let the record show Team Hoss reigns supreme."
Chapter24
Pete
"So, you're sure about this? Moving in with me?” I teased Hoss as we stepped into his apartment. The place looked like a storage unit for hockey memorabilia, and frankly, a lot was missing because it was already living at my place.
Hoss chuckled. "I mean, my toothbrush has been at your place for months. Might as well make it official."
"About damn time," I grinned, taking off my jacket and tossing it over a chair. Hoss did the same, and we headed for the couch. It felt weirdly nostalgic to be back in his apartment. In our first frenzied weeks of trying to figure out our relationship, we alternated between getting together at his place and my place.
Now, things were different—way different. We eventually chose my place as the preferred spot, partly because I lived so close to downtown and the oceanfront. We sank into the cushions of Hoss’s worn couch, legs touching, and a contented silence settled between us.
"You ever think we'd end up here?" Hoss asked, his eyes filled with something that looked a lot like wonder.
“On your couch?”
Hoss slapped my thigh. “No, Einstein. Here in Cold Pines.”
"End up sharing plays or end up sharing a life?" I smirked, though the emotional weight of both wasn't lost on me.
"Guess I meant both."
“I had no clue, but damn if it doesn't feel right," I admitted. "The team's looking strong, and with the new rookies coming in, we've got real potential to hang on to the championship.”
