we need two of everything? But it’s so soon, and I haven’t considered when he said he wants us doing this together he meant together together.
I’m speechless.
“I’ll let you think about that some, until then, can we wait on all this gear?” He bends down and kisses the tip of my nose and brushes his hand over my stomach. “Sorry, I ruined your day.”
He just sent my mind twisting and turning like an upside-down roller coaster. “You didn’t ruin my day.”
“Good.” He takes my hand and guides me toward his car.
Then he drives us to a local, traditional southern fried cooking restaurant where I gorge on all southern staples. Fried Chicken. Collard Greens and mac 'n cheese. By the time we leave, my food baby is making an earlier appearance except this time I know it’s the food.
Definitely the food.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sebastian
Game Three. Thirty-three seconds left. We’re tied at two and Las Vegas has a power play thanks to Fletcher losing his cool and getting called with a hooking charge. It was a stupid move and I know he’s already kicking his own ass for being sloppy. We’ve been holding off Vegas from scoring, but shit are we exhausted.
Pretty sure after we won at home the first two games, we got cocky since we were able to sweep Buffalo in four. Jason and Jude’s little brother Joey is currently on the bench, but that doesn’t mean the trash-talking during this game has diminished with him playing a different line than us.
He’s fucking fast. So much better than the last time I saw him play. I think he even surprised Jason when Joey was able to get the jump on his big brother.
Still, we’re tired. My thighs burn. Sweat drips off my beard and down my cheeks. It’s gross, but I focus instead on the face-off at our end of the ice. Maddox has done an incredible job all play-off season so far, but even he looks tired, chest heaving as he braces his stick over his thighs while we wait.
I want this win. If we lose, it’ll be hard enough to rally on the road but if we win, we know even if we lose the next one we head back home for game five with the advantage.
Damn. My desire to win burns down to my fingers inside my gloves. In my chest. My head pounds from the blood racing through me and I grit my teeth, waiting while the ref holds out the puck.
The Vegas winger jumps a millisecond too soon and the whistle is called, pulling us back to the face-off zone. I’m at the top of the goal crease, prepping to block anything to keep it away from Maddox. The wait is a killer, but when the puck drops again, skates and sticks go flying. Jude comes away with the puck, slapping it out to Mikah. He skates around Vegas’s center and passes it off to Jason. Right before Jason snags it with his stick to slap it across the ice, a Vegas player comes out of nowhere, stealing the puck and moving so fast around me I can’t even attempt to steal the puck from him.
Shit!
I hustle, try to chase him behind the net, but he’s too fast and before Chauncy can get to him, he pulls back, aims, swinging it into the net.
The buzzer and lights behind the goal go berserk but it’s not nearly as loud as the roar of the arena.
Game tied with seven seconds to play.
Damn it!
When the final buzzer blares seconds later, I slap Maddox on the helmet.
“My fault, man. Sorry.”
“Shake it off, Hendrix,” he mutters, but he sounds as dejected as me as we skate off the ice. We have a short break. Then an overtime period. Not what we need. Not on the road.
“It’s all right. All right.” Coach’s encouragement falls flat. He’s not much of a talker, but he stands at the bench as we skate off the ice, slapping us all on the shoulder as we hurry down the hall back to the locker room.
Reporters are out in the hall, calling our names, but I shove past all of them. No way am I taking a minute to talk to them even though I know someone will. Hopefully Jude or Jason. They usually don’t mind. Tonight, I need my head focused.
God. Damn, I want this fucking win and if that guy hadn’t just gotten around me, we might have pulled it off. Now we go into overtime, different