Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“C’mon,” I mutter as a Sabers forward races toward the net, flicking the puck to a teammate who passes it right back to him a few seconds later, then lines up for a wrister.
In the crease, Max dives for it, stretching across the net, and slapping it out, right to Tyler’s waiting stick as he takes the rebound down the ice, flipping it to his brother.
Who barrels toward the Sabers net, as if he’s hell-bent on breaking the tie in the final minute.
But the Sabers goalie stops him, and a minute later, the game flips into overtime.
I hold my breath a little longer.
The puck changes hands so many times in the first four minutes that I consider biting my nails for the first time ever. They’re gel, so it’ll be tough. But I’m tempted to try. Especially since there’s only one minute left till this game goes to a shootout.
I watch by the tunnel, biting my lip, urging on the Sea Dogs as Asher, Wesley, and Rowan battle it out on the ice against the Vegas team, a three-on-three style play. Asher fights for the puck in the corners, passing it to Wesley, but the Sabers goalie blocks the shot. Thirty seconds left, and Miles, Ford, and Tyler hop over the boards, with Tyler tearing down the ice like a cheetah on blades, and in two seconds, he picks it off from the Sabers forward, ferries it down the ice like a man possessed, and flicks it to Ford, who’s set up near the goal.
He lifts his stick and wastes no time—the puck whips past the goalie’s outstretched arm and lands right in the twine.
Game over!
“Yes!” I shout, and I’m jumping on my skates, cheering so hard as the guys swarm each other in the biggest embrace with Tyler, Miles, and Ford at the center of it all.
And the second—no, the nanosecond—Tyler breaks free, I stop thinking.
I move. Like lightning, pushing past the gate to the ice, rushing out there, racing to my man.
And it’s not for the crocheted dogs. It’s for Number Forty-Four.
I fly across the arena, right into his waiting arms, and I jump up into them.
“I love you too, Tyler Falcon.”
He whips off his helmet. He’s sweaty, breathing hard, and he crushes his lips to mine. Him in his jersey, me in my sparkly sequined costume, kissing in front of the whole entire crowd.
I swear I can hear all my friends, and a little boy and a little girl I love cheering for us as we start over.
I never thought I’d have this—a love that’s real, a love that’s safe, one that’s bold and unafraid. But now I do, in the center of the rink, under all the lights, with this man kissing me like I’m his world.
When he breaks the kiss, he says, “You know what this means? You’re coming home with me. Upstairs. And that’s where you’ll stay.”
“Good. Because I love you,” I say again, because I can, because I mean it, and because he’s the one for me.
“And I love you so much.”
Then he gives me another overtime kiss.
50
SHINE ON
Tyler
With one hand wrapped around her gift, I reach for her palm and we walk back into the rink. All the crowds have filtered out, the crocheted dogs have been thrown, and my kids have gone home with their mom. My teammates and most of the crew have taken off for the night. But before we can truly start over, we need some real talk.
Best to have it here—by the place where we both feel most at home. The ice. It’s also where this big love started for me. We walk through the tunnel, past the players’ bench, and into the second row, where we sit down.
“We need to talk,” I say as I set down the bag with the present.
“We do,” she says softly.
I tuck a strand of shiny blonde hair behind her ear. “Have I told you I love you?”
She smiles. “Only a few times.”
“Get ready for me to say it over and over again,” I say, but then I clear my throat. “I should have said this sooner—that I love you. I should have said something the other night. Instead, I choked. I shut down because I thought you were shutting down. And I didn’t want to be another person who hurt you. I was a dumbass and thought I was being noble. News flash: I wasn’t noble. I was a chicken. But I am so sorry I hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”
She gives a soft, forgiving smile. “I know that. I think I knew it all along. I just tried to deny it because…” Her smile vanishes. “Everything hurt after my dad showed up.”
“Of course it did, baby,” I say, stroking her cheek.
“But I should have told you the details, Tyler. I should have told you what was going on. I should have insisted we talk that night. I was just so leveled out from the confrontation that I went into perfectionist mode, and that’s not fair to you.”