Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Our only goal tonight belonged to Vince, who had taken the lead of most goals in the league by the end of our regular season. It was only his second year playing, and if the way he was showing out was any indication, he had a long, record-breaking career ahead of him.
But he’d come up short every shot he’d taken since that first one tonight, and frustration rolled off him in plumes as I watched him send the puck toward Sacramento’s goalie. It hit him right in the middle of the chest, and Vince let out a scream, banging his stick on the ice before Jaxson was skating over to mutter something into his ear and clap him on the shoulder.
This wasn’t the time to lose our cool.
This was the time to fucking kill.
Another minute passed with our guys scrapping it out with Sacramento’s. When Suter was tripped on his advance down the ice toward the goal, the crowd roared, and so did my teammates both on the bench and on the ice when the ref didn’t call the penalty.
I held out my gloved hands, slowly lowering them down again and again in a symbol for my team to calm.
There was still time to play.
Even through his mask, I could see Suter’s bloody grin when he looked at me. He spit on the ice, letting the refs know in a not-so-subtle way that they’d fucked up, and then he went right back to the game.
I knew then it was over.
I knew by the way he glided across that ice like a jaguar, his shoulders tight, neck bobbing left and right like he was just out for a stroll. He checked one of the Sacramento players hard against the glass, stealing the puck and driving it down the ice. He passed it to Vince only for Vince to dangle the puck and pass it right back to Suter.
Suter, who was in perfect position to the left corner of the net.
Suter, who made it look easy when he hit that puck, when his stick connected and drove it into the net.
Suter — who made the score two to one with less than thirty seconds left.
The resulting cheers from the fans were deafening. Even I threw my fist up from the goal, watching as Vince and Jaxson all but tackled Suter in celebration.
Holy fuck.
We’re about to win the Cup.
The realization had my heart picking up pace, my hands trembling a bit as I crouched in front of the goal the moment the puck was back in play. Sacramento pulled their goalie, subbing in an extra winger to try to score and get us back to a tie, but our guys were ruthless. We blocked the puck, stole it, and sent it firing down the ice for an empty netter.
Less than a minute later, the final buzzer sounded.
And all hell broke loose.
• • •
Chloe
It was a mad house after the final buzzer — which had sent Ava screaming into my arms and immediately made us both start bawling. We were in a suite with Maven, Livia, and Grace — along with some other friends and family members of teammates.
We’d all lost our damn minds at the win, and then security was covering for us as we all rushed to get down to the ice.
Maven hooked her arm through mine, the four of us linking together so we wouldn’t get split up. These women had become like family to me — well, that was, after they yelled at me incessantly for keeping my relationship with Will from them for so long.
Thankfully, I’d made up for it by spilling all the details in the end.
These girls lived for dirty details.
Since then, we’d gone to dress fittings with Maven, had days at the beach, and even gone shopping together — which was new and surprisingly fun for me.
“We won! Daddy won!” Ava kept repeating as I carried her through the chaos, balancing her in the arm not linked with Maven. The crowd was thick outside of the suites, and all the way until we were in the tunnel under the stadium. Even then, media snapped photos and shoved cameras in our faces while we fought through.
Ava was a bit heavy in my arms, but I didn’t dare put her down. I held her tight, smiling at her through the madness. She was beaming in the new jersey I’d made her for the playoffs — navy blue and white but with glittery gold trim and outlines in honor of her favorite pop star, Mia Love.
Chef Patel and Uncle Mitch had wanted to be closer to the action for the game. I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket and knew it was her wondering where I was. Security led us through the locker room, and when we pushed through the tunnel, Arushi screamed from where she was leaning over the top.