Page 64 of Pucks and Books

God, I miss her. I left early this morning, napped here at the arena, and I haven’t been home yet. I mean, to her apartment. Though, at the rate I keep leaving my crap there, I may as well call it my home too. I’ve moved in without either of us saying I have. I’m unsure if we’re not acknowledging this fact because if we do, we’d have to question if we’re moving too fast. We might be. But when you know, you know. And I know I’m happy sharing a space with Louisa.

More than happy.

When the roar of the crowd reaches into the locker room, I take a deep breath. The arena is sold out, which is huge when so many people tried to say they wouldn’t support the venue. Or the Bears. Well, Dan Davenport offered the town free tickets, and now, we’re sold out. Or at capacity. However you wanna look at it, the arena is full and fucking loud.

Give country boys an orange shirt and some beer, and they’re down to party.

I stand up and find myself pacing as I spin my helmet on my fingers. I nod to each of my teammates as I pass by, waiting for the cue to go. I’ve already given my speech, which was all uplifting and shit but very short, but I wonder if it stuck for my teammates. Everyone is visibly nervous, and my stomach aches at the sight. Maybe I didn’t uplift as much as I wanted.

I clear my throat, and a few eyes move toward me. “I’m proud of this team,” I start, still spinning my helmet on my fingers. “We have worked hard, come together, and now we’re going to show why the Knoxville Bears will be the best team in the league.” The guys start to nod, and pride settles in my chest. “We will prove to this town we belong here. We will win, and we will do it as a team.”

The room fills with agreement and loud chants. I put my helmet on my head and then start a slow clap. The guys join in, the room loud and full of excitement as we start to clap louder and in time. Everyone gets up, meeting in the middle as we clap faster, and when we stop, the room explodes in “K Bears!” We tap our fists, clasp shoulders, and hype one another up as the cue comes for us to line up in the hall.

The crowd is loud as they sing along with Jay-Z’s “Run This Town.” At the back of the line, I rock back and forth as I watch and listen to each of my teammate’s names and numbers. Cruz stands in front of me, second to last since he’s the starting goalie.

He glances back at me and nods. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’m gonna be.” I laugh, and he flashes me a wide smile.

“And Number Ninety, our starting goalie, Alejandro Cruz!”

I slap him on the back as he smacks his gloves together and heads through the tunnel. I’m thankful for how loud the crowd cheers for my friend, and I step forward since I’m next. My stomach is in knots, and I may puke once more. Might help. But before I can do that, the announcer is calling my name.

“And now, the captain of the Knoxville Bears, Number Four, Ciaran Carter!”

I take off in a run, hitting the ice with ease as the crowd erupts. The next few moments are a blur as I look around, taking everything in. The crowd is electric, the lights blinding and the music deafening, and I’m obsessed with it all. Eagerness courses through me, and soon, I’m searching for my love.

She has her grandfather’s suite here, but when I’d told her I’d gotten her glass seats, she’d said she wanted to be as close as she could to me. I look to the left, right by the home team penalty box, and there she is. Her eyes are bright blue and green, swirling with all the excitement that fills her gorgeous face. Her hair is half up, curled, and she’s wearing light makeup. My jersey looks stunning on her, but it’s the pride in her eyes that has my chest puffing up and cockiness urging me on.

I wink at her, and her grin takes up her whole face. I may not be able to hear her, but I know she’s screaming only for me, and damn if she doesn’t look incredible doing so. I tear my gaze from hers and stand with my team as the national anthem is sung. Next is the honorary puck drop, and when Dan Davenport walks the orange carpet, twirling a puck in his hand, my stomach drops at the sight of him. I should have known he would be the one to drop the puck. Though, that doesn’t ease my concern that he could chuck that puck at my head.

He comes to the end of the carpet, stopping between the captain of the Georgia PuckDawgs and me. He shakes the captain’s hand and then turns to me, holding out his hand. I take it, and he pins me with a look. He leans in, his head angling to the side so that no one can see or hear him speak.

“I don’t have to say that if you hurt her, you’re done. Correct?”

I look over at him just as he looks at me. Davenport’s eyes are hard, serious, with no humor whatsoever. While I’m glad Lou talked to him, I wish I were more prepared. I could have come up with a speech of promise. To reassure him that I have no intention of ever hurting Louisa. Only loving her, fully.

But I don’t have time to say any of that, only to nod and agree. “Correct.”

Davenport nods, and we line up. And when he drops the puck, I win it with ease. I pick up the puck, shaking hands with the other captain before handing it back to Davenport. Louisa’s grandpa nods to me and then turns to head back down the carpet. I glance over my shoulder, and Louisa is watching me, concern furrowing her brows. I flash her a bright smile, and she sends me one back, mouthing, “Good luck.”

Gone are the nerves, replaced by confidence that Louisa is basically feeding me with just her eyes and her smile. I have never felt like this when I play, this cocky feeling that I’m the best out here and I’m about kick everyone’s ass. I’ve always been very confident in my game, but now, with Louisa watching and knowing that she wants me to succeed, I feel like I’m even better than I thought. I want to prove that to her. I want her to see how she inspires me to be the best I can be. A bolt of energy runs through me, and I’m ready to show off for her.

To thank her for being here for me.

CHAPTER 39

Louisa

From the moment Ciaran hits the ice, I decide I will never miss a game. He belongs on the ice. He moves across it like it’s land and not a sheet of slick, frozen water. I’ve watched my fair share of hockey, but Ciaran—and I am well aware I’m biased—he’s magic on it. The way he moves, confidently, eager, makes me think of how he makes love to me. He plays thoroughly, just as thoroughly as he makes me scream, over and over. He’s a sight to behold, and in just the first two minutes of his being on the ice, I know he belongs in the big leagues. That the Knoxville Bears are too small for him.

He’s destined for bigger things.

As much as I want to be scared of that, I can’t deny it. I don’t want him to leave, but I would never hold him back. I want him to succeed, and I know he will.

* * *

My mind doesn’t change with each game I watch. It’s been three weeks of home games, and each time, I find another part of his game that impresses me and makes me so proud to be his. In ten games, he has scored fourteen goals. He is the most talked-about player on all the AHL blogs—and yes, I read them all. Just as I tell everyone, even the blogs know he owns the ice. Watching him lead his team makes me so damn hot, I can’t keep my hands to myself once he gets home.

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