Page 101 of The Dixon Rule

I’m starting to think Graham’s team is going to take the drumming of a lifetime, but I’ve underestimated Ryder and his father-in-law. Connelly and Talvo’s strategy was to pack the first line with all the superstars. Graham and Ryder, on the other hand, assigned a superstar to each line, so there’s always one great player on the ice at all times.

When Connelly’s first line leaves the ice, Graham’s second-line superstar scores a goal the moment Davenport is off the ice.

Will and I are on opposite sides, keeping a vigilant eye on the state of play. At one point, I blow an offside whistle on Connelly’s kid. Connelly almost lunges out of the bench toward me, coach and hockey dad rolled into one. I’ve seen many of them, red-faced and screaming, on the sidelines during my own high school games.

“He was over the line, asshole!” Connelly growls at me.

I skate over politely. “One more outburst from you, and I’m throwing you out of this game, Coach.”

Oh my God. I can’t believe I got to say that to Jake Connelly. This is the greatest day of my life.

He harrumphs but is befittingly shamefaced.

“You can’t go calling people assholes,” I hear Talvo reprimanding Connelly afterward, and I smother a laugh. “We’re Harvard. We’re better than that.”

“Sorry, lost my head.”

The game remains at that level of intensity all the way until the last second of the third period. Team Graham’s spread-the-love strategy pays off—they win 3–2, courtesy of a game-winning goal by Beau, who demonstrates why he has the reputation for delivering in clutch situations. Beau’s dad skates over and throws an arm around his shoulders, saying, “Atta boy.”

I skate to the bench and check my phone, but my dad hasn’t responded to any of this afternoon’s texts, not even the photo of Graham and Logan laughing so hard they’re almost falling over. It makes me furrow my brow because Dad never takes more than an hour or so to text back. I shrug it off, though. Maybe he and Mom are just busy with Maryanne.

Ryder breaks away from the other coaches and skates up to me and Will. “Garrett and the others are taking us all out for drinks,” he says. “You two in?”

Will and I gawk at him.

“What?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” I say. “Of course we’re in.”

“Idiot,” Will mumbles.

I glance at Will. “You’ve gotten a lot meaner since you started bro’ing out with Beck. I love it.”

He smiles. “Thank you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DIANA

Do you want me to take it out?

AT ELEVEN THIRTY, SHANE BARRELS THROUGH MY OPEN DOOR BEFORE I can even invite him in. Which I wasn’t planning to do because it’s late Thursday night and I’m in the middle of an FoF marathon. I’m two episodes behind.

“I’m drunk,” he announces.

I gape at him as he brazenly breezes into my living room. He’s wearing cargo shorts and a tank top, and for some reason, he’s holding a brown paper bag in his hands.

“You realize you don’t live here, right?”

“I should live here,” he says nonsensically.

His brown eyes drift toward the TV screen, which is paused on Donovan’s sleazy British face.

“Sweet. Let’s do this. We need to catch up before Saturday.”

I press my lips together to stop a laugh. “Why’s that?”

“Because Saturday is a Sugar Shack release. Super important.” He cocks an arrogant brow at my expression. “That’s right, I know the lingo now. And you know what? I’m not ashamed to say I like this show. It’s entertaining. The women are hot. And some of the dudes are hilarious. Like the Connor. There isn’t a single episode where he doesn’t have me in hysterics.”

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