Page 14 of Home Ice

"But you're pretty. Maybe you could actually put on a little makeup, though."

"Hey! I wear makeup sometimes!"

"But you're still pretty. And you have those." She motions to my chest. "Men seem to really like those for some reason I'll never understand."

I chuckle. "You will some day. But you'll never understand men. Don't even try to do that. And I'm sorry. Truly. I shouldn't have said that."

"You shouldn't think it either, because it's not true," she says.

"Okay." I nod and hope that maybe it won't be true for her. She's only thirteen years younger than me, but she's growing up in a different world. Better in a lot of ways. Maybe this is one of them.

"And you should give Brant Morrison a chance." Her tone tells me that she's using his full name just because I told her not to. I'm glad she doesn't know his middle name or she would use that too. "He really does have a crush on you, even if he doesn't say it."

CHAPTER 12

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?

BRANT

I blow out a quick breath before I look back at Evans and grin. "That all you got for me today?" For the last twenty minutes he's been putting me through what was supposed to be a simple off-ice warmup before practice, but this is more intense than some team tryouts I've had. He's doing everything he can to find a weakness in my knee, all under the guise of activating my muscles before I stand in against live shots. To be honest, I've dreaded facing shots, but it will be a walk in the park after this.

"I think you've proven you deserve a chance out there today. You are ready, my man." He smacks down twice on my shoulders.

Elijah Evans is the head trainer for the team, and he's kept a close eye on my rehab. I've never told him, but he's been a lot more optimistic through this entire process than I have been. He never once doubted I would be right here in skates and ready to head out onto the ice. Not even when I had nightmares of doing a butterfly slide while a 220-pound center barreled into me.

I nod. "I'm ready." But they don't sound convincing. And I don't move. He stops and looks up at me. "What do you need?" he asks.

I need a brain that didn't have its confidence shattered seventeen months ago. A mind that doesn't remember that snap and the stabbing pain the instant my ACL tore. "I just need to—What do you know about her?"

Behind him, Lily walks out of one of the training rooms and heads toward the rink. There shouldn't be anything sexy about a yellow hoodie and black leggings, but damn if my cock doesn't press against my athletic cup. Evans turns just as she walks out of sight. "Lily? The new girl?"

I nod.

"Not a lot. From Denver. Worked for the baseball team there."

As much as I love Salt Lake City and playing for the Sting, I know this job would be a step down for a trainer on the Colorado Lightning baseball team. "Did she get fired? Move here because of a boyfriend or husband?" I try to sound uninterested when I say it, but it doesn't stop my cheeks from blazing with guilt when he looks at me.

"Not a clue. She's really friendly, but never says anything at all about herself. Anyway, you'd better get out there or Coach is going to be pissed, and you know he'll blame me. Anytime I player isn't ready, it's the training staff's fault." He chuckles, but we both know it's true. Coach is from a different generation. In his day, if you weren't bleeding or missing a limb, you'd better be on the ice when your line was called.

"I got your back. I'll tell him I was in the bathroom if he asks. I'll see you after practice to let you know how it felt out there."

"You got this." He pats my shoulder again and walks toward the training room, and I head down the tunnel to the ice.

As soon as my blades touch the ice, I smile. This is what I was made for, and this is always going to be home. A few of the boys stop their warmups to welcome me back, and even Coach gives me an almost imperceptible nod as I skate toward the crease. Just before I enter the blue paint, I turn around and look for Lily. It shouldn't matter whether she's here. She doesn't know anything about my injury or what I've gone through. It's not like I need her to witness my comeback, but there's a splinter of sadness when I don't see her. I push it aside and let my body take me into the crease. My crease. When I'm in this blue paint, I need to be all about business. Anyone who tries to slip something past me now becomes the enemy.

Practice goes better than I imagined it would. We start off easy, but after just a few minutes I'm blocking wristers and slap shots like I never missed a second. I'm in the best form of my life, and the smiles on the guys tell me they know it too. So, when Coach decides to end the day with a three-on-three scrimmage, I'm ready. Milo moves in front of the net at the other end of the ice, and we tip our masks to each other before we pull them down and drop into our stances. He didn't win the Vezina Trophy last season, but everyone knows he should have. I'm convinced the only reason he didn't is because that would have made the Sting winners of three out of the last four seasons.

The first five-minute period passes without a goal for either side. My side wins the face-off to start the next period, and Kayden slaps the puck just past Milo's glove. I hear it ping off the pipe before it ricochets in the back of the net, and just like that, it's one for Black and zero for Yellow.

For the next period and a half, I turn away at least a dozen shots on goal. Yellow still trails by one, and as time winds down, they're getting desperate. As soon as the puck passes into the offensive zone, they start firing. I'm going to be covered in bruises tonight, but each puck I take off my body is a welcome back. When the Princeling fires a puck at me with just a couple of minutes left, I intend to glove it at first, but I see that two members of the Yellow side have skated too close to my net. Kayden has slipped behind them, so I knock the puck down and quickly send it between the attackers to Kayden.

He takes off full speed down the ice. His legs pump as he taps the puck side-to-side like he's running a stick handling drill, but he's setting up Milo, keeping him guessing so he won't know which side the shot is coming from. And when Kayden does finally uncoil just a few feet short of the blue paint, I'm sure it will be the goal that keeps us ahead for good. I look toward the bench. The players on both sides are standing, and just behind them is Lily. Her brown eyes are focused on the net at the other end of the ice. But when her pretty pink lips curve up, my heart stumbles. As if those lips were moving for me.

Since Serenity left me, I could have had any woman I wanted. There have been so many chances. Women at the surgeon's office slipped me scraps of paper with their phone numbers on them. Anytime I'd go out to eat with any of the boys, women would always flock to our table. Hell, the cashier at Smith's last week asked if I needed someone to come home and put away the groceries. Each one of them has gotten a no from me. And I didn't think twice about any of them.

But Lily? I don't know what it is, but she's different. So when she turns her head to look toward my side of the ice, her eyes now wide, my pulse spikes. My heartbeat roars, and I can't take my eyes off hers.

Not until the horn sounds and I see the Yellow team celebrating in front of my net.

---