Page 62 of Home Ice

"So many sauces."

His mouth is almost touching my nose. He cups my cheek in his palm and then trails a finger down to my lips. My very ready lips that part as soon as he touches them. I pull his finger into my mouth and close my lips around it, sucking on it, letting him know what I want to do to him as soon as I get the chance.

"You know nuggets aren't the healthiest option, especially not for a star athlete working back from an injury. Maybe I could give you some advice after the game."

My body goes as stiff as the wall behind me. I do recognize this voice because he makes no attempt to disguise it. But there's no way it can be him. Brant must sense my discomfort because he slips an arm around me as we both turn to face the man who has walked up on us. "And you are?" Brant asks.

How is this possible?

"I'm an old friend of Lily's."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. "Why are you here, Tyler? Only authorized personnel are allowed in these tunnels."

Tyler reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a pass. "I should probably put this on if I'm going to be wandering around. You always did like looking out for me. And you were so good at it too."

I had just started to build my savings again after my surgery when Tyler told me he quit his job with the Lightning to follow his dream. I tried to warn him that no one would buy nutritional supplements from someone who didn't even have a functioning website, but he called me a hypocrite. Like finally getting my surgery after years of waiting was the same as him selling dried kale powders. And stupidly, I wondered if I was being a hypocrite. And even more stupidly, I loaned him the little money I had and paid for everything over the next year. He convinced me it was what a good girlfriend should do. I maxed out three credit cards and almost lost my friendship with Em before I finally came to my senses.

"So what, you're here trying to con people into buying your supplements?"

Tyler waves me off like he's swatting at a fly. "Head dietician for the Squall now. Finally got that dream job I always wanted."

"The dream job? That's the dream now?" Since fucking when?

"The key is to just keep working hard and putting yourself out there. The universe will reward you. Maybe it'll come for you someday too. What are you doing now?" He looks up at Brant who is at least six inches taller than him. Tyler's height always made him insecure, and I'm glad to see that it apparently still bothers him. "Don't tell me you're trying to take a shortcut. You know it won't work. Especially when he finds out… you know." He ends in a fake whisper that makes it obvious he wants Brant to hear every word.

"Lily doesn't need any shortcuts." Brant pulls me tight against him. The way he emphasizes the word tells me he's somehow picked up on Tyler's insecurity. And Tyler's flinch makes it obvious that Brant hit the mark. "She's a great trainer. We love her."

It's sad how much I wish the we was an I in that sentence. I can almost hear it. But it's not there, and I can't let myself indulge that fantasy. "Speaking of jobs, shouldn't you be doing yours?" I'm not even pretending to be polite. He doesn't deserve that much from me. "I know I really need to get back to mine."

"You're right. I am very busy. I see you've gotten very busy yourself. I'll let you get back to whatever job it was you were getting ready to do." He winks and does that annoying double tongue click he always does when he thinks he's being witty. I want to stop him and scream that he's the bad guy here. That he doesn't get to come into my arena and try to make me feel like this.

"Hey." Brant turns me so I'm looking at him instead of watching Tyler walk away. "My first goalie coach taught me you can't stop the ones that are already past you. You need to focus on what's in front. That asshole is the past. Let him go. Focus on what's in front of you." He puts his hands on my shoulders and squares me to him. His face is so close it blocks out everything else.

I want to feel my body pressed tight on his until Tyler is nothing more than the bad memory he was just a few minutes ago. But now I'm afraid of who else might catch us. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here."

"You would have stabbed him," Brant says like it's obvious. "You were making that stabby motion with your arm. All you needed was the screeching violin music and a shower curtain to set the mood."

"I was not making a stabbing motion."

"Maybe not, but your eyes told me that you sure wished you could. Let's get back to the dressing room. Me and the boys have another reason to kick some Squall ass today."

CHAPTER 42

DISTRACTIONS

BRANT

I make it halfway through the game without Asher Sorenson saying a word to me. Mostly because Princeling and Poppy are defending out of their minds tonight, and they check him almost every time he comes near the net. In fact, our entire defense is on fire so far in this game. There have only been a handful of shots on goal, and those were weak shots I was able to easily send aside.

The problem is, Denver's defense is matching ours. I know from the way he's skating that Kayden is frustrated. There have been two obvious penalties so far. Obvious to everyone but the refs. Kayden doesn't normally let those things get to him, but when it's combined with the dirty play Denver is famous for—all the stick holding and bodychecks that come just after the puck is gone, right as the player and ref are looking away—it's getting to be too much for him.

He's sitting on the bench right now. His line is next up as soon as the boys can work a shift change, and I try to get his attention to calm him down. But like everyone else, he's watching the other end of the ice. Our fourth line has the puck, and they're trying to cycle it around the offensive zone, and it looks like the Denver D is starting to tire just a little. One of our boys winds up for a slapshot from the point, but he's too slow. Sorenson reaches out and pokes it away, and then it's on.

Our entire team was expecting a shot, so they worked themselves around the net, ready to put back a rebound. Not one of them saw Asher coming. No one but me. Now it's up to me to stop him.

He's racing down the ice with the Denver center to his left, but everyone in the arena knows the center is just a decoy. Asher Sorenson doesn't pass the puck when he can take the shot. And this two-man breakaway is the best chance he's going to get all game. There's no way he's passing it up.

I slip out of the net to cut down the distance between us and to take away some of the angles he can play, but even I know the odds aren't great. Lucky for me, I don't give a fuck about those stats. There's no way I'm letting this asshole score against me today.

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