Page 97 of One More Time

“Baby, look at me.”

I shook my head, tears spilling down my cheeks and over his fingers.

“Please, look at me, baby.”

Unable to fight his pull any longer, I gazed into those golden eyes that glittered in the dim hotel lamp light.

“That’s it,” he praised, then his voice turned stern. “Now listen to me. You are not losing me; no distance will change the way I feel about you. Do I know what it will look like? No, but I know how I feel. I’ll spend every moment I can with you, whether on the phone or in person. Your friends aren’t leaving you either. Whether you get signed tomorrow or lead this team to more victories, you will succeed. And you most definitely won’t be alone.”

The determination in his eyes kept me from protesting.

“And no matter where I am, Aus, I am yours. If you want to move on, I’ll accept that but know that there will be no one else for me. I’ll have you whichever way I can until we’re together again. Either way, know this isn’t our last time.”

I took in his features, counting the little scars decorating his face. Some were hidden in the beard he’d let grow out—a tradition for the end of the season. I memorized his olive skin and dark hair, which had recently been cut but was still long enough for me to grab onto. I didn’t hate it; he was all man. The only man I could ever see as being mine. Our lips collided, but he kept the kiss sweet

“As much as I want you, I just want to hold you tonight, baby. You’re exhausted, and you also took a good knock to the head today. Not to mention that panic attack and don’t think I haven’t seen you nursing that headache. If it wasn’t our last game tomorrow, I would be asking you to sit this one out. This isn’t our last night together. Tomorrow, we will be the winners of the Frozen Four and I’ll make love to you in ways you never even imagined.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’d better, hotshot.“ I stayed right where we were, resting my head against his shoulder. I was tired, really fucking tired. I felt Hunter gather me up and tuck me into him on the mattress—I didn’t even question how he could lift me. Hunter was nothing if not superhuman in my eyes.

I woke up to the echoing sound of both our alarms. I smiled, knowing that he was the one to set them the night before. Despite my throbbing headache, I gathered my thoughts, acknowledging that my usual pre-game routine had been abandoned last night. I looked over to the spare bed seeing my workout clothes folded and waiting with my full water bottle sitting on top—even my smartwatch had been put on the charger. I moved into the bathroom, sure that there would be clothes scattered on the floor—a particular pet peeve of mine—but was surprised to find it spotless.

Hunter’s arms encircled my waist, and his lips met the nape of my neck. “Everything to your liking, baby?” he teased. I melted into his touch. Without Hunter, I wondered how chaotic my high-strung, type-A personality might become.

“Thank you—for everything,” I expressed, hoping he understood the true weight of those words. His lips brushed my cheek before he moved away to get ready.

There was no room for sentimental moments. It was time for each of us to prepare for the game in our own way. Like two sheepdogs doing a job, we collected what we needed and made our way to channel our buzzing energy.

The sight that greeted us was a mix of excitement—mostly from Mouse—and nervous anticipation from our teammates. Pre-workouts were done, game suits were on, and Colton was giving his pep talk. The team responded with stick bangs, but that nervous energy lingered. This particular team unsettled us the most, and doubts were beginning to take root.

“I want to say,” I started “This season has been the best I’ve ever played. Each and every one of you has what it takes to beat those guys out there. Forget about the stats, the agents, the cameras. Focus on the chemistry we’ve built. When you step onto that ice, think about your teammate beside you. Make this your best game ever. Let’s make this a memory to last a lifetime.”

Amid catcalls and stick banging came, “We’re not here to fuck with spiders! Let’s show them what BU is made of.”

The team dispersed from the benches, and I watched everyone head down to the ice, exuding enthusiasm. A hand rested on the back of my neck, and Hunter’s scent enveloped me as he leaned into my ear.

“That mouth of yours has so many talents, baby,” he remarked, giving me a wink and swatting my ass with his stick as he walked past me.

“Win this game with me, Boston, and I’ll show you what else this mouth can do,” I teased, enjoying the way the tips of his ears reddened. We stepped onto the ice behind our team for the last time, determined to make it a night to remember. I resolved to tell my broody Bostoner that I loved him tonight—regardless of the game’s outcome.

There was no doubt I had a target on my back. It felt like I was evading hits more than I was going after the puck. The thudding in my noggin fought for attention, as I tried to clear my head and read the play, a task that used to come naturally. But whatever strategy we were employing, it was working—kind of. The first period ticked away, and it was a scoreless game. While their defense was stellar, ours matched up. The buzzer sounded and I welcomed the twenty-minute breather. How we managed to avoid turning the game into a fistfight was beyond me.

I plonked myself down on the bench and guzzled from a bottle of water, hoping it would shake off the dizziness. “You okay?” Hunter whispered.

I nodded. “Yep, just trying to evade them tearing me a new asshole,” I replied.

Hunter growled. “Those guys are on you—hard. I feel like I’m playing chasey all night with how they’re trying to keep you off goal. Not to mention, that ass is mine.”

I bit back a grin as I gave him a playful elbow to his ribs.

Coach ran through a play refresh, adjusting the lines so Jarman and Hunter could tag team and work with Colton and I.

As we hit the ice, the change in lines rattled the opposition. They weren’t expecting the switch-up. I won the faceoff, breaking away to score a goal and finally put a point on the board. However, the shift in lines led to miscommunication between Hunter and Colton which, resulted in Merrimack shooting their own goal. I took numerous shots, but the defense’s focus on me prevented any successful contacts.

A rough hit from Zane left me rattled on the ice. His sneers mirrored those from before, but their impact was no longer the same. In truth, I had what he wanted—multiple things he wanted: the guy, and the game. I forced myself off the board and returned to the bench for the line change, watching as Amon and Mouse took a crack at the net.

“You okay, Aussie?” Hunter asked. “That was a big hit.” I nodded, eyes following the puck like a dog playing fetch.

Baxter’s hand on my shoulder captured my attention. “Need a concussion check? You were slow to get up.”

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