Page 87 of Perfect Boy

“No fair.” Sutton pouts. “I tried. Hunter basically ran away from me.” Her face brightens. “But he promised the second he’s out of this arena…he’s going to let me ri—”

“Please, I beg you,” Haley cries, “do not finish whatever you’re about to say about my brother and you and whatever you will or won’t be doing.” She cringes. “I am already nauseous. Don’t make me puke all over you.”

“My bad.” Sutton shrugs. “I can’t help it that your brother is, like”—she fans herself—“really, really hot.”

“Not. Helping,” Haley hisses. “I love you. But please stop talking about my brother.”

“Fine,” Sutton mutters, glancing at the huge bag of Nerds Clusters Haley is currently inhaling. “I feel like your baby might come out asking for those if you keep eating them. Goddamn, girl.”

I swear Haley might actually start crying, and Sutton must see it, too, because she quickly stumbles over her words, trying to take them back.

“But you’re pregnant! So, yeah, eat away!” She reaches in the bag, taking one for herself, nodding her head. “Live your life.”

Haley’s lip pokes out. “Cade used to buy these for me.”

I shoot Sutton a glare, and she widens her eyes, shrugging. God love the girl. She’s just a tad abrasive at times when she shouldn’t be. Especially with the poor girl whose baby daddy is in rehab.

Moving my attention back to the arena, I watch Watson stretch his body against the ice.

Except this time…I don’t even try to pretend I’m not.

Finishing up, he stands, skating back toward the goal. And when his helmet lifts and his eyes meet mine, my legs go to jelly.

God, I love that man.

Watson

A win is always fun. But a win on a night my wife is in the stands, wearing our last name and my number on her back? That’s a fucking victory.

I shower quickly, already hating that I’ll be stuck in interviews for too long when all I want to do is go cuff my wife to the bed with her wearing nothing but that jersey and make her come until the sun comes up. I guess all in good time, but, fuck, it sucks to wait.

Changing quickly, I head out of the locker room, surprised when I see LaConte outside his office and not already talking to the press.

“Got a second, Gentry?” he asks, and I’m instantly nervous.

“I do,” I say with a nod, following him into his office.

“I owe you an apology, son.” He sits down behind the desk and rests his hands in front of him, his eyes fixed on mine. “As a man who’s been married for too damn long to remember, I shouldn’t have questioned your marriage with Ryann. I’m sorry for that.” A look of concern crosses his face. “I hope it all goes her way in court and you two are able to move past all of this shit that you’ve had to work through.” He tilts his head to the side. “Remember, sometimes, it’s things like this in life, the things that are the hardest…well, more often than not, they are the same things that come with the highest level of reward.”

He pats his hand on his desk. “Go on and get out of here, boy. Get those interviews done so you can go see your wife.” He sighs. “I know I’m ready to see mine.”

Slowly, I stand. “Thank you, Coach.” I nod. “Really. For everything, thank you.”

“Anytime, Gentry.”

As I walk out of his office, I know that not long ago, I lied to him when he asked me for the truth. But the truth is, I loved Ryann then just like I love her now. And it won’t matter if the court goes her way or not; nothing will keep us apart. Moving to Canada and joining the pros over there isn’t anything I ever imagined doing. But if it was between the New York Rangers or Ryann, I’d choose her. I wouldn’t even have to think about it.

32

Ryann

Seven Weeks Later

“Ilove it here,” I say, gazing up at the never-ending buildings that somehow seem to reach the sky. I’ve always known they’d be tall—I mean, they aren’t called skyscrapers for nothing. But still, nothing could have prepared me for them. Or to be standing here, in New York City, in complete awe.

Sounds of honking horns and the sulfur-like smell that fills the air are welcoming. To some, I’m sure it would turn them away. To me…I feel like I’m home.

For so many years, I’ve waited for this very moment. To be in the Big Apple, in the city that never sleeps. And I love it.

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