Page 56 of Solitude

“No.”

Beck places his hand on my back and steers me away from Knox and toward the truck. “That’s enough for the night, Winnie. Lets go home.”

“But—”

“Get in the truck, babe,” Beck says as he opens the back door, and I’m so dumbstruck by the endearment that I yelp when he smacks my butt.

Smacks. My butt.

I’ve never climbed in a vehicle so fast.

Beck

When we had one final conference game left in the season at the beginning of April that determined whether or not we were going to the Frozen Four, I called Winnie with a plane ticket pre-booked and a hard-on I haven’t been able to get rid of since Christmas.

Now she’s here, standing in a sea of orange and white wearing my jersey that’s two sizes too big for her and a smile that makes my insides turn with the need to kiss the fuck out of her.

The fact that Winnie is in Texas, watching me play one of the most important games of my life, feels surreal. Hell, waking up with her in my bed this morning with wild hair and my t-shirt on made me imagine a future that revolved around more than hockey.

At Christmas, I’d put my heart on the line and made it clear thatthis, whatever it is between us, feels real. It feels like forever. It feels like marriage and babies and growing old together.

It doesn’t scare me the way I thought it would.

Instead, I get scared when I think about it ending.

We haven’t even defined what we are to each other, yet, but I know I’m falling in love with her. Maybe I have been since last summer. All I know is that I want to see Winnie wearing my name and number at all of my games from now on.

Scratch that. I need it.

So when the goal lights up after I sink another puck into the net just above the goalies net as the final buzzer signals the end of the game, I find her in the stands first. My skates carry me through the chaos of players flooding the ice, and I stop in front of the glass separating us.

Winnie’s already looking at me, climbing down the bleachers and pushing her way through the crowd to get tome, and when she’s finally standing in front of me, I just stare at her.

Smiling and breathing hard.

Happy and exhausted.

The noise is deafening, and I point my stick toward the locker rooms, hoping she catches my ask to wait for me after the game. Mellie, Knox’s sister that offered to sit with Winnie during the game, nods to me from her place in the stands, and I know she’ll make sure Winnie finds where she’s going.

I tug my glove off and place my hand on the glass, sweat dripping over my nose and onto my jersey. Winnie’s eyes follow the droplet as her teeth dig into her bottom lip, and if I didn’t know any better…

Save it for when you’re somewhere private, Hale.

She mirrors her hand over mine on the glass, and I blow her a kiss before taking off for the locker rooms.

It takes me longer than I want to get showered and dressed, but the guys are flying on cloud nine at the fact we’re going to the semifinals in two weeks. If Winnie was still in Magnolia Hollow, I probably would’ve goofed off with the boys longer and met up at Pucker, a local bar that college kids frequent, but knowing my girl is in the corridor with my goddamn jersey on has a fire lit under my ass.

When I burst through the double doors, the guys are making gross kissing noises at me that I ignore as I search the tunnel. I wander a few steps forward, stretching onto my toes as I frantically look around for her.

Then two dainty hands cover my eyes from behind, and I smile.

“Guess who?”

I hum. “Ryan Gosling? Is that you?”

She shoves my shoulder and giggles. “Really?”

“Winnie?” I gasp, spinning around. “When’d you get here?”

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