Page 104 of Body Check

Me: 1) I’m in charge. 2) Repeat: I’m in charge. 3) No mention of sweet cheeks or you’re out. 4) Are you in?

Harrison: At least I can listen to someone else be in charge. Jackson never shuts up.

Cain: The sweet cheeks are a thing of the past.

Beaumont: You’re killing my vibe but I’m in.

Hunt: New rule—Beaumont can’t text more than once an hour.

Kammer: Is it wrong that I’m just excited I was invited? #fullconfession

Me: Jackson needs y’all. I can’t give information without his okay, but I know that he’ll feel better with you guys here. We’re heading back to his condo now. If you could make the time . . . we’ll be ready for you in an hour.

Bordeaux: I coming.

Hunt: I’m on my way.

Cain: omw

Beaumont: Is it creepy if I sit outside his door and wait? Kidding, you never have to ask. Carter needs us and I’m there.

Kammer: You got it!

Harrison: Carter has dropped everything for us for years now. I’m heading there now. I’ll pick up pizza so we’ve got food.

Familiar arms pull me into an equally familiar embrace. And then that voice . . . that same voice that has whispered in my ear for nearly fourteen years, whispers the sweetest words I’ve ever heard: “Always you, Holls. Always you.”

36

Jackson

Six Months Later

“Nowthatwas a cliffhanger if we ever saw one, right? No kidding, I don’t think I’ve felt so on the edge of my seat since the lastGame of Thronesseason.”

The audience around me cheers on Dominic DaSilva, Sports 24/7’s notorious analyst, as he moves across the stage with a microphone in hand. I’ve met the guy once before, back when I was a rookie with the Bruins and he was in his second season playing football for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

Fast forward a decade and we’re both old geezers who had our seasons and careers ended prematurely. Six months ago, I wasn’t quite ready to pack in the proverbial bag—and I didn’t. Stubborn ass that I am, I straddled the fence for as long as I could hold out. I played hard on the ice and played hard off it, too, with doctor appointments and therapy, andGetting Puckedfollowing me from one place to another.

I had my eye on the Cup, and I’d be damned if anything impeded that.

In March, Dr. Mebowitz got his wish. A hard hit from a Canadiens D-man had me seeing stars for weeks. Stubborn or not, there was no coming back from a body check like that. I’d been sidelined by an asshole with a unibrow and a weird, idol-like obsession with Beaumont.

Holly told me it was fitting that Andre was the one to bust in my cheek, taking me out for half a season years ago, and the guy who wanted tobeAndre was the one to end my pro-hockey career for good.

I don’t think it was fitting so much as it was ironic, but there’s life for you.

One fucked-up string of ironic event after ironic event.

“Well, I’ve got some news for all of you tonight,” DaSilva goes on, looking like some sort of mafioso up on the stage. He’s not wearing a single thread that’s not black—and the ladies in the crowd love him for it, if their initial swooning when he got up on stage is anything to go by. “Getting Puckedhas not only allowed us access to a clip of the exclusive interview between Jackson Carter and Holly Carter before it airs on primetime TV next week, but we’ll be joined by Mr. Carter himself on stage following that.”

Wild applause erupts in the massive hall.

I slide a glance over to Holly, who’s seated next to me in the front row of the theater. She looks gorgeous with her blond hair down around her shoulders and wearing that same blue dress that I stripped her out of months ago. Reaching for her hand, feeling the cool gold of her wedding band on her third finger, I pull it onto my lap, needing her touch and support.

“You’re going to be fine,” she says for me only, cupping our clasped hands with her free one. “If you can singMy Heart Will Go Onto a bunch of hockey players, you can go up there and talk to a crowd about the sport you love so much. Plus, you’ve got another few minutes before you have to leave this seat. I believe in you.”

“The singing happened because you were up there with me.” I duck my head, brushing my lips across her temple. “You wanna come up on the stage with me?”

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