Page 195 of Power Play

“I’ll never let go, Easy E.”

“Even when that goalie pisses you off?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, fine. How about when you accidentally get married in Vegas again? I can’t believe you kept that from us, by the way. You’re sneaky.”

“Not even then.” I smile and close my eyes. “You’re stuck with me for the long haul, Richardson. You all are.”

“Good. You keep things fun around here.”

We make a full lap of the arena, and I take in the celebrations. The fans still in their seats, clapping and high-fiving. The arena operations crew rolling out a carpet for the commissioner to make his way onto the ice. Bernie waves at me frantically, and I know I need to get my microphone and get in front of the camera.

“You have to put me down, Ethan. I need to finish my job like you all finished yours,” I say, and he sets me down next to the group of guys clustered near center ice. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime you want to have some real fun, you know my number.” Ethan winks and takes off after Riley, chasing down the trophy.

“If he lays another finger on you, I’m going to murder him,” Liam draws out. He hands me my microphone and scowls in Ethan’s direction. “Someone needs to put him on a leash.”

“That’ll be the day. Maverick,” I call out, looking for the captain. “Come talk to me, please.”

“He’s on ESPN,” Hudson says, gesturing to the large headset Maverick is wearing. “Who do you want instead?”

“Back off, Hayes.” Liam nudges him out of the way. “I want to talk to my wife on camera.”

“You want me to interviewyou?”

“Why not? The last time went well. I can pretend to have a good time for two minutes.”

“Are you sure? I bet Hudson is more than willing.”

“I’ll be in the wings on backup in case he starts acting like he’s going to get in trouble with the FCC,” Hudson teases, and Bernie gives me the one-minute warning.

“No cursing,” I tell Liam sternly, and he rolls his eyes.

“It was one time, and it slipped out,” he says. “How much longer am I going to have to pay for my crimes, Pipsqueak?”

“For a very long time.” I tug on his collar and bring his mouth to mine. “Forever, maybe.”

“Sounds like I need to do it again. Just to make sure I can keep you around.”

“I swear to god if you?—”

“Five seconds,” Bernie says, and I smile at the camera.

“We’re back at United Airlines Arena and I’m here with Liam Sullivan, who might have had the play of the year in the final seconds tonight with a game-winning save. Liam, what went through your mind during that sequence?”

“Couldn’t let Miller show me up,” he says, bending down to talk into the microphone. His arm loops around my waist and pulls me close. “Gibbons had a heck of a shot, and I was in the right place at the right time.”

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do to celebrate?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?” He looks down at me. “Should we get some burgers and fries? Take a trip to Europe for the rest of the summer? Go to Disney World like the NBA and NFL guys do? Maybe we can have a night with Pico on the couch. Pretty sure my hamstrings are going to hurt for a fu—very long time after that.”

I blush at his inclusion of me. Our friends might know about our relationship, but the outside world doesn’t.

I guess they do now.

“I think Pico would like that very much,” I manage to get out. “Any comments on Maverick’s game-winning goal?”

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