Page 81 of Bound

There!

I lurch for it, my stick and feet tangling with a guy from their team who sees the puck at the same time I do.

We collide, a jarring moment of impact that threatens to take me out of the play.

But I don’t allow myself to stop, to fall, tolosethis battle.

I push, getting the tip of my stick on the puck, flicking it forward…

Guiding it over…

The goalie scrambles, shooting his leg across the crease, and I know I’m out of time.

I dive, manage to give that puck just another push, light as fuck, but I do it as I’m shoved to the ice amongst a chaotic cluster of sticks and skates…

And it’s enough.

I propel it over the line, sending it flying into the back of the net.

Silence—but only for one brief moment.

Because then the home crowd explodes—their cheers rocketing through the arena, loud enough to make my ears hurt.

But as Aiden helps me up to my feet and we skate to the bench, all of that electric energy from the fans, from executing a play we’ve been working on perfecting for months, I’m aware of only one thing.

One person.

She’s standing in the hall today, watching me with a huge grin on her face.

I grin back.

“I knew you could do it,” she mouths.

That hits me, deep and perfectly painful, an exquisite sort of pleasure that has me wanting to find her office all over again, to watch her face as I tell her how much she means to me, as I feel her come apart in my arms.

But I have a game to play.

And she has a job to do.

And…I’m not going to let her down.

Not ever again.

Her surprise hits me after the game, and I feel it the moment I walk into the bare bones office she keeps at the arena.

Her tricked-out space is at the practice facility, where we spend the bulk of our prep time, both on and off the ice. This room is function over all else, and because there are no distractions, I immediately sense it.

Her tension. Her shock.

Her sadness.

“Shit, kitty cat,” I say, shutting the door behind me. “What’s the matter?”

She jumps, nearly upending the papers in her hands, then nibbles at her bottom lip, expression unfathomable.

“Is it Gran?” I ask, gut immediately churning.

That snaps her out of the haze, and she quickly shakes her head. “No, honey. I—” Her throat bobs. “It’s?—”

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