Page 86 of Good Pucking Luck

“Are you ready for tonight?” Hayes crawls behind me on the bed, wrapping his legs around me and peppering kisses on my shoulder. “Game seven of the conference finals.”

If we win, we’re conference champions.

“I’m ready,” I say, and kiss his arm. I turn and push him to his back, leaning over him. “And no matter what happens tonight, or in the Stanley Cup finals, we’re good, okay? You’re my good-luck charm no matter what.”

He smiles up at me, and I know my words are exactly what he needed to hear. “Good pucking luck,” he says, the three words that have become a pregame tradition for us.

“God, I love you.”

“You’re very sappy.”

I grin. “It’s all your fault.” I kiss his smile with mine. “Now let’s go play a hockey game.”

“I think I’ll just watch.”

I chuckle, then push to my feet. I have to go earlier, but Hayes, my parents, Donovan, and Anthony will come later.

I grab the rest of my things and make it to my bedroom door before Hayes says, “Ry?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“I love you too.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Hayes

“Istill can’tbelieve you’re dating Rylan Pierce,” Donovan says softly from his seat beside me in the arena. Anthony brings up one end, Mace on the other, and Julia on the right side of me.

“I know, right? So hot.”

“Insanely hot,” Anthony adds.

“Hmm?” Julia asks, and we snicker because I absolutely don’t want to share with her how sexy her son is.

“Oh, nothing. We were just talking about after the game.”

“Sure you were.” Julia gives me a grin, and yep, I blush.

My stomach is in knots when they begin announcing the players. They do the away team first, and I really hate Edmonton. I was hoping this round would be a little easier for my guy. When they begin announcing the Rebels, the crowd goes wild. Julia reaches over and grabs my hand, both of us cheering when they say, “Rylan Pierce!”

The series is tied at three games each, so whoever wins goes to the finals.

I look at the ice and see Rylan looking our way. He gives an up-nod and a smile before his face becomes pure concentration again.

The playoff beard is an added perk. I’ve always loved the way the hairs feel against my skin, and it’s this weird thing hockey players do by not shaving in the playoffs. I don’t get it, but I can’t pretend to get most of the weird hockey things. I’m thankful for them, though, because if not for his superstitions, we might not be where we are.

I can’t make myself sit down when Volkov and Stiller meet at center ice for the puck drop. It’s so strange that I call people by their last names now. It’s such a dude-bro thing. I blame my superhot boyfriend for that.

Rylan takes his spot on the blue line, and I must admit, I feel like I might throw up. Hockey is stressful when the man you love is on the ice. Even more so now that I watch him in person.

For someone who used to hate hockey, I’m the world’s biggest fanboy now. From the moment Volkov wins the puck drop, I’m screaming and jumping. My voice is raw, and my heart basically lives in my throat.

At the end of the first period, neither team has scored.

“Oh my God. This is so fucking stressful,” Donovan says while the teams are on intermission.

“You’re telling me.” I’m scared to keep watching, but I can’t turn away.

---