Page 71 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

“ONE... HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

I’m nodding, and the room erupts in cheers. Couples kiss around us, and Sam presses his lips against mine, his hands traveling around to my lower back, drawing me up against him until there’s no space left between us.

“Happy New Year, Coach,” he says quietly, the words soft between us when he pulls back.

“Happy New Year,” I say, and it feels like more than a phrase—it feels like we’re ushering in a new era. Sam and I aretogethernow. Everything is changing.

And I’m not even sure if I want to return to California. I’m doing the one thing I said I never would, following the Hallmark-esque path of leaving the big city and falling in love.

Later, as Brett leads everyone in a very off-key rendition of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” I find myself wedged between Lola and Ellie on the couch.

We laugh as the guys link their arms together, attempting a kick line.

“Having fun?” Lola asks, nudging me. She’s radiant, wearing a skin-tight, sparkling silver dress. Her matching eyeshadow has drifted down onto her cheeks, which are merrily flushed. She seems like the kind of person who’s seeking out fun.

“This is completely unprofessional,” I say, but I can't stop smiling.

“Good.”She hands me a glass of champagne. For a moment, I wish I could look through her eyes and see me the way she does, know what I look like from her perspective. I remember moments in the box, when I desperately tried to keep myself from becoming friends with this woman.

“You deserve a night off, Finn,” she tells me. “And for what it’s worth…you guys are cute together. And I’m professionally qualified to say that.”

I wince, but return my attention to the guys. Apparently everyone here already knows that we’re together. I can only hope they really do keep it to themselves until we figure everything out.

At the front of the room, Sam is attempting a spin move that nearly sends Brett into a massive Christmas tree. Fallon bursts out laughing on the other side of the room. If I was in California, I might be networking right now. Attending some New Year’s party with the intention of finding new clients. I wouldn’t drink, wouldn’t have worn the dress I’m wearing. And I definitely wouldn’t let Lola grab my hand, pull me to my feet, and drag me to the middle of the dance floor with her.

But I’m not in California. I’m in Burlington, Vermont. Sam Braun wants to be with me, and I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.

“This is so amazing,” Lola laughs, her hand loose on my wrist.

Slowly, a smile spreads over my face.

“Yeah, it is,” I return, moving my hips. We keep dancing, and eventually the guys join us. Eventually the music will die, and everyone will go home. But for now, I shake my ass and laugh and watch as Fallon and Lola grind together.

For once, I just let myself have fun.

Sam

January slips into February, and Finn and I fall into a steady, consistent rhythm. My numbers keep climbing—save percentage, reaction time, everything Finn tracks in her endless spreadsheets. She beams every time she shows me a new chart, and I find myself working harder just to see that look of pride on her face.

“You might be gunning for MVP,” Coach Aldine says at practice one day, and I have to look down at my skates to keep everyone from seeing the smile on my face.

The other guys on the team don’t care when I ask them to call me “Sam” instead of “Sammy.” When you’re a superstar goalie, the masses bend to your will.

Life with Finn is easy and fun. Her adherence to a daily routine adds a little more structure to my life, and I convince her to stay at my apartment more than not. We have morning training, then practice, then game tape review over dinner. She likes to sit cross-legged on my couch, a glass of wine in her hand and her tablet balanced on her knee, her hair falling loose from its perfect style until eventually I reach over and tug it out completely.

For Valentine’s Day, we take a day trip to New York City between games. We eat at a nice restaurant.

“I could take clients here,” Finn says, her hand in mine. “Or…I could not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking about writing a book for a while,” she admits, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. I’ve never seen her like this before. “And this might be the perfect environment for it. Quiet, easy. I could take a break from clients and work on writing.”

“Finn,” I say, gripping her hand and leaning forward over the table, wishing I had her back in our hotel room already. “I think that’s a great idea.”

March is cold and slushy, and I have to buy her a proper pair of boots. We’re not the best team in the league, but we’re far from the worst. I’m getting better, but Finn insists there’s still something missing, that maybe I really do need to jump out ofthat plane to push through my fear of heights. She says we’ll do it, but we end up being too busy.

Finn and I spend cold nights together, cuddled closely in bed. She rests her head on my shoulder and tells me more about her adoptive parents, about the biological father that dragged her away from them. About the trailer she shared with too many siblings.

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