Page 73 of Shoot Your Shot

Walker’s eyes narrow as he grabs his stick. “Because you caught your mistake on your own, I’ll let it slide. But next time you mention my wife’s body—at all”—he taps his stick on the ground—“you’re going to take my hockey stick right to the fucking nuts.”

Ryder grimaces, resting his hand over his junk and nodding quickly. “Understood, James.”

“Seriously, guys?” Tripp groans, dragging his hand over his face.

For a moment, Tripp stares at everyone in disbelief. As the team’s goalie, he takes everything more seriously than most of the team—aside from me. Well, and Walker because Walker James came from absolutely nothing, and now that he’s made a name for himself, he wants to make everyone who’s helped him along the way proud. And he sure as hell has too. He’s one of the very few centers who, as far as talent goes, is evenly matched with Cam Hardy—the Bruins center.

Even though Logan, Ryder, and Tripp might act like a bunch of cackling knuckleheads, they care about this team and its success more than anything.

Logan stands, grabbing his helmet and smacking Tripp on the back.

“I promise, we’re not going to be a bunch of nuts on the ice.” He looks at all of us, proud as a peacock. “See what I did there?I know the pussy is one tough fucking piece of flesh. My nuts are super sensitive. Just this morning, Amelia accidentally smacked me in them when I was putting my sneakers on, and I almost cried, so I’m switching the reference around. You know, to be more fitting.” He looks back at Tripp. “Don’t get me wrong, T. Without Kolt, this game is going to be fucking brutal. But I’m confident we can get it done.”

Most of the time, I think whatever nonsense Sterns is going on about is annoying. But right now, I find myself grinning slightly at him talking about nuts versus vaginas.

He has a point though; I mean … last night is proof that a pussy can take a fucking beating. But nuts? Hell, I tear up, just thinking about being kicked in them.

Standing up, I think I surprise everyone when I clap my hands loudly. “Time to go get to work, fellas. When you win this weekend—and that’s when, not if—it’s going to be because you worked your asses off.”

I wave my hand toward Harland, the kid who’s been filling in for me. “He’s done a great job, stepping up in my absence. Coach has trained him because he trusts him. Now, it’s time you all trust him too.” I inhale, gripping my palms together. “I’d give anything to be playing with you all, but right now, that’s not an option. So, go out there and do your jobs. Deal?”

Nodding, everyone stands and begins filing out onto the ice. Each one of them gripping my shoulder while they pass. For the first time since my heart attack, I feel like I’m part of the team again. I guess I always was, but I was too much of a stubborn prick to see it.

“Quite a speech, coming from you,” Coach says, standing beside me. “How are you feeling about the appointment on Monday?”

I keep my eyes forward on the ice. “It’ll be what it’ll be, right?”

“That’s right,” he utters before hitting his elbow against mine. “Glad to see everything with your wife worked out, Kolburne. It’s good to have you back.”

My head spins toward his, and I frown. “How did you—”

“My wife drives me batshit crazy, Kolt,” he says. “But if that woman ever left, I’d lose my mind. The impact Paige being back has had on you wasn’t lost on me. And today, it’s obvious that the ton of bricks sitting on your shoulders … well, it’s been lifted.” He nods his head. “I’m happy for you. I think the past month, it was imperative she was here with you.” As he starts to walk past me, he grins. “Women just have a way of making us a better version of ourselves. It’s like their secret power.”

When he walks away, I let his words sink in. I’ve always known Coach Jacobs was a smart dude, but he’s even more intelligent than I thought.

Before Paige came into my life at seventeen years old, I was just an angry kid who had no idea how to give or accept love. I didn’t deserve her, but she chose me anyway. Even as a teenage kid who didn’t know much, I knew right then I’d spend my entire life choosing her.

We might have gone to hell and back, but in the end, we came out together, holding hands.

Ibring the last box labeledChristmasdown from the attic and push it beside the others I carried down a few minutes prior. Ted must be in the holiday spirit because she rubs against my leg, purring loudly, proving she’s not the bitchy cat she likes to portray herself to be.

I reach down, patting her head. “You gotta start being nicer to Paige,” I warn her. “And for the love of fuck, would it kill you to be nice to Rocket? The poor bastard’s had it tough enough.”

She rubs her head against my hand, which I imagine is her saying,Fuck you. I’m a girl named Ted. I do what I want. Eventually, she struts away.

I’ve never been a cat guy. Yet here I am, with not one but two cats living in my house. But let’s be real; if Paige had told me she had ten cats, I would have moved them all in here without thinking twice and probably thanked her after.

I’m such a fucking sucker when it comes to my wife.

I got home from the arena a bit ago, and she isn’t back from work. Given it’s mid-November, I know that woman is itching to blast annoying Christmas tunes and sip coffee while staring at her tree. So, when I walked into the empty house, I figured I’d make her happy and bring everything down so that she could go to town, decorating our house. She’ll no doubt ask me to help,but then she’ll tell me all the ways I’m fucking it up, only in a polite, sweet way.

And like the pathetic asshole I am, I’ll love every second of it.

I thought about doing this a week ago because I know once Halloween passes, she’s in full Christmas spirit. But I wanted to wait until she gave me an answer. Now that she has, I want to see her smile when she gets home from the office and sees that her trees and her decorations are waiting to be put up.

Hearing her car pulling into the garage, I grin anxiously. I might be a heavily tattooed six-foot-tall dude, weighing two hundred ten pounds, but my wife still makes me nervous, even though she shouldn’t. Because things like lugging down some measly boxes of Christmas shit is the kind of stuff that makes her happy.

I hear her come into the house, and right away, I know she’s slipping her shoes off and hanging her jacket up. Warmth spreads through my chest, and that same sensation I used to feel when she came home from work and I was already here hits me.

---