Page 124 of Iced Out

He takes the shot and the lamp lights up…with the final buzzer going off a moment later.

The sound echoes, loud and glorious, making the crowd go absolutely haywire. The arena is overtaken with screaming and cheering in a roar so deafening, I can’t even hear my own breathing. My heart races in my chest, amplified by the cadence of applause and ricocheting off my ribs at a hundred miles per hour.

I find Oakley on the other side of Rossi and Cam, all their helmets, sticks, and gloves tossed on the ice as they celebrate the victory. As if feeling my stare, his eyes find me, and I toss my own gear before closing the distance between us. The second I’m within two feet, I launch myself at him, only to have two strong arms hold me to his chest. Anchoring me there as best as he can with all these fucking pads in the way.

“We did it.” My hand wraps around the back of his neck, and I pull his sweat-soaked forehead against mine. “We actually fucking did it.”

He nods, his nose bumping mine when he does. “You were…amazing, Quinn.”

I hug him more, tighter and closer than I have in weeks. And it’s the first time in those weeks I’ve actually felt…whole.

What the fuck is that except—

“I love you too,” I say, bringing my mouth to his ear. “I love you so fucking much.”

He pulls back, dark brown eyes lighting up in ways I haven’t seen in far too long. And I’ve missed it more than I realized.

“You’re sure it’s not the high of victory talking?”

“After all the shit you pulled?” I laugh. “Absolutely not. It’s all me, baby.”

His palm cups the side of my face as he examines my face like a blind man seeing for the first time. Slowly and thoroughly, memorizing every inch. And despite the pandemonium happening around us, like I’m the only thing that exists.

A flash of his tongue peeks out at the corner of his lips, and his eyes take on a sorrowful sheen. “I know you’re probably sick of hearing me say I’m so sorry, but—”

“You’re right. I am.” My fingers wrap around his pads and I give him a wicked grin. “So you better make this last one worth it.”

The playfulness in my tone must be enough to make him relax and even get a small smile forming. “Just know…it’ll be a long time before I ever forgive myself for—”

I shake my head and cut him off again, this time by crushing my mouth to his.

My tongue spears between his lips, my arms wrap around his neck, and I kiss him the way I’ve never kissed him before: freely and out in the open, where the entire fucking world can see.

And if possible, the roar of the crowd gets even louder.

Then again, it’s not every day you see two hockey players making out on the ice after winning the Frozen Four.

Breaking for some air, I rest my forehead against his again, needing some part of my body touching his at all times. Grounding me in a moment seemingly too perfect to possibly be real.

“Did you just kiss me on national television?” he whispers against my lips.

I nod. “You were still trying to apologize. I had to shut you up.”

And then I kiss him again.

“Ah, jeez! Get a room, you two!” Rossi shouts, causing the two of us to break apart.

“Yeah, but preferably at Quinton’s,” Camden cuts in. I look up in time to see Rossi give him awhat the fucklook, and Cam gestures toward me, sheepishly adding, “What? He’s a noisy fucker. Quite literally, and I don’t feel like having to sleep with earplugs tonight.”

Oakley chuckles, pressing a kiss behind my ear. “Mmm, just the way I like it.”

“Good to know.” I grin, a different kind of adrenaline heating my blood. “Because celebrations are in order, and once we’re back to campus, I know exactly how we can kick them off.”

Thirty-Five

Oakley

The bus arrives back to campus late. Way later than any of us thought it would, and by that time, most of the team’s celebration high has worn off. Actually, half the team—Quinn included—is dead asleep when the bus rolls to a stop outside our home arena.

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