Page 130 of Pinkie Promise

I roll my shoulders and pull up our text thread.

Because, hey, a guy can still hope.

HUNTER:Baby, the game’s gonna start in five. I’m sorry about last night. I’m gonna win this for you.

Please be in the stands,I think as I press send, but I don’t ask her if she’s going to be there because I don’t want to deal with that kind of rejection right now.

I tap my phone against my knee, willing her to give me some sign that we’re okay. I hope to God that I didn’t screw this up beyond repair.

Benson comes into the changing room and signals to Caden to turn the music down.

Caden cranks it higher.

Benson gives him the finger.

“Alright Rangers, this is what you’ve been training for,” Benson shouts, making us all get to our feet, arms crossed and chests heaving.

We make a rough circle in the room. The music from the rink is blasting so loudly that it’s mixing with Caden’s playlist here in the changing room. My heart starts pumping hard, the phone in my hand crushed in a death grip.

Give me a sign, baby,I think to myself.Just one little sign.

“We’re stronger, faster, and more agile than those fuckers. Three periods and” – Benson points his finger in my direction – “I want you scoring inevery damn one.”

I give him a jerk of my chin, feeling some of the team clap me firmly on the back, and determination immediately shoots up my spine.

“Got it, Coach.”

“Get your asses out there and win this damn thing,now!”

We’re instantly moving, shoulders knocking into shoulders, but as I go to toss my phone down the screen suddenly lights up.

I borderline bulldoze into Tanner as I lunge forward to catch it from falling.

He bites back a gruff sound and then thumps me with his uninjured leg.

“Door’s that way, genius,” he grunts. Then he catches a look at whatI’mlooking at and his expression lightens, his eyebrows lifting up as his tongue swipes over his lower lip.

It’s one sentence from Fallon and all it says is,I’m here.

It’s exactly what I fucking needed.

“Yes.” I practically growl as I move my thumbs across the screen, ready to send her back a damn essay about how much Ilove her, how grateful I am that she’s here, but then Benson is grabbing the phone from my hands and using it to point towards the exit.

“Now!” he barks, his face as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “You can text your girlfriendafteryou win, Wilde.”

Tanner does a double-take. “Wait, what? You’re telling me that we’re allowed to have girlfriends now?”

“Jesus Christ.” Benson muscles us through the doorway, his face beet red.

“How come you’re only telling me that in the year that I graduate?” Tanner exclaims, genuinely in shock. “I could’ve been securing Ash thiswhole fuckin’ time?”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth,” Benson says, disregarding the fact that he just used the exact same language that Tanner did.

Benson gives us one last push until we’re standing at the far end of the rink with our teammates, strobes of light whirring over the ice as the guy on the mic hypes the crowd into total chaos. I can see some of the Michigan guys near the away teams’ player’s box and I roll my shoulders as I get a good look at them, shoving my hands into my gloves.

“We still have four minutes ’til they let us on the ice,” Austin says, so ready to go that his shoulders are bouncing. “Why’d they bring us out here if there’s still four freakin’ minutes?”

It’s a good point but I don’t care because I’m going to spend the next four minutes scanning the stands for my girlfriend.

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