Page 84 of Pinkie Promise

Having already scored three of the six goals that are about to make our win against Larch Peak U undeniable, I skate to the other side of the rink, analysing our team’s formation, checking to see if there’s anything that we can work on for our next game.

I pass Coach Benson and he gives me a subtle nod, telling me with that one gesture that he’s satisfied with our team’s play. I nod back at him and skate to the Carter U box, wanting to get my eyes on Fallon one more time before this game is over. I pretend that I’m taking a moment to catch my breath but really I’m done with this game and I’m dying to finally have my girl in my arms.

And not in the motel with the rest of the guys.

Having her in Larch Peak is important to me, and I’ve put the necessary plans in place.

From the way that my body’s feeling under my gear I can’t deny that I’m probably going to have a few bruises. The guys at Larch PeakU have hard-ons for getting up in your personal space and, even though I haven’t been brawling back, well aware that my chick’s in the stands watching my every move, most of this game has been push-and-shove. No-one’s more pissed off than Tanner, who took a bunch of deliberate hits before finally lashing out. It ended with Tanner snapping the other guy’s stick and then taking up full-time residence in the already-packed sin bin.

I don’t blame him. We shared a damn low-five before the ref escorted him off the rink.

Because at the end of the day, Tanner and I grew up in Carter Ridge. We were raised with a tight moral code but we’ll only take so much before we put you back in your damn place.

As soon as I reach the Carter U box I’m biting back a smile, looking at Fallon snuggled down in my jumper and giving me a shy thumbs-up. I check the clock on the screen and then mouthtwo minutesat her, a promise that this is almost done and then I can finally give her the night that she deserves.

She nods at me and her ponytail swishes, the cheer bow in her hair sparkling when it catches the light. And damn if that symbol of her loyalty to Carter U doesn’t make me the most satisfied guy on the ice right now. I drop my eyes briefly to her bare thighs, a gruff sound of approval rumbling in my chest, before I give her a jerk of my chin and finally turn around.

And that’s when it starts to go downhill.

The player who ushered us in and looked like he had a big-ass chip on his shoulder skids up right in front of me and flashes his eyes to where Fallon is sitting. The name on the back of his jerseyreads O’Neill, and even that kind of pisses me off because it gets me thinking about Connell O’Malley.

I know that my slow-simmering irritation with O’Malley is unwarranted because I know that Fallon only sees him as a friend, but no-one ever said that love makes a man rational.

O’Neill’s eyes lock on Fallon and I immediately move my body, blocking her from his view. When his eyes slide over to mine I give him an emotionless look of my own.

The sly smile on his face starts a warning throb in my temples.

“That yours?” he asks, gesturing with his stick towards the box behind me.

I watch him blankly for a couple of seconds before turning my head to glance over at Fallon. Her eyes have gone wide and she’s no longer smiling, as if she can sense the impending shit-storm that’s about to go down.

When O’Neill called over to us while we were making out earlier I could tell that Fallon sensed that he was bad news. I could tell from the way that she tensed up under my palms and subconsciously pushed her little body up against me. She didn’t know yet that this is what all of the Larch PeakU players are like. Hell, a whole load of hockey players in general can be good-for-nothing motherfuckers, but it’s the same for every sport, and with experience my team has learned to take the good with the bad.

I tip my chin at her, letting her know that I’ll handle this, and then I turn back to O’Neill, pushing forward on my skates so that he has no choice but to back up. I want him as far away from Fallon as is physically fucking possible.

I also don’t want her to hear hockey smack-talk, especially when this guy’s team is about to lose. Guys like this one will do anything to get under your skin.

“Yeah,” I grunt, shoving his stick out of my path when he tries to catch my boot.

“Way out of your league,” he comments, and I momentarily pause, grinning at that one.

“Hell yeah she is. She’s way out of everyone’s league. Tell me something I don’t know.”

The puck is nowhere near our goal and I’m scanning the rink to see if our team is about to slide in one last finisher when his next words suddenly get my muscles tensing.

“Cute bow,” he says. “She a cheerleader or something? Gotta wonder why the hell she’s with you – cheer chicks only bang footballers.”

My shoulders swell under my jersey and my quads start throbbing like they’ve got energy to expend. As if I haven’t been going hell for leather on the ice and secured my team another win.

I look down at O’Neill and suddenly I’m itching for a fight.

“Oh,” he says, drawing out the word with a shit-eating grin. “Shedoesknow some footballers. That’s eating you alive, huh?”

There’s nothing in this for him except hoping to rile me enough to fight and then getting me a bollocking from my coach. Right now that’s a consequence that I’m open to taking.

Because Fallondoesknow some footballers, Connell O’Malley being one of her closest damn friends. And although I trust that she would never cheat on me, I also wouldn’t blame O’Malley for shooting his shot if he wanted to.

And from the way that I’ve seen him looking at her? I bet he’s fucking wanted to.

---