Page 46 of Nash

“Okay then,” Crossland says. “And if things do get serious enough, be sure to visit HR, will you?”

“Yes,” I say.

“And tell Stokehill to do the same.”

“Will do,” I say, pushing back from my chair as they both stand. “Thanks again,” I say as I head toward the office door. “For the support.”

“Thank you, Reese,” Coach says. “Keep up the good work, kid!” he calls as I head out the door.

“I will!” I call back and do my best to look calm and collected as I head out of the office and back into the hallway of the arena.

Only when I’m out of sight do I blow out a breath, adrenaline making my body shake.

The conversation, while awesome because of the praise for my job well done, has made one thing incredibly clear.

I need to figure out where I stand with Nash.

The sooner the better.

I cheer from our seats in the crowd, jumping and clapping as Nash and Lawson and Pax are all forming an unstoppable unit as they speed toward the goal.

“Ohmigod!” Blakely shouts as Nash passes the puck to Lawson.

“They’re going to do it!” I yell back.

“Go, Pax! Go!” Monroe shouts as Lawson zips the puck to Pax, who then sends it right back to Nash, the trio gliding on the ice like lightning.

We’re all clutching each other’s hands, and I swear the entire crowd silences as Nash pulls his stick back and smacks a shot?—

Right past the goalie, the puck hitting the back of the net.

The buzzer roars, just barely louder than the crowd as the scoreboard shows we’ve won.

Monroe and Blakely and I scream, leaping up and down as we high-five complete strangers in the crowd. We’ve just won a first-round playoff game, something that the Badgers haven’t done in years.

The energy in the crowd is electric, and I settle long enough to look at the ice, spotting Nash looking up at me, smiling and pointing at me.

My heart flips in my chest, and I clap harder, doing my best to show off the jersey with his name on my back. He blows me a kiss before his team envelops him, and I swear I swoon a little bit.

The girls and I hang back for only a few minutes to let the crowds filter out, then we head out to Blakely’s car, going to her place for the night. It’s girls’ night, and we know the boys will be celebrating their win.

“That was incredible,” I say after we’ve all changed into PJ’s and have picked a spot on Blakely’s couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand, a tub of popcorn in the other.

“I’m so pumped for them,” Blakely says.

“We have a shot at the Cup,” Monroe says.

“It’s early,” I say, guarding my hopes. “But this is the closest we’ve ever come.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I shift my treats to the coffee table, pulling it out to swipe open the text.

Sofia: Thanks for fixing that copy on my site!

I grin down at my sister’s text.

Me: That’s what you pay me for, sis. ;)

Sofia: Still. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Did I tell you that ad alone lead to a forty percent conversion rate?

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