Page 106 of The Pucking Player

“Just saying.” He drops onto the bench across from me. “My sister’s not big on public declarations.”

“Your sister’s not big on a lot of things I’ve done lately.” I peel off my practice jersey, wincing at muscles still sore from Coach’s recent torture sessions. “But playing it safe isn’t working out so well for me.”

Adam’s quiet for a moment, then, “You know what Sophie told me once? Back when you first started pursuing her?”

I look up, curious.

“She said you were like a hurricane, an unstoppable force that just swept in and rearranged everything in your path.” He grins. “Pretty sure she meant it as a complaint.”

“And now?”

He shrugs. “Now I’m thinking a hurricane might be exactly what she needs. Someone who’ll fight for her even when she’s being stubborn as hell.”

“High praise from the guy who wanted to murder me a month ago.”

“Oh, I still might.” But he’s grinning. “Depends how tonight goes.”

I grab my shower kit, trying not to think about all the ways this could go wrong. “You really think you can get her here?”

“Leave that to me and Jess. We’ve got years of practice manipulating our baby sister.” He heads for the door, then pauses. “Hey, O’Connor?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget I will end you if you hurt her again.”

36

GAME-WINNING MOVES

SOPHIE

“Ican’t believe I let you ladies talk me into this.” I slump in my seat, trying to ignore how the entire arena vibrates with energy. “We have a ten a.m. flight tomorrow.”

“Please.” Jenna bumps my shoulder. “Like you were going to miss this. Historic game. Russian Bratva takedown celebration. Your ex looking particularly edible?—”

“He’s not my ex.” I tug on my sweatshirt, refusing to acknowledge how good Liam looks during warm-ups. “We were never officially together.”

“Right.” Jessica appears with nachos, because apparently stress eating is now a family sport. “You just let him deflower you in a B&B during a snowstorm. Totally casual.”

“Can we not discuss my sex life in the middle of Madison Square Garden? Please?”

“What sex life?” Jenna scoffs. “Newsflash: you’ve got none. That’s why we are going to Miami tomorrow. You’ll get railed real good, and then you’ll be like, ‘Liam who?’”

I roll my eyes as the crowd suddenly erupts in a chant that makes my stomach flip.

“O’Connor! O’Connor! O’CONNOR!”

I can’t help looking. Liam’s on the ice for warm-ups, that familiar number eleven jersey like a magnet for my eyes. He’s doing his pre-game stretches, all long lines and focused intensity.

“Would you look at that.” Jenna elbows me as Liam fires a perfect top-shelf shot. “Someone’s showing off.”

“He always shoots like that.”

“Yeah, but usually he’s not scanning the crowd between every shot like he’s looking for—” Jenna cuts off as Liam’s eyes find our section. Even from here, I feel the jolt of connection. “Oh.Oh.”

He misses his next shot. Completely whiffs it.

“Smooth, O’Connor,” Jessica mutters, but she’s grinning. “Real smooth.”

---