Page 85 of Forecasting the Forward

Three hours later,I’m on the ice, my eyes on my wife instead of the puck, and I couldn’t care less.

“Jax! Get the fuck off the ice if you aren’t gonna do your fucking job!” Coach bellows at me. I skate toward the bench, massive smile on my face. He stops me before I step off the ice, his eyes narrowing. “I take it everything worked out with your wife? Did she find you okay?”

Using my stick, I point to Becca. She’s right behind our bench, exactly where I want her to be. “Sure did. You could have warned me she was coming, you know.”

“Yeah, I could have, but I bet you enjoyed the surprise.” Coach turns to see her, but she doesn’t notice him. Her eyes are solely focused on me. “Tell her to wait at the visitor’s locker room. I didn’t have enough time to chat with her when I met her in Cleveland, and I left you two in your own little bubble on the way back to Denver.”

“I’ll make sure she’s there,” I answer.

“And Jax,” Coach says, snapping his fingers in front of my face, “Don’t pull that shit again on the ice. This is your job, so be here, and do the fucking work.”

I nod as I sit beside Daws, and he leans toward me. “The fuck was that, man? You got your head in the clouds out there.”

I struggle to withhold the shit-eating grin that breaks across my face. My cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much since Becca showed up. “I know, but I’m good now. My girl loves me, and she’s here, so now I can focus.”

Gabe rolls his eyes as he chuckles, but I know he understands. He and Cassie had a similar experience at the first game she attended as his. He got hurt, went into the locker room, and came out with the focus of a gnat. Apparently Cassie had visited him during that time and professed her love for him, and he was understandably distracted after that. Now I get it. “I gave you shit after that first game with Cassie, but damn. Now I know how you felt. I could walk away right now and not care.”

“I know what you mean. I haven’t publicized it yet, but I’m retiring at the end of the season. My contract is up, and I don’t think my body can take much more. I’d be willing to think about a one-year contract with the Wolves, but I won’t be traded. We’re happy in Denver,” Gabe says quietly.

“Second line!” Coach shouts.

My mind whirls as I take in Gabe’s words, but I shove them to the side as we get a breakaway with the puck. Gabe has a shot all lined up, but at the last second, he passes it to me. I’m closer to the goal, but a Miami defender sits between me and the goalie. Doing some relatively fancy footwork I probably couldn’t repeat if I tried, I fake to the right, switch my stick, and shoot from my left side, watching as the puck sails over the goalie’s right shoulder.

The boys crowd me in celebration of my goal, and I look at Gabe in confusion. “Why didn’t you take the shot?”

He shrugs and gives me a smile. “Your girl is here. Trust me, Jax. If she’s anything like Cassie, she’ll bereallyexcited to celebrate when you get back to the hotel.”

I laugh as I shake my head, but as soon as I lock eyes with Becca behind the bench, I know what Gabe says is true. She’s looking at me like she’s never seen anything hotter.

After a blowout winwhere I scored two goals and had two assists, Becca meets me by the locker room entrance. She’s downright quivering with sexual tension, and I’m not sure if she’ll make it back to the hotel before she combusts.

“Jacob, I — what — I mean, wow,” she stammers.

I’m still in my uniform, only having removed my skates, and I lean down to whisper in her ear. “You okay, darlin’? You seem a little tense.”

I hear her whimper. “Why was that so hot?”

“The goal?”

“No,” she moans. “The whole thing. The goal was hot. You getting in that other guy’s face. Did you wink at me at one point? I’ve never come in public before, Jacob, so I don’t know how I might act, but that almost made me find out.”

“Never in public?”

“I mean, not in front of other people, no.”

“But you’ve come in public before?” I ask, lowering my voice so only she hears. No one is in the periphery, but this conversation is clearly meant for only me and my wife.

“Define public,” she whispers.

“Well, if I were to take you into a room down the hall right now, and have my way with you, would you come? And would that be considered public?”

“Good Lord,” she moans. “Maybe? I don’t know. How long until you’re ready? Do you have to ride the bus? Jacob, I’maching.”

Fuck. “You need me to take care of that ache, baby?”

“Yes. Please.”

Taking her hand, I drag her down the hallway. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m determined to find a private area. If my wife needs me to take care of that ache, I’m fucking doing it.

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