Page 62 of Slap Shot Daddies

Days unfold with her perched in the stands during practice, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she rolls them at our antics on the ice.

Sometimes, she watches from the clinic, where we pretend to “help” her, only to end up distracting her with our banter and stories.

It all feels effortless, and for the first time in my life, I find myself dreaming beyond the rink.

I don't just want this season with her; I want every season that life has to offer, with Kenzie by my side.

Hockey has always been my first love, and this season? It's shaping up to be nothing short of legendary.

The Marauders are firing on all cylinders, players moving in perfect harmony, each pass and shot pushing us ever closer to the championship title.

The mere thought sends an electrifying thrill down my spine as I imagine the moment when we hoist that gleaming cup high above our heads, feeling its cold, metallic weight of victory in my grasp, while our names are immortalized on its silver surface.

As I glide across the freshly zambonied ice, my skates carving smooth arcs, my mind wanders. Not just to the championship, but to Kenzie.

I picture the scene vividly: standing on the rink, sweat-soaked jersey clinging to my skin, bruises and exhaustion evident, but overshadowed by the euphoria of victory.

In that moment, I pull her close, kissing her with abandon as the crowd erupts around us.

Let them watch.

Let everyone witness how much she means to me and to us all.

A loud smack echoes as the puck crashes against the boards, snapping me back to the present.

Coach's voice cuts through the air, but I'm only half-attentive, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as we weave through the drills.

I've always excelled at this game, my stick handling and speed setting me apart. But for the first time ever, there's something else I want to master.

Something beyond the ice.

I roll my shoulders, feeling the tension seep into the very fibers of my muscles, like a tightly wound coil refusing to unwind. It's not all from the game, though.

A smirk tugs at my lips as images from last night flood my mind, Kenzie, with that mischievous glint in her eyes, had thrust that damn book into my hands, challenging me to bring its pages to life.

And, well...I rose to the occasion.

The dull ache in my thighs and the persistent tightness in my lower back serve as a vivid reminder of just how eagerly I embraced that challenge.

Every twinge reassures me it was worth it. Completely worth it.

I tilt my head side to side, attempting to loosen the knots in my neck, but my mind stubbornly drifts back to Kenzie’s breathy whispers of my name, the desperate way she wrapped herself around me, her nails a fiery trail down my spine as if she couldn't draw me close enough.

Fuck, I need to focus on the game.

I force my attention back to the ice, my eyes trailing the puck as it glides smoothly between my teammates’ sticks, but I can sense that my distraction is as obvious as storm clouds on a clear day.

Reggie skates up beside me, his skates slicing through the ice with a soft swooshing sound, a knowing smirk dancing on hislips. His dark eyes glint with mischief under the bright arena lights.

“You all right there, mate?” he asks, nudging me gently with his elbow, a playful challenge in his voice. “You look a bit…distracted.”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head as the cold air nips at my cheeks. “Yeah, just…a little sore today,” I say, rotating my shoulders.

Reggie’s grin widens into a full-blown mischievous grin. “Ah, not from training, though,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Not even a little,” I admit with a chuckle, the memory of Kenzie’s wild laughter and the soft glow of her skin still fresh and vivid.

Reggie laughs heartily, the sound echoing around us as he taps his hockey stick against the ice. “She’s somethin’ else, isn’t she?” he says, his voice filled with admiration and a touch of envy.

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