Page 143 of Brace and Chase

I talked to my brother and the world didn’t end. I talked to Gab and everything was fine, wasn’t it?

“I can do this,” I whisper to myself, gazing at the open door.

“What?” Bear asks, but his voice sounds far away.

I sprint out of there and see his silhouette, walking down the very same tunnel where I slammed him against the wall before our first game as teammates.

Now everything is different. So different that it might be a bit much, but I can take it.

As long as he’s next to me.

“Charlie,” I shout, running down the tunnel to meet him.

He turns, frowning.

“What—”

I grab his cheeks and pull him up to kiss him. I pour everything I’m feeling into that kiss—the fear, the excitement, the unadulterated joy.

I lean back, knowing I’m going to have to tell him this time, not just show him.

“I love this team,” I speak hurriedly, still grabbing the sides of his face. “I will always want to see them often. They’ve been really good to me in the past, but you’re my future Charlie Heart. If you want to retire after this season then we’ll retire. And we’ll move to that ridiculously namedhometown of yours. If you want to play for another fifteen years, then I’ll be right there next to you. We can hold each other upright and use our sticks as canes while the babies make fun of us.

“I don’t care what we do as long as I’m next to you, because you’re everything, sweetheart. I love you.” I kiss him again, the explosion of love inside me too big to contain, and he kisses me back just as hard. His eyes are wide and happy when I give us space to breathe.

“I love you too,” he whispers, then laughs lightly.

“Then you better brace yourself, sweetheart. Because I’m going to be chasing that perfect ass of yours til the day I die.”

THIRTY-NINE

SWEETHEART

The few disrespectfulshouts from Denver fans only make me want to smash their players harder against the boards.

The picture came out, as promised, but we didn’t pay them any mind besides checking that they’d been posted. Clearly, everyone in the arena is aware, or was made aware when they arrived.

Their fans are out for blood, and so are the players.

We don’t make it easy for them, though.

Not at all.

Our cheesy declaration of love that I will never forget—and it will never not give me butterflies, though I’ll never confess that to anyone—gave me a high of happiness unlike anything I’d felt before.

But it also reinforced my determination to put Nik in aposition where he can show the world why he deserves the James Norris Memorial Trophy this season.

His viral save back in April made enough buzz that he’s one of the finalists, but I want to guarantee he gets it. Because he does deserve it.

Of course, I also want us to achieve the ultimate feat and win the Stanley Cup, but the whole team is putting all our energy into that anyway, so no need to focus on it any more.

Nik and I keep our record intact, we don’t let a single goal in throughout the game, but our line doesn’t put in a single goal either, and by the time there’s ten minutes left of the second period, we’re getting frustrated.

It’s then that the crowd goes wild during a commercial break, and I look around, trying to find out what all the fuss is about.

Then something on the jumbotron catches my eye, and my mouth falls open as I slap Nik’s chest to get his attention.

“What?” he mumbles, and I just point for him to see. He’s as speechless as me.

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