Page 146 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

Amelia.

She came with my sisters—and she’s screaming for me, pounding her fists on the glass, looking every bit as feral as they do.

And she’s wearing an Appies jersey. Backwards, for some reason.

When our eyes connect, her grin spreads. Most of her face is blue, with white painted around her eyes like a bandit’s mask and my number in white on one cheek. A heart is on the other.

Then she points the the jersey, gesturing wildly until I realize—she’s wearing it backwards so my name is plain to see, right across her chest.

My throat gets tight, and I lift my glove. She waves back like a maniac, and one of my sisters shoves her—Grey, I think?—and then all four of them are screaming again as Nathan slams someone to the boards right in front of them.

“Nothing like a little motivation, yeah?” Eli says, slapping me on the back. “Let’s go.”

It’s more than motivation. It’s …everything.

Every significant person in my life is in this building, and the thought makes warmth spread through me. More than a need to win the game, I’m fueled by the need tofinishthe game, get out of the locker room, and to find Mills.

The fact that she’s here, wearing my name, my number, screaming for me just like I said last night—it makes the tiny flicker of hope roar into something larger.

I practically throw myself over the wall as our line heads back out. The Badgers have found a second wind, which is dangerous. Even with only five minutes left.

A two-point lead isn’t enough. I’m sure Felix would love to hold them scoreless in this final period after our defense let him down.

And now that I know who’s watching, I want a goal of my own. I want my moment. For my sisters. For Mills.

I’ve played well—maybe the best period I’ve had this season, aside from actually sending a puck into the net myself. Time to change that.

Eli sends it my way as we cross the blue line. I have a shot, but it’s not a sure thing and I’ve got guys on me. But no one seems to notice Logan hanging quietly just outside the crease.

I have less than a second to debate taking the risky shot or going for the sure thing.

Slicing right, I line it up, but then at the last second send it behind the defensemen and straight to Logan. He tips it in.

The horn blares and the noise in the Summit is deafening. Logan skates straight to me, ramming into me with a hug that would have taken me off my skates had Eli not sandwiched me in from behind.

“Aw, Vanity gave up his glory for the good of the team,” Eli says. “Mama’s little boy is growing up.”

“Shut up,” I say through my smile.

“Nice one,” Logan says. “The assist. Not whatever Eli said.”

“Verynice,” Alec says, joining the group hug. “But the game’s not over yet. Think we can do it again?”

We don’t.

But it doesn’t matter because neither do they. Which means we win by three with six unanswered points in the third period.

The Summit goes wild. The horn goes on forever. Fans practically shake the stadium, pounding on the glass and stomping their feet. Our bench empties onto the ice in a big messy celebration.

But my gaze goes over the mass of bodies and finds Amelia.

She and my sisters are jumping up and down, hugging and screaming, but she stops when she sees me and steps forward, forehead and palms pressed to the glass.

Without a word to the guys, I sprint across the ice, never breaking her gaze.

There’s no way we can hear each other over the sheer volume in the Summit, but I line my hands up with hers and drop my forehead to the inch of plexiglass separating us.

This is easier than words.

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