Page 55 of Hooked On Them

The puck slid across the ice like mercury, fast and unpredictable. I tracked it with laser focus, my peripheral vision catching Dominic cutting across the blue line with deadly precision. Perfect. Everything slowed down in that beautiful way it sometimes does, where the crowd noise fades and all you can hear is the scrape of blades on ice and your own heartbeat.

I faked left, drawing the defenseman with me, then sent a no-look backhand pass exactly where I knew Dominic would be.

He wasn’t looking at me, but he didn’t need to. Six years of playing together meant he caught the pass without breaking stride, dangling it between a defender’s legs before firing a bullet back to me as I crashed the net.

One touch. Top shelf. The goal horn blared.

I pumped my fist as Dominic crashed into me, our momentum carrying us into the boards. “Fucking beautiful, Collins!” he shouted over the roar of the crowd, thumping my helmet with his glove.

The rest of the guys piled on, a tangle of hockey limbs and exhilaration. When we finally untangled ourselves, I glanced up at the scoreboard: four to two with three minutes left in the third. Even with my brain half-filled with thoughts of Nora, I was playing some of my best hockey.

We closed out the game with an empty-netter courtesy of Jenkins and skated off with our fourth straight win. The locker room vibrated with energy. Someone had already hijacked the speaker system and was blasting our victory song while a dozen sweaty hockey players belted the lyrics at top volume.

I peeled off my gear, wincing as I pulled my shoulder pads over my head. A lovely bruise was already forming on my ribs from blocking a slap shot in the second period.

“Solid fucking game, Cap.” Hensley slapped my bare back with his wet towel. “That goal was nasty.”

“Thanks.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to work out the kink that had settled between my shoulder blades. “Dom made it easy.”

The man in question was hunched over his phone across the room, still half in his gear. His profile was tense, jaw working like he was grinding his teeth, which could only mean one thing: a text from his father. Garrett Wilson never missed an opportunity to tell his son how he could have been better, even after a win.

“So,” Jenkins shouted over the music, “Finnegan’s in an hour? First round on me since you losers made me look good tonight.”

A chorus of approval echoed around the room. I nodded, already thinking about the glorious plate of nachos I’d demolish.

“Bring your lady, Jen,” someone called out. “I need to make sure she still exists and isn’t just a really sophisticated sex doll!”

“Fuck off, Porter!” Jenkins threw a balled-up sock in the general direction of the voice. “Just because your hand is your only companion doesn’t mean the rest of us are that pathetic.”

“Me and my hand make a very happy couple, thank you very much,” Porter shot back.

The room erupted in laughter and towel snaps.

“What about you, Collins?” Porter turned his attention to me, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “When are you going to bring someone? Or are you secretly married to the game?”

I rolled my eyes, but something sharp and impulsive flickered through me. “I’ll be there. With my girl.”

The room went silent. Even the music seemed to lower itself automatically.

Porter’s jaw slackened. “No shit?”

“Holy fuck, the captain’s got game off the ice too!” Hensley whistled long and low. “Who is she? Do we know her?”

I kept my expression carefully neutral even as panic started climbing up my throat. What the hell was I thinking? “Guess you’ll find out tonight.”

Next to me, Dominic’s head had snapped up from his phone, his eyes boring into me with an intensity that was a bit alarming since it was rarely directed at me. “You’re bringing her?”

“Yeah,” I said a bit too defensively. “That a problem?”

Dominic shoved his shoulder pads into his bag with unnecessary force. “Nope.” The p popped with explosive finality.

An awkward beat passed before Jenkins clapped his hands. “All right, assholes, shower up!”

The tension between us dissolved as everyone scattered to the showers, but I didn’t miss the way Dominic deliberately avoided looking at me again.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and suited up, I jogged down the corridor toward the video room where I was pretty sure I’d find Nora. My heart hammered against my ribs, and not just from the quick pace. What the hell had I been thinking saying I’d bring my girl?

Nora and I had barely talked over the past week about a fake dating plan. With games, practices, and other obligations, we hadn’t had the time. Navigating around each other at practices and meetings was already awkward, especially under Coach’s watchful eye, and now we were going straight to the Titans’ den? A social setting with a bunch of unruly hockey players with loose lips after drinking alcohol was going to be so much fun.

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