Page 177 of The Overtime Kiss

I’m wearing…my Halloween costume.

The one-shouldered, crystal-blue skating dress that made Tyler’s jaw drop when he saw it.

I skate to the center of the arena with a stupid smile on my face. I stop, lower my face, and wait for the music to start.

It’s a pop song by Amelia Stone. Something the whole crowd knows. But a song Tyler knows too. One we’ve listened to together in the kitchen. “Only You.” The song I wanted to walk down the aisle to. A song that brings me joy.

And as it plays, I fly around the rink, arms spread, ice scraping, cool air rushing past me.

My parents tried. Oh hell, did they try. But they were never able to take my love of this sport away from me.

Now, I’m chasing the moon out on the ice with the strength of an army, it seems, behind me.

And I land every toe loop, every flip, every axel better than I ever have before. I feel like I’m both incredibly strong and utterly weightless.

When I circle the rink, my gaze catches on a row of people behind the boards.My people. Isla and Trevyn and Skylar, with Maeve and Josie right behind them. Then Jasmine and her parents. Tiffany and her mom. The head of the rescue, the heating repair woman, and…my fairy godmother.

Ah, what the hell. I give a quick wave to the row of them as I skate backward, faster and faster still. Crossing over, I move around the oval, and when I do, my gaze lands on three more people.

Elle, and the two little people I’ve fallen in love with. I can’t help it—I make a heart just for Luna and Parker.

And they give me one right back.

I skate to the center of the ice as the music swells, then glide on one leg, spinning in circles. After several, I then tuck my arms in and my knee, lifting my torso straight, whirling faster into a wild blur of a finale.

When I finish, I’m breathless. Electric. Overjoyed. Especially when Number Forty-Four tosses a bouquet of roses from the tunnel, right onto the ice.

I laugh, from happiness, from the thrill of a job well done, and from knowing that even though I didn’t see him, he clearly sneaked out of the locker room to watch me.

Like he did that first time.

I feel like I’m glowing from the inside out. Because this man has always wanted to let me shine.

But there’s still another period to play, and hockey games are hard-fought. When the Sabers tie it up, I groan from my spot in the corridor where I’m watching on monitors.

“Seriously?” I say to the screen, wrapping my arms tight around my chest. I’m still in my costume since Everly wanted me to skate at the end of the game if they win and toss crocheted dogs—modeled after the Sea Dogs mascot Scuppers—into the stands along with the team.

They’ve got to win though.

“C’mon,” I mutter as a Sabers forward races toward the net, flicking the puck to a teammate who passes it right back to him a few seconds later, then lines up for a wrister.

In the crease, Max dives for it, stretching across the net, and slapping it out, right to Tyler’s waiting stick as he takes the rebound down the ice, flipping it to his brother.

Who barrels toward the Sabers net, as if he’s hell-bent on breaking the tie in the final minute.

But the Sabers goalie stops him, and a minute later, the game flips into overtime.

I hold my breath a little longer.

The puck changes hands so many times in the first four minutes that I consider biting my nails for the first time ever. They’re gel, so it’ll be tough. But I’m tempted to try. Especially since there’s only one minute left till this game goes to a shootout.

I watch by the tunnel, biting my lip, urging on the Sea Dogs as Asher, Wesley, and Rowan battle it out on the ice against the Vegas team, a three-on-three style play. Asher fights for the puck in the corners, passing it to Wesley, but the Sabers goalie blocks the shot. Thirty seconds left, and Miles, Ford, and Tyler hop over the boards, with Tyler tearing down the ice like a cheetah on blades, and in two seconds, he picks it off from the Sabers forward, ferries it down the ice like a man possessed, and flicks it to Ford, who’s set up near the goal.

He lifts his stick and wastes no time—the puck whips past the goalie’s outstretched arm and lands right in the twine.

Game over!

“Yes!” I shout, and I’m jumping on my skates, cheering so hard as the guys swarm each other in the biggest embrace with Tyler, Miles, and Ford at the center of it all.

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