Page 5 of The Final Faceoff
“You’re weird.”
He shrugs as if saying,You fucking know it and love it.
I lean back, studying him. “So . . . where do you think they’ll send you?”
His smirk fades slightly. “Jacob’s looking into it. It’s not about where they send me—it’s about where we can get in that I actually like and will pay well.” He pauses. “He mentioned New York.”
I blink. “Wait. Seriously?”
He nods.
“And you’re okay with that?” I ask, because I hate when he gives me five words and then stops talking like his quota for the day has been met.
He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair, pushing the messy strands back—only for them to fall right back into place. “It’s . . . a lot.” He doesn’t elaborate, but I hear it in his voice.
The change. The uncertainty. The idea of uprooting everything and starting over, even though he’s spent his entire life adapting. His fathers moved a lot because they were either playing or coaching—I can’t remember. There are way too many stories they tell. The thing is that until the twins, Killion and Kaden, started high school, they moved a lot.
That’s one of the things Leif and I have in common: the constant moving from one place to another. However, he only moved across the country. I was traveling around the world until, technically, high school. Practically, that change happened a year after Mom died. Dad realized he couldn’t keep up with his childrenandhis military career.
“I always do,” he confirms. “Not that I’ve ever played for another team. But what’s the alternative? Stay until I retire and never win anything?”
I don’t have an answer. And for once, I think he just needed to say it out loud.
“No matter where you go, you’re still one of the best goalies in the league.”
He snorts. “Sure. Tell that to the fucking scoreboard.”
I roll my eyes. “I mean it, Leif. You could play for a team of Vikings and still be a brick wall in front of that net.”
His mouth quirks, but he doesn’t argue. Which, for Leif, is basically admitting I’m right.
He stretches his arms over his head before sliding out of the booth. “Come on. Let’s get our food. Then we can head home and just veg for the rest of the day.”
“Sounds like a plan. I need food and a nap.” I push my chair back, following him toward the buffet where we pick out trays of thinly sliced beef, pork belly, and an unnecessary amount of mushrooms—his, not mine.
As I grab a plate, I glance up at him with a smirk. “I might even torture you with a romcom.”
Leif makes a face. “Only if you watch my last two games and explain what the hell went wrong.”
I groan, dragging out the sound like it’s the worst possible punishment. But honestly?
I love hockey.
It’s one of the few things I let myself lean into when I met him. One of the few constants in a life that’s always moving. And maybe, just maybe, watching those games will tell me what Leif won’t say out loud.
Still, I make a show of sighing dramatically. “Fine. But I’m picking a romcom afterward.”
He grins, reaching for the tongs. “Deal.”
ChapterThree
Leif
When a One-Timer Changes Everything
Week three and we’re still debating on where the fuck I’m going to end up playing. The Arizona Armadillos want to know where I’m standing. Not with them, obviously. But I’m yet to decide where I’ll be going.
Boston wants me, New York too. There’s space in North Carolina if I dare to say yes.
