Page 91 of Branded
She had the best goals against average in the league. The highest save percentage.
And it had been that way for three years.
But her husband, and former captain, Stefan Barie, had retired several years back, and they’d recently adopted an adorable little girl named Roxie, and were planning on expanding their family.
Stefan was playing the stay-at-home dad and rocking that shit if the video feed of him cradling their baby in decked out Gold gear, a sparkling golden bow on her peach-fuzz-covered head was any indication, but I understood the urge to not be away from the family for half the year, especially when Brit had played in the league for as long as she had.
I lived and breathed the sport.
But if I had kids at home, it would be hard as hell to leave them behind.
I didn’t envy Raph.
Gotta get that big-league money before we retired, though.
Play it smart, retire on top, live happily ever after.
That was my plan, anyway. And Brit was smart enough to have a plan of her own, so I was just going to enjoy the magic—be proud as fuck that we’d managed to eke out four wins against them in the finals to take home the Cup and enjoy feeling domestic.
Because I was by myself on that tiny couch, that beer in hand, the game in hand, and Kailey was working on her computer.
She’d shyly asked if I minded her working on a side project for a few hours, since she was close to being done, and I’d told her the truth.
I didn’t mind at all.
We’d come back to her place the night before, stayed up for hours worshipping each other’s bodies, and every time she’d told me she loved me, I had felt a little jolt in my body. I would never ever get tired of her saying those words to me.
So today, when we’d woken up late, with a day off for me, and it being the weekend for her (off minus her side projects that was), I hadn’t been in any hurry to move.
We’d lazed in bed.
We’d showered together.
We’d ordered in lunch and cuddled on that small ass couch. And then Kailey had gone to her computer, and I’d caught up on some shows, unable to resist the urge to glance at her at regular intervals, to watch her work, her fingers moving furiously on the keyboard, her eyes glued to the screen. Totally transfixed and in the zone.
For hours.
It was fascinating.
She was amazing.
I could never find that kind of stillness in myself, always moving—my leg bouncing or tossing a ball when off the ice, or when on it, shooting a puck, working on my edges, flexing my stick. Even studying tape had to be done on the treadmill.
In fact, the only time I’d found stillness was with Kailey.
Talking to her.
Holding her.
Even just being here in this apartment.
I didn’t think I could sit at a computer for six hours, though, even if she wanted to play that dragon game she’d shown me before she’d begun working.
Cool game.
Something I’d definitely be down for, at least for a few hours.
But I didn’t have the patience to sit down and muddy my way through programming.
