Page 60 of In My Hockey Era
“I’ll take care of it,” Vivian says solemnly.
“Thanks, Viv.I really appreciate this.I gotta go.”I end the call and pocket my phone just as Lucy is approaching.
“Ready?”she asks.
“Let’s do it.”
Back at the convention center, the event hall is buzzing with the last wave of goodbyes and media wrap-ups, players and press filtering out in waves.Lucy stands next to me, arms crossed, eyes narrowed slightly as she listens to the PR coordinator go over the final talking points.She looks good—scratch that, she looks stunning—even in just jeans and a Stampede hoodie, her hair in loose waves that fall over her back and shoulders.I know how soft those tresses are when they’re falling over my chest as she kisses a path lower…
I shouldn’t be this distracted, but it’s been less than twelve hours since I had her bare beneath me, breathy and desperate, and now I’m supposed to act like she’s just my co-host for this event?Torture.
I clear my throat, fighting to get myself in check.
“Bennett?”
Oops.I missed something.I blink and look at the PR guy—what was his name again?Kevin?Evan?Something like that.“Yeah?”
He sighs, clearly used to wrangling athletes who mentally checked out three conversations ago.“I asked if you’d like to share your biggest takeaway from the weekend?”
Oh.Right.
I slide a glance at Lucy, then smirk.“That hockey is a powerful aphrodisiac.”
She elbows me, but I see her fighting a smile.I’ll probably catch hell from her later for that remark, but seeing her pink and flustered?Totally worth it.
“Seriously though,” I continue, “it was awesome getting to see the way the fans showed up, how much the game brings people together.And it was cool being on the other side of things for once, getting to cover the event instead of just playing.”
The PR guy nods, apparently satisfied.He turns to Lucy.“And you?”
She hesitates, just for a second, and I recognize the look on her face.A wall going up.
I bump her shoulder.“C’mon, Quinn.Tell ‘em how much you loved sitting next to me all weekend.”
She rolls her eyes but plays along.“Right.It was a dream come true,” she deadpans, then shifts, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.“Honestly?My biggest takeaway is that hockey fans are some of the most passionate people on the planet.And that this game—this weekend—was about more than just the sport.It was about community, about giving back.That’s what made it special.”
It’s a good answer.A great one.And I hate that she still doesn’t fully see herself as part of it.
That’s why I got a gift.
When we finally get out of the conference room, I catch her wrist.“Hang back a sec?”
She lifts a brow but lets me pull her to the side of the now-empty hall.
“You trying to steal me away for one last scandalous moment before we leave Nashville, Wilder?”
I chuckle, stepping in closer.“Tempting, but no.”Reaching into my duffel, I pull out the folded jersey and hand it over.“I got something for you.”
She blinks, taking it.“What is this?”
“Open it and see.”
She unfolds the fabric, the white All-Star jersey crisp and covered in signatures.Her gaze catches on the back, on the name printed there.McMasterson.Her favorite goalie—even if I do kind of want to murder the guy.
Her breath hitches.“This is—” She lets out a squeal, speechless for the first time ever.
“Both teams signed it,” I say, watching her expression carefully.“Figured if you’re gonna be part of this world, you should have something that proves you belong.Because you do, Quinn.Just as much as any of us.”
She stares down at it for a long moment, fingers brushing over the inked names.When she finally looks up at me, her eyes are bright, her voice softer than usual.“Bennett.”
