Page 49 of A Million Times, Yes
I sucked in a deep breath and opened the guest team’s door, immediately hit with the smell that had haunted me since I was a kid. A smell I no longer had in my life, but one I fucking loved. It was raw sweat, baked into the pads and the equipment of the players, and no matter how many times it was washed, the odor wouldn’t leave.
“About fucking time you joined us,” I heard.
I connected the voice to my old goalie, who was making his way toward me as the other guys yelled, “Jordan-fucking-Worthington!” in unison.
“My man!” another shouted. “We were hoping your corporate ass wasn’t going to be too busy to come.”
“And miss an opportunity to give you all shit?” I chuckled. “Never.”
There were so many faces looking back at me. Dudes I’d spent years of my career with, at least the ones who hadn’t retired or been traded—and they were all in different states of putting on their equipment and getting dressed, which didn’t stop them from coming over to greet me.
“It’s good to see you, Jordan.” My old goalie came in for a man-hug, slapping me on the back of my shoulder.
“You, too, bud,” I replied. “Feeling good about tonight?” I shook hands with some of the newer players as they approached.
“Against Boston?” He licked his lips like he was trying to charm some chick. “We’re going to fucking crush those Bears, and you know it.”
My old forward said, “Don’t even tell me you’re all Boston now?” He patted my back. “Because I don’t give a fuck what team you own—you’ve got New York blood in those veins.”
“He’s right about that. You’re New York through and through,” Coach said, a man who had guided and mentored me my entire tenure in New York. Once he was close enough, he hugged me. “You’ve been missed, Jordan,” he said, only loud enough for me to hear before he pulled away.
In the same tone, I whispered, “You have no idea how much I miss you and the team, Coach.”
Chapter Twelve
Maya
“I’m buying,” Emily said as we stood in line at one of the kiosks inside the Bears’ arena. “What do you want to drink?”
I laughed at my best friend. “No, Bettie is buying.” I took the hundred-dollar bill out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Can you believe that little sneak somehow stuck this in my scrubs without me knowing?”
Her eyes widened as she took the money. “Are you sure it was Bettie?”
“Who else would it have been? She gave us tickets to the game. She probably wanted to cover our drinks and food too.”
Emily pointed at the large menu above the window of the kiosk. “With those prices, we’re either eating or drinking. I don’t think a hundred dollars is enough to cover both.”
I hadn’t noticed the menu before she’d said something and pointed. The amount next to each item was completely obscene. “Who charges twenty-five dollars for a beer?” I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. Thieves.”
She sighed. “Right?”
“An arena in downtown Boston owned by some corporate assholes who have more money than God, that’s who. And they can get away with it because, hello, it’s hockey, and who doesn’t come here hungry and thirsty?”
Emily giggled. “Twenty-two dollars for a hot dog. I honestly can’t even right now. That hot dog better vibrate the whole way down my throat.”
I nudged her and laughed, feeling a vibration in my pocket that wasn’t coming from a hot dog. I pulled out my phone and read the screen.
Jordan:You’re all mine.
Because I wasn’t scheduled for any more thirteen-hour shifts because I was now back to my normal hours.
Which made me ... all his.
For just a moment, I closed my eyes and took in as much air as my lungs would hold, and then I opened my eyes and tilted the phone toward Emily. “Look at this.”
“Three words have never looked hotter.”
I moaned. “I know.”
