Page 99 of Test the Ice
You can’t say things like that to me.
My brow furrows.
Me
Why? Because you’re not used to it? That’s a tragedy, Dimples. You’re just going to have to get used to it.
Rhodes elbows me, and I quickly check back into the conversation. I slide my phone into my pocket and take a sip of my beer. The vibration against my thigh pulls on my attention, but I do my best to stay checked in.
Coach Crawford looks to Coach Jacobs. “We need to change the lines.”
Lines being the groups of players that head onto the ice together. Our lines and shifts are changed often, sometimes even during a game to better fit our opponents. Then there’s the fatigue too. Sometimes I can barely make it to the bench after a long shift because of my speed.
Coach Jacobs nods sternly. “Tolliver and Page will be best matched up against you.” He points to me. “They’re just as fast, so you’ll be able to keep up.”
“Have you studied Berg?” Rhodes raps his knuckle against the table. “He’s one of the best goalies in the league.”
“Don’t let Emory hear you say that,” I mutter.
Rhodes chuckles, and the conversation shifts to offense.
My phone is burning a hole in my pocket, so I secretly check it again.
Reese
You know you don’t have to buy us things or treat me like I’m actually going to have your last name one day, right?
Oh, really?
Me
Who says you won’t have my last name one day?
Reese
Malaki!
Me
Future Mrs. Young!
This time, I keep my phone in my hand instead of putting it in my pocket. A month ago, I’d be fully engaged in the conversation happening right in front of my face and thinking of nothing but hockey, but since Reese stepped into my life, I have a zest for something else.
There’s a new objective that came out of nowhere, and even sitting at a table with two men who hold my future in their hands, I can’t seem to dismiss it.
Thirty-Four
REESE
“Finally!”I pull the rest of the thread through the needle. My fingers aren’t as stable as they normally are, and I’m blaming Malaki’s last text for that.
I eye my phone laying beside me on the bed and reread it again.
Future Mrs. Young.
What do I say to that?
I most definitely can’t respond in the way that my heart is telling me to, because it’s obvious that I’m becoming delusional.
