Page 203 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

A smaller crew, but we’ll be tighter than ever.

Getting into the car, Mikayla points to the picture she’s admiring.

“How did you get all of these?!” she squeals.

I really don’t think she realizes how loud she is, but her explosive excitement makes me chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“Like it?”

“LOVE IT!” she cheers. “So many pictures already! This is the one Mack said is trending on social media, but damn! The angle and everything are perfect! Look how clear it is!”

Now I’m really laughing because my sweetheart can barely contain her joy while wiggling in her spot.

“Note to self: Mikayla enjoys taking loads of pictures,” I conclude and watch her blush.

“I-I do,” she admits. “I wish I had more to put up in the dorm. Honestly, I haven’t unpacked yet.”

“You haven’t?” That’s intriguing knowledge to hold on to.

“Nope, not yet.” She closes the album and holds it to her chest, so she can give me her full attention. “I’m waiting for it to feel like home, but honestly, it’s just there. Maybe I’ll need a few more weeks to adjust to it. For now, I’m just living out of my suitcase. Makes me happy that we only need to focus on wearing scrubs and jerseys.”

I see her eyes light up suddenly, then she leans over until her lips barely touch mine.

“I need your jersey!”

“You need my what?” My brain is struggling to process her simple question.

“Your jersey.”

“My hockey jersey,” I conclude. “You need it for?”

“My collection.”

This woman…

“You’re collecting our jerseys.”

“It’s my right as the leader of the Heartbreaker Crew Strattonville Vipers Community to have the original four jerseys in my possession,” she emphasizes like some sort of declaration of independence speech. “Obviously, for research and preservation purposes only.”

“Right,” I smirk. “Like how you have our sweaters in the bottom drawer of your dresser in your attic next to Maddox’s underwear.”

“He told you!” she gasps in shock.

“Maddox enjoys reminding us that he’s the leader of the pack,” I tease with a wink before my phone rings. “Speaking of the devil. I bet you one hundred bucks that’s him calling.”

“If it’s not, you have to take a cool picture while you drive this Jeep!” she counters.

“You want me to multitask while driving, Mickey?” I tease. “That’s illegal.”

“If the cops aren’t around, it doesn’t matter,” she whines. “Think about it! Doesn’t have to be like when we’re moving, but me leaning out or something! I can have a whole photoshoot with your car in this dress.”

“That’s true.” My mind is already picturing the perfect scenario to throw her into.

If hockey wasn’t always on my mind and paid tremendously well, I would have become a photographer instead.

A gallery filled with photographs of Mickey and the crew.

Picking up my phone, I don’t wait to hear what Maddox has to say.

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