Page 44 of Behind the Net

I know to keep my eye on him, even if his teammates are setting up for a different formation. I know not to trust him.

I nod at Ward. “Yeah. I know him.”

“Good.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Let’s get out there and have a great game.”

I hit the ice, and the back of my neck prickles. On the other half of the rink, our opponents warm up, skating and shooting pucks at the goalie. The arena’s already packed, brimming with energy.

Rory Miller’s standing there, wearing a smug, cocky grin that makes me want to hit him. He tilts his head, turns, and skates for the net, sinking the puck in before he spins around. His smile stretches from ear to ear, and my gut seizes up with irritation.

He’s trying to get to me. This is what he does.

I head to my net, centering myself. In front of the goal posts, I warm up, and my gaze locks with Pippa’s. She’s sitting behind the net with my mom and my mom’s friend.

Pippa’s wearing a Vancouver Storm hat. I blink, staring at her in it, and those sparks ignite in my chest all over again.

She lights up, lifting her hand in a quick, shy wave that makes the corner of my mouth tip up. I wave back, and the frustration I felt moments before melts away. She points at her hat, and I nod, letting myself smile at her. I like seeing her in my team’s gear.

Beside her, my mom is chatting away, smiling. She says something to Pippa, who nods and laughs. My mom likes Pippa and asks about her every time I call, and I like that, too.

I like that after the game, Pippa and Daisy will be at home.

* * *

The whistle blows and the third period starts. My blood pumps hard as Calgary takes the puck.

Pippa’s gaze rests on my shoulders like a blanket, calming me, keeping me focused. I’ve blocked every shot, and the fans are chantingStreicher shut out.

Their left winger passes to Miller, who swings around Owens. He’s on a breakaway with the puck, skating hard, eyes on me. That fucking smug smirk on his face. His team gets in position, but I ignore them.

He’s frustrated. His smug smile is forced. I’m getting to him. He showed up here tonight to score against me, to prove something to me, maybe that he doesn’t need me or that I’m just another player to him.

His gaze flicks to something behind me, and his eyes go wide in surprise.

Pippa. My heart stops. He knew I had a thing for her in high school. I never told him, but he knew.

By the time I realize what he’s done, the fans are groaning in disappointment and the puck is in the net.

Miller skates past me with a catlike smile. The fans boo him, and he turns that grin on them, which riles them up more. My stomach sinks, my teeth grit, but I shove all the thoughts away as the game resumes.

I was focused on his weaknesses when mine sits right behind me.

* * *

We win, and after the coach reviews the game in the change room, I shower and head upstairs to the box.

My heart stops when I see Rory fucking Miller grinning down at Pippa, predatory gaze locked on her. He says something, she laughs, and he grins wider, stepping closer to her.

Primal protectiveness rises in me. It’s not uncommon for players from the other team to visit the box, especially if they have friends or family on the opposing team. I sure as fuck don’t like him being here, though, talking with her. My teeth grit, and I’m in front of him, placing myself between them, staring him down.

His dark blond hair is still damp, and he’s in his suit. Is he trying to fucking impress her or something?

He eyes me with smug amusement. “There he is.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I bite out, glaring at him.

His grin broadens, and I want to fucking kill him.

“Just catching up with the lovely Pippa,” he says before gesturing over his shoulder, where my mom, her friend, and Ward are talking. “And I wanted to say hi to Donna.”

---