Page 38 of Net and Chill

“Shit. That sucks.”

“They’ll be fine. Everyone just wants you torecover. Your agent is going to want a video call with you later tomorrow, so I’ll bring your laptop in here.”

He starts grinning like an idiot all of a sudden. It’s concerning.

“What?”

“You talked to Coach Barrett about me.”

“Yeah. So?”

“That’s a girlfriend thing. You’re my girlfriend.”

“Am I?”

“Oh yeah. As far as I’m concerned.” He grips my thigh. “What do you think?”

“I think I’ve been your girlfriend for a long time.”

“Yeah.” Craig leans forward, hooking his finger under my chin. “C’mere.”

I doc’mere, for a gentle kiss. “Don’t get excited, okay?”

He plants a soft, beautiful kiss on my mouth. “Not excited. Just happy. I love you, Bridget. I love you. I want you with me.”

“I love you, and I want you with me too. I’ll come with you to New York, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.” He takes a deep breath. Maybe that kiss was a little too much for him. “Mycontract is up in two years. I can ask them to trade me to Vancouver. We can be closer to Tommy and your mom and the Bradshaws. And Penny.”

Well, that was some pretty clear thinking. “Really? You can do that?”

“I can. Been thinking about this for a while. It’s not a guarantee. But I have leverage.”

“You would do that?”

“I want to. I love the Griffins, but I love you more.”

“I am definitely going to need a gusset for my heart so I can hold all the love I have for you.”

“Uh-oh,” he says, jerking his head back and staring into my eyes. “Say more. Sounds like you might need a trip to the ER…”

12

CRAIG

Two minutes and forty-two seconds until my girlfriend will take her shirt off.

We’re both staring at the timer on her phone as it counts down.

She’s opened the curtains and cracked the blinds so there’s a little more light streaming in. Enough for me to see what I need to see. Do what I need to do.

I’ve been prepping for this for hours. Not in the way I’d prep for a game. The opposite, really. I’ve been roaming around the house. Staying out of the kitchen, because Stitch needs good lighting in there to work. But I can go outside if it’s not sunny, which it isn’t today. The headache’s become a dull background presence. Sometimes I forget about itentirely, until I turn my head too quickly. I talked to Sawyer, who’d been texting every few hours since he heard the news. I had a call with my agent. I negotiated for one extra day in Kenton after a doctor at the hospital here clears me for takeoff.

But I’m restless. I have so much pent-up energy. So much tension that’s been building.

Normally I’d visualize. Obsessively, some might say, before a game. I imagine reading—tracking the puck, positioning, staying calm. Preparing my nervous system to respond correctly under pressure.

Visualizing what I’ve been waiting for would do the exact opposite of what I need right now. Spike my heart rate. My anticipation. My impatience. Everything that makes a goalie and a lover bad at his job.