Page 235 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“Fuck, yeah, we are.”

“You so are.”

“Hails, I lo—” He cuts himself off as my heart lurches in my throat. “I can’t wait to get home to you tonight.”

“I can’t wait either. I’ll be waiting, wearing nothing but your jersey.”

“Goddamn,” he groans.

“You need to go,” I tell him, aware that we’ve already been on the phone too long.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll call you later.”

“I’ll be watching you, baby. Listen hard enough and you’ll hear me screaming your name.”

“Later on tonight, I’ll be hearing it even louder.”

The Blaze win the first puck drop, and it’s like that sets the tone for the game, because the Vipers are immediately on the back foot, and they struggle to get the upper hand, even when they get hold of the puck.

It’s incredibly frustrating, especially coming off the back of some amazing wins. My stomach is in knots every time Hayden jumps the boards for a shift. He’s so desperate to prove himself, to show the world that he’s good enough to be up there as Rett’s partner. I want it just as badly for him. He’s living out a dream right now, and I really don’t want the experience to be tainted by a loss.

“Oh,” I cry, jumping to my feet as one of the Blaze’s wingers collides with Hayden.

My heart is racing a million miles a minute. My stomach so tight it hurts; my anxiety through the roof. I’ve watched hundreds of hockey games since securing this position, but I’ve never felt like I do right now. My breathing is so labored, anyone would think I’ve just come off a shift.

Thankfully, Hayden hops back up as if nothing happened and races toward the crease, ready to protect the net.

But he’s a second too late, and the puck hits the back of the net. The home crowd roars as their team celebrates. I don’t watch them, though. My eyes are on Hayden; his head is lowered in defeat. Rett sees it and skates closer as they head to the boards. He grabs Hayden’s shoulder and says something to him.

Without getting a good view of his mouth, I don’t stand a chance of reading what he says. But whatever it is, it perks Hayden up a little before he grabs his drink and hits the bench for a rest.

“Fucking hell,” I groan, sinking back onto the couch to catch my breath.

My reprieve only lasts a minute at best, because he’s back out there. Being a goal down really lights a fire under our asses, and they push back harder, thankfully levelling the score in only thirty seconds after winning the second puck drop.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I scream, hopping up and down in excitement.

The next time Hayden is on shift, he blocks two incredible shots, sending the puck down to Kodie, who makes two unsuccessful shots on goal.

“Come on, you’ve got this,” I say, taking a sip of my water, my ass right on the edge of the seat.

We’re only ten minutes into the game, and I’m sweating. I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through to the end. I’m fucked if it goes into overtime. I think I might go into cardiac arrest before then.

“You’ve got this, baby,” I say, rubbing my hands together as he and Rett jump back in. “Let’s end this period with a goal.”

We lose the next puck drop, and the Blaze winger takes off, ready to take his shot and reclaim their lead.

My fingers curl around my couch cushion as Hayden tracks their movement, getting ready to intercept. The winger diverts, but Hayden sees it coming, and he manages to steal the puck. He takes off like a rocket, and he’s over the blue line.

He’s got an open shot on goal; he knows it, too.

“Oh my god,” I gasp as he pulls his stick back. “Come on, baby.”

He sends the puck careening toward the net, but I don’t see if it hits its mark or not, because one of the Blaze’s D-men appears out of nowhere with his stick in the air, colliding with Hayden.

“No,” I scream, on my feet before my man has even hit the ice.

I watch in horror as the ice turns red with blood, and my heart sinks into my feet.