Page 56 of Tripped Up

But she’s smiling. I don’t think she’s nearly as put out as she’s pretending.

Vancouver has the puck in the Austin zone, but no matter how many times they set up formation, they can’t drive the puck home. The time on the penalty runs down, and then Wyatt is freed right as Viggy clears the puck, and he’s able to pick it up on his stick. Murdock is quick behind him, and then it’s a two-on-one against the lone Vancouver defenseman.

Wyatt passes to Murdock.

Murdock passes back.

And then Wyatt snipes a bullet past the Vancouver goalie.

The lamp lights up.

Three-zero, Austin.

I’m on my feet, screaming, as the bench in front of me erupts into cheers.

Murdock ducks to pick up the puck, flipping it to Wyatt. It’s his first with the team. He’s more of a brawler than a goal scorer, but I can’t deny the happiness lighting his face. Even though he’s more than a fighter, I think sometimes he gets stuck in that mentality, always on the hunt for a scrap.

I need to show Wyatt there’s more to life than fighting. More to us than fighting.

He zooms past the bench for the post-goal celly, then takes his place on the bench. Jabari, the trainer, holds his hand out for the puck.

But Wyatt shakes his head. He makes eye contact with me and points.

“What?” I shout. “You scored. Yay.”

He smirks at me, his ice-blue eyes bright. Henry turns around to see what the fuss is about and grins.

Wyatt flips the puck over the glass. Bex snatches it out of midair and he shakes his head, pointing to me.

With a knowing smile, my best friend hands over the puck, and I clutch my prize, staring at him.

“What are you doing?” I shout at him.

He grins. “Keep that safe for me, babe.”

Bex elbows me. “He called you babe.”

“Shut up.” I elbow her back.

But I can’t deny it feels good, like a warm glow enveloping me in a hug. I don’t know what’s going on between us, but there’s definitely something there. Could he really have remembered all this time?

twenty

Wyatt

“Dude, you’re on fire,” Viggy says, clapping me on the shoulder.

“Fuck, yeah,” Henry chimes in.

My natural inclination is to brush off their compliments, because I’m simply doing my job, which is ridiculous because I fucking killed it out there.

“Drinks on me,” I call out to the guys. “Who’s coming to O’Malley’s?”

Cheers echo throughout the locker room.

“So I’m just going to ask,” Puppy says. “Who’s the ginger?”

I glare at him. “You keep your hands off my sister.”