Page 64 of All In: The Price We Pay

“You’ll get it. I’m curious to see what’s in it for me.” I trace my fingers back across his chest, trying to feel his nipples through the fabric.

But before I can get my hands on him, his phone vibrates, and, much to my disappointment, he answers it.

Parker has to work. He immediately leans over his tablet and is absorbed in his conversation.

From where I’m sitting, I watch him while I eat the exact same breakfast I have on every game day. I love him, but he doesn’t need to know every secret about me.

I stop abruptly. I love him. I know that, of course, but the thought has never formed so clearly in my mind before.

And this is mere hours before one of the most important games of my life. We can secure a spot in the playoffs, earn an excellent seeding, and I can break my personal record.

There’s the realization that I love Parker, but I have to brush it aside when I head to the arena.

Exactly as I told him, I meticulously go through my routine in the locker room in the correct order. Starting with putting on my gear, taping my stick, and warming up in the right direction on the ice.

I check if Valentina’s here today, but I can’t see her. Or maybe she’s coming later. The other times she’s been at the arena early. As a movie star, she obviously doesn’t have a routine.

Despite my thorough preparation, the game is a grind. Vancouver’s goalie has the net locked down. Blake and Sid are giving it their all on my line, but even in the second period, we’re still up only one to zero. The game threatens to turn into a typical defensive mess. None of us wants to risk the playoffs. Still, it annoys me that we’re under so much pressure in a home game.

And I still haven’t scored that goal I promised Parker.

Finally, we’ve got the puck deep in our opponent’s zone. It slides along the boards, gets lost, and I hear the coach yelling, “Change, change!”

Damn. But the line change will do us good. There’s still time for my goal. After one last glance at the puck, Sid, Blake, and I turn at the same time, jumping over the boards as the next line lands on the ice. They’re straight in the thick of the action, and right as I sit, a goal is scored. The siren sounds and our song plays. On the bench we jump up and cheer, tapping the ends of our sticks against the boards.

My gaze turns to the coach. I want to get back on the ice. But he doesn’t call for a line change. Understandable. It’s only been seconds since the last one.

Still, there’s this tingle of excitement inside me.

I turn back to the ice. Valor charges through Vancouver’s defense. Only a stick between his legs stops him. The whistle blows immediately, and Foux, a Vancouver defenseman, heads to the bench in protest.

This finally gives us a chance for a power play. Coach Denner reacts immediately and shuffles the lines again. Blake, Sid, and I jump onto the ice.

We’re going to make the most of these two minutes.

The seconds are ticking away, and sheer willpower alone won’t get us there. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sid, who has made a brilliant run into an open space. I pass the puck to him across the ice; he stops it, takes it on his blade, and drops it between his opponent’s arm and stick. He makes a sharp turn and circles around him, immediately picking up the puck again. The kid is a genius. By now, a second defenseman is on him. Instead of going straight for the goal, he passes the puck back to me. I’m wide open and, without pausing, blast the puck into the net. My goal.

With my fist raised in the air, I let out a cheer, but I remember my promise. I kiss the end of my stick and hold it aloft. People can interpret that however they want. No one knows that this kiss is for Parker.

I hope he’s watching the game.

We win three to one. The score appears more decisive than it feels. I, for one, am exhausted.

We’re celebrating in the locker room, but we’re all aware that the next game is in two days. No one is going to risk the next one being that close again.

After the cool-down, changing, and showering, I dare to glance at my phone. But instead of the expected message from Parker, I see one from Valentina.

Can we meet up? We need to talk.

Her request throws me off, so I reply immediately. When? The game just ended. I want to go see Parker, but Valentina’s message is unusual.

I know. It’s urgent. You have to eat something, anyway. Come to my place in Greenwich. I’ve got something there.

The last thing I want to do right now is drive all the way across town in the wrong direction.

Please, she adds afterward.

Okay.