Page 196 of Secret Obsession
But if I can just jumpstart my career, I can sweep her away. We can do anything we want. I don’t know if she has a preference where we live, but I’m sure she can get a job wherever we end up. Or she can build her own empire.
Or she can just take up hobbies, like singing. Forever and ever.
After I warm up, I head back to the crease. BJ trades places with me, sweat already lining his brow. Good fucking thing he’s not playing tonight—I have a feeling he’d choke on our big playoffs’ night.
I have to be perfect.
Not just for the Crown Point Hawks, but for Willow. Some little part of me wants to impress her family, so they know that I’m going to take care of her forever.
I laser in on Knox, who skates forward with a puck. He’s the easiest and the hardest to read, because his micro-movements are sometimes misleading. A fake there, a true slice here. He’s been known to get some past me—but most of the time, he’s got nothing on me.
He shoots, and I catch it in my glove.
Easy-peasy.
I drop it and focus on the next. Then again. After a few minutes of that, I straighten and get out of the way. It opens the floodgates for shooting, our whole team moving in rows to take shots at the goal.
“You good?” I ask BJ, stopping beside him.
He’s getting greener. “I’m glad you’re playing,” he mumbles.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, me, too, with that fucking attitude.”
I step off the ice and head back to the locker room. He follows, and I pull off my helmet. Greyson and Finch are already in the locker room, and Tony Rodrigues is close behind. There’s a new energy tonight, one that’s been lacking in the last few games. It doesn’t matter that my doctors warned me about continuing to play and further concussions.
An excitement buzzes through us.
I take a seat in front of my cubby and watch Greyson and Finch fake spar. I know by now that Greyson’s just trying to keep Finch’s mind off shit. He, like BJ, is an occasional worrier. He’ll make a great forward on a professional team one day, if he even goes that route.
Hell, maybe he’ll decide that it isn’t for him, and we’ll see him coaching the future stars.
Or not.
Knox emerges, and I avoid his gaze. He always looks at me first now, testing the waters. Waiting for me to break.
Mom wants me to forgive him so fucking badly, and of course they’re here tonight. I just don’t have it in me. Maybe eventually, but definitely not right now. He took care of Freeman’s body for us as an apology. And he’s actually said the wordsI’m sorryon numerous occasions.
It’s just not enough when my trust in him is so broken.
And then it’s game time. I glance at Willow when the girl singing the national anthem hits a relatively dour note, and she gives me a tiny smile in return.
Did she tell her parents about that? How exhilarating it was to sing in front of thousands of people and have them all cheer and scream for her once she finished?
If she didn’t, I will. I’ll brag about her all fucking day.
The game begins, and I push Willow out of my mind as much as I can. Let’s be real, she’s always there, floating in the back. But I put the weight of my attention on the players in front of me. And they come crashing down into our zone first, my defensemen circling the coal and blocking players. A rogue opponent parks himself right in front of me.
I shove him away. Fucker.
I slam to the side and block a low shot. The puck slams into my left leg’s pad and ricochets off, collected by Steele and shot up the left side of the rink. The player is still in my space, seeming to linger.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I snap, using my stick to propel him backward. “You think we’re dating or something? Stage five clinger?”
He shakes his head.
We have the puck, and he’s got to follow, or the whistle will be blown. Would hate to be caught offside.
Asshole.
