Page 136 of The Risk Taker

I have a boyfriend.

I clear my throat, trying not to look as flustered as I feel. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There are probably hundreds of people applying and half of them are definitely better than me.”

He tuts, shaking his head like I’ve offended him personally. “Hayes, Hayes, Hayes… always the pessimist.” He leans in, bumping his nose against mine. “You’re unbelievably talented, and I believe in you even when you don’t.”

My heart trips over itself. It feels stupid to think, but sometimes it really does feel like it only beats for him.

I don’t know when it happened, when he became the center of everything. When his laugh started sounding like home to me.When his hands on me started feeling like the only thing that’s ever made sense.

But I do know I love him. So much it makes my chest ache in the best way. I’d give anything to freeze this moment. To just stay in this bed with him.

“Thank you,” I say, brushing a hand through his damp hair. “For pushing me to follow my dreams.”

He cups my face, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone, gentle in a way that makes my throat go tight. “I just want you to be happy, baby.”

“I am,” I tell him, feeling it all the way down to my ribs. “With you.”

36

LOGAN

Practice feels normal.

At least that’s what I keep trying to convince myself of as I loop the ice behind Nathan, watching the way his skates cut clean lines across the rink like he’s not about to flip my entire world inside out today.

The rink looks the same. Sounds the same. Coach barking out instructions, Austin talking way too loudly for it being seven in the goddamn morning, a couple of the rookies wheezing through warm-ups like they’re ninety. Same old Colton U bullshit.

But all I can focus on is the fact that Nathan is planning to tell the team about us today.

When we came home from the bar on Saturday and he told me he wanted to tell everyone, I honestly thought he meant sometime in the distant future, like a week or two, maybe after he had time to mentally prepare and process everything that would come with it. But nope. He woke up this morning—in my bed, of course—and casually announced he was going to tell everyone today. The team. His sister. His parents.

It was maybe the first time in my life I’ve ever been truly speechless, and my skin has been buzzing ever since. It feels likea dream I’ve had a hundred times, but never let myself believe would actually come true, and that thought alone is enough to make my stomach flip.

I try not to grin like an idiot as I drop into a ready stance, stick angled toward center ice. Across from me, Austin gives me this obnoxious smirk, the kind that says he knows something’s up even if he doesn’t.

“You good there, Rookie?” he calls out, cocky as hell.

I flick a puck at him and raise a brow. “Worried I’m about to score on your ass again?”

“Please.” He scoffs so obnoxiously, it makes me want to smack him with my stick. “You couldn’t score on me if I stood still and handed you a fucking map.”

Before I can fire something else back, Coach blows his whistle, and we break into drills.

I pivot on my blades and pass to Ryan before cutting across the slot. He sends it flying back to me and I flick the puck low toward the post. It slips right under his pad and I can’t help the smug grin that hits my face.

Nathan shakes his head behind the mask like he’s unimpressed, but I catch the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth.

I lose track of time as we continue the drills until Coach finally blows the whistle again and calls it.

We trail off the ice and I yank my helmet off and rake a hand through my damp hair, trying to shake it out of my eyes.

Austin slings an arm around my neck the second we step off the ice. “You were awful smiley today,” he says, flashing me a grin. “You got laid, didn’t you?”

I roll my eyes and shove him off me.

He laughs and jogs ahead toward the locker room. I glance over my shoulder at Nathan walking just behind me, chest stillrising with each breath, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. His eyes catch mine, and for a second I stop breathing.

Fuck.