Page 72 of Over the Line

Fuck. Not ideal.

Grinding my teeth and fuming, I stepped out of the box and headed for the bench. Great. We’d had a somewhat comfortable lead, and thanks to a garbage penalty, that lead had shrunk to one goal.

That kind of thing could seriously shift things into the other team’s favor. We could get discouraged at the same time they were energized, and the next thing we knew, we’d be on the wrong end of a 5-6 score.

Apparently that wasn’t happening tonight, though.

Seconds after I’d won the faceoff at center ice, Chris charged into the offensive zone. He danced around a forward and split the D as if they weren’t even there. Temo and I were closing in, both of us ready to accept a pass if he got tangled up.

Turned out he didn’t need us—one beautiful backhand later, and we once again had a two-goal lead.

Chris shouted with glee and pumped his fist.

“Nice one!” I smacked his helmet. “Way to go!”

He met my gaze and smiled, looking a little starstruck like he still sometimes did whenever I said anything to him.

“You’re killing it, kid.” I clapped his shoulder and steered him toward the bench for fist bumps. “Keep it up!”

His smile lit up the whole arena.

You look just like your dad when you smile like that.

Oh, fuck. I nearly stumbled. That was not a train of thought I needed to be on tonight. Or ever. Garrett was not someone I needed to be thinking about while I was on the ice. Especially not if it was going to take a high stick to the face to get my concentration back on the rails when I did think about him.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to concentrate much longer tonight. The second line went out while mine took a breather, and Coach sent the third out to finish off the final minute.

Then it was over. We’d successfully broken our losing streak and battered Kansas City for two delicious points.

The mood in the locker room was electric. Everyone was flying high after what felt like a long overdue win, and Coach gave us an awesome speech encouraging us to keep it going. Chris got some stick taps for his two goals and for beating the shit out of the punk who’d slashed Barns. Barns promised he’d buy him dinner on the next road trip, and he’d be good for it, too.

We did our media availability, showered, changed, ate, and were still on cloud nine when the families came in. Kids ran to dads and “uncles.” My teammates, now dressed down in sweats and hoodies, cradled their babies and hugged their bigger kids. It was always cute to see, especially with some of the guys who’d practically been kids themselves when they’d become teammates. Craws hadn’t even met Hannah when he’d signed with Pittsburgh. Now they had two kids. Seriously adorable family. Barns had been with his wife since they were fifteen, and he’d signed with Pittsburgh ten years ago, just after they’d had their first baby. Now they had a ten-year-old, an eight-year-old, and four-year-old twins.

And there was Chris, who’d met Jasmine his rookie season in the minors. Now they were having a baby.

Watching my teammates go from young men starstruck by their own peers to veteran players with their own families would seriously never get old.

I smiled to myself as I watched them all interacting. It was always a sweet sight, but there was a melancholy undercurrent to it, too.

When was the last time someone had been in this locker room for me?

Yeah, that was a depressing train of thought. Time to go home and get some sleep. Maybe the drive would clear my head like it sometimes did.

I said goodbye to a few of the guys, made sure I had my wallet, phone, and keys, and slipped out of the locker room.

And damn near collided with Garrett.

“Oh.” I halted, my dress shoe scuffing on the concrete floor. “I—sorry.”

“No, no, I was in your way.” He stepped aside, murmuring an apology, but his gaze never left mine. And there was nothing apologetic about the way he was looking at me. Nervous and caught off-guard, sure, but his eyes were full of the same fire burning in my chest right then.

The impulse to close the distance between us almost made me waver on my feet.

Why am I going home to an empty bed instead of somewhere with you?

My brain tried to rattle off all the reasons I’d told myself, then him, then myself again, but they were muted behind my pounding pulse.

“That, uh…” He swallowed. “That was a great game.” He smiled, his nerves on full display. “Congrats on the win.”