Page 122 of Crease Collision

For a second, it’s the best moment of my life. Then I look at Ozzy, and the other half of it lands. His back is to me, his head down and shoulders slumped. He thought they had this. We’re trying to take away his chance, and I’m doing everything I can to make it happen. I want to play for the Laurentian Cup so much I can taste it.

If only we could win without crushing his dream.

With a minute left in the game, their coach pulls Ozzy for an extra attacker. They pin us in our zone, and I block shot after fucking shot. Even then, I sneak a look at the Fury’s bench, where Ozzy’s standing with his helmet off, drying his head with a towel.

Focus on the game.

I stop one more shot before the final horn blows. Gloves and sticks fly into the air, our guys pour over the boards, and Noah throws his arms around my neck.

“We did it,” he yells. “We’re going to play for the Cup.”

I celebrate with my teammates for a moment, but then I look over at the Fury bench. Ozzy’s sitting with his head in his hands.

No stick, no salute. He can’t see me, and even if he could, he has nothing to raise.

When we meet in the handshake line, his eyes are red-rimmed but clear. He nods, and I pull him in and slap his back hard, the way you do in a line of men, half of them heartbroken and the other half overjoyed.

“I’m sorry, Ozzy,” I say into his ear. “Tell me you’ll be at my place when I get there.”

He pulls away. “Congratulations.” His voice doesn’t break, which feels worse than if it had. “I will be there.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

OSKAR

I’m so warm I’m practically fused to the sheets. A sliver of daylight cuts between the drapes, but I squeeze my eyes shut because sleep is still calling my name. Except… what is that tickling my belly?

The unmistakable sound of Kai’s purr-like snore reaches my ears, so I crack one eye open. He’s not there. But I feel one of his legs tangled with mine, and then… Fan! Another tickle on my stomach.

I lift the comforter, and there he is, the lower half of his body pressed against mine, his head resting on my chest. Another little snore rumbles against my skin. Another tickle.

“Fan också!” I can’t help laughing. “Kai!”

I have to shake his shoulder hard to wake him up.

“The fuck?” His voice is muffled against my chest. He shifts around before lifting his head. “What’s going on?”

“You’re snoring on my chest and tickling my stomach with your morning breath.”

“Makes no sense.”

“It does because when the air comes out of your mouth… never mind. Get up here.”

Once he’s in my arms and we’ve exchanged a proper good morning kiss, I glance at the clock. “Oh my God, it’s eleven o’clock.”

He gives me the first smirk of the day. “I’ll call the reporters.”

Laughing, I roll on top of him. “Why are we sleeping so late?”

“Because we’re exhausted. But since you’re already on top of me, want to play a game before we get up?”

I shake my head. “You’re insatiable. We did it twice last night and again at about four a.m. I need food and a little recovery time.”

His dramatic sigh would be more convincing if he didn’t look half-dead. “Spoilsport. Have to admit I’m hungry too. Will you make some of those scrambled eggs I like? There’s smoked salmon in the fridge.”

“Let’s go.” I roll off him, then stop and trace my fingers over a dark bruise on his chest. “This one’s getting bigger. We’ll put some of that stuff on it after we shower.”

“We’re both nothing but big bruised bodies,” he says, yawning. “Better buy more of that stuff this afternoon.”