Page 91 of Goalie Interference

Well, that fucking sucked. I know I said I was glad my team was getting tested, but I never meant for us to lose. And I definitely didn’t mean for us to lose because of me—the same way we lost the cup last season.

“It’s not your fault,” Ryan says as he pats my helmet with his glove.

“Kennedy in overtime is the worst,” Danton says.

“You mean the best,” Brandon says, deadpan.

He’s not wrong.

“Shake it off,” Coach Chris says to me as I walk past him down the tunnel. “We’ll get ’em next time.”

He’s right. We will. This is just one loss. They happen.

Besides, I already have plans tonight that will take my mind off it. Fucking Ander into my mattress is sure to take the sting out of losing.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Nikolai

“We can’t lie in bed all day,” Ander says, making no attempt to get out of bed. In fact, he rolls himself over onto his stomach and drapes his arm across my bare chest. Together we come down, sated in our post orgasm bliss.

I run my hand across his upper back, enjoying the way his broad muscles feel under my palms. “I like it right here.”

“I do, too.” He sighs across my chest and my eyes begin to close. “So you’re not upset we’re both missing the all-star game?”

“Not at all,” I say, smiling sleepily. While I would have liked to have been invited for the first time in my career, this is better. Since neither Ander nor I were chosen, we decided to take advantage of the opportunity for a little getaway in.

“Do you still want to watch the game tonight?”

“Yes. I cannot miss Baby’s all-star debut.”

“Me neither.” I can feel Ander’s smile against my chest. “At first I was bummed I wasn’t going to be there to play against him.” His arm squeezes me tighter. “But this is better.”

“There will be other games,” I tell him. And there will be. “Even games where maybe you play on same team.”

“But never a game where you and I do,” he says, his voice laced with disappointment.

“Probably not.” I run my hand across his shoulders again.

“We’re always destined to play against each other.”

“You could switch positions?” I press my lips together to keep myself from laughing as I know exactly how he’s going to respond to that suggestion.

“Hell, no!” He lifts his head up and narrows his eyes at me. “You switch positions.”

I hold his gaze and shake my head at him. “That will not happen. We shall remain enemies.”

He cranes his neck and kisses me. “Some enemies we make.”

“It is very clear we hate each other.”

“The league hasn’t seen two players who hate each other this much since Gavin and Connor.”

“And we know how that turned out,” I say. It’s been a year since that all happened and already so much has changed. Their relationship shook up the trajectory of three franchises, the Mules perhaps most profoundly. We went from being a nothing team to serious contenders. And right now, I’m on a crash course to playing for the cup against the man falling back asleep on my chest.

Had anyone told me as I watched this man lift the Stanley Cup at the end of last season that we’d be sharing a bed in Cabo nine months later, I never in a million seasons would have believed them. Not even just then, but any point in my life. I’ve always believed a life like this was never on the cards for me.

I have never been more thrilled to be proven wrong in my life.