35. Morgan

35

MORGAN

“This is incredible.” Mom spins in a slow circle, taking in the view from the spacious suite where we will be watching game seven in the championship series.

Games four, five, and six put all Ranchers and Crocs fans on a rollercoaster of emotions, alternating wins each game, defying home ice advantages, and giving each fan base hope that their team would be able to seal victory without needing an additional game.

Yet, here we are.

“Isn’t it?” Carlee says. “The Ranchers should take notes. The Crocs know what they’re doing.”

“The Crocs are an older team,” Carter points out. Behind him, Eli and the twins are scoping out the snack situation on the table by the door.

Valerie is nearby, watching Abby and Andy’s antics with a soft smile. Corey Johnson, Carlee’s fiancé, would be here if he could, but he has a game with the Lonestars tomorrow, and he couldn’t get away from Dallas.

The suite is filled with friends and family here to support Dane. Tonight will be the first time he hits the ice since his injury eleven days ago. It’s killed him not to be cleared to play for the other games in the series, but I was secretly glad.

It will be a long time before I’ll forget the terror I felt seeing him lying unmoving on the ice and then struggling to remain conscious in the medical room. I’m grateful the medical team didn’t clear him before he was ready, despite the pressure the hockey community was putting on them. The championship might’ve been on the line, but Dane’s health was more important.

Dane might not have agreed, but he listened to his doctor’s orders. He was only a little grouchy about it.

“And the Crocs have old money,” Dad states, his eyes surveying the scene his wife currently admires. “They used to be based in the Northeast. They can afford the nicest facilities.”

Mom and I share a quick smile. I don’t know what motivated Dad to overcome his reservations and agree to come to this game, but it means a lot that he’s here.

“You should see Minnesota’s arena,” Mr. Larson tells Dad. “It was renovated five years ago, and it’s top-notch.”

“Maybe next season,” Dad says. Inside, I’m beaming, but I keep my expression neutral so as not to make this a big deal.

“Maybe not,” Carter joins their conversation. “I don’t think the Ranchers will play Minnesota next year. Not unless they reach the playoffs again.”

“Which they will,” Mrs. Larson says. “I look forward to seeing my boy play in his home state. I know others will, too.”

“Are you disappointed that the trade fell through?” Mom asks Mrs. Larson.

The slender woman smiles sadly. “Selfishly, of course. But for Dane? No. He belongs in Dallas. I’m glad things worked out so he could stay.”

Me too.

The circumstances that led to Dane staying on the Ranchers have been discussed by sports news and media outlets nonstop since the news broke. Despite countless conversations where Dane explains the finer details of what happened, I still struggle to believe how it all went down.

Never in a million years did I think the Ranchers’ board would vote Vincent Gianni Jr. out as the team governor. He’s always been known as his father’s successor—ever since he was a teenager.

The details of what led the family-dominated board to fire Vincent in favor of his younger brother, Leo, are a mystery, but the gist is that Vincent Jr.’s threat to trade Dane went against the board’s wishes.

Vincent Gianni Sr. acquired Dane for the team with the hope of him becoming the face of the Ranchers. A role Dane has played perfectly in the years he’s been with the team. When Vincent Jr. tried to take matters into his own hands and dangle the threat of a trade over Dane’s head, the board had enough. I gather that it wasn’t the only time the entitled son went against the wishes of the entire organization.

Not much is known about Leo Gianni. The new team governor has lived in Chicago for the last decade, running the family business there. Some say he runs the illicit part of the family business, i.e. dealings with the Italian mob and other criminal organizations. But that’s all speculation. And rumor.

Though, based on the recent photograph of the striking Italian man in a dark, designer suit walking down Chicago’s busy streets, he certainly looks dangerous enough to have dealings with the mob.

You read too many mafia romances.

I blame Carlee for my wild imagination.

My best friend is an avid romance reader. Recently, she’s been on a mafia romance kick. After she’s done with one, she lends it to me, insisting I read it. The stories aren’t bad. In fact, they’re pretty entertaining. And sexy. I’m not ashamed to admit I pounced on Dane one night after reading a particularly spicy scene, much to his amusement and satisfaction.

But those are just stories. Leo Gianni isn’t a mob boss. He’s the son of a billionaire. And now, he’s going to be the face of the hockey team where my boyfriend will play for the rest of his career.

Happiness warms my chest.

Dane isn’t moving. He doesn’t have to give up his dream. And he’s overcome a dangerous injury and is able to play in a game that will determine this year’s NHL champion.

Things are working out for us, and I make it a point to thank God every day for how everything has turned out

Dane skates around the ice below, warming up with the rest of the team. His helmet is new. It’s designed to withstand extra impact, and there’s additional material that hugs his skull, adding another layer of protection following his recent injury.

All players should wear that sort of helmet. It may be bulkier than what they’re used to, but it’s better to learn how to play with a heavier helmet than risk brain damage. Hockey has always been a physical sport. It’s never bothered me to watch the aggressive play, not until Dane got hurt. Now, I cringe every time I see a player get checked into the wall or fall to the hard ice.

I’ve done my best to hide it from Dane, but I’m worried about watching him play. I’m not the only one. His family, including Eli, all wore uneasy expressions when Dane shared that he’d been cleared to play in tonight’s game.

We’re all happy for Dane. We know how much this means to him. But as people who love him, it’s impossible not to worry.

Love.

It’s still crazy to me how much I love the blond, blue-eyed man who laughs and jokes around as he and his teammates take turns passing the puck back and forth.

Dane Larson is everything I never knew I needed. He doesn’t play games—he never has. He’s been open and honest about how he feels about me, actively pursuing me and making me feel like the most incredible woman in the world.

He supports my dreams and encourages me to take risks. He believes I can create something great that supports female athletes’ nutrition and non-athletes as well. He listens to me passionately discuss all I hope to accomplish with enthusiasm.

He’s incredible.

And he’s mine.

“I think I can guess what you’re thinking about.”

I turn and see Carlee grinning at me knowingly. My parents and Dane’s parents have moved into the kitchenette in the suite, enjoying a pre-game snack.

I smile. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“You’re happy.” My best friend’s eyes fill with warmth. “And you’re nervous about Dane.”

I chuckle softly. “You nailed it.”

Carlee wraps her arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “Dane is tough and smart. He’s going to be fine.”

“He better be. I won’t ever let him play again if he gets hurt.”

Carlee laughs. “It’s fun seeing this side of you.”

“What side of me?”

“The soft side.” She smiles. “The lovey-dovey side.”

I snort. “Lovey-dovey?”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

I look out at the ice and though Dane is so far away, I swear he’s looking up at where I stand at the suite’s railing. My suspicions are confirmed when he lifts a gloved hand and waves.

People in the rows between us look back to see who he’s looking at, but I ignore them and lift a hand and wave back, wearing a stupidly wide smile.

Dane’s smile matches mine. Then, he blows me a dramatic kiss, causing excited chatter to spread through the watching fans.

I chuckle and shake my head.

Dane continues to stare at me. He does the dramatic air kiss again, flinging his arm wide.

Knowing he won’t stop until I do what he wants, I kiss my fingers and make a show of blowing it towards him.

Dane clutches his chest and pretends to stumble back, earning awws and laughs from the watching crowd.

Cam skates up to him from the net and pretends to smack the back of his head, earning another round of laughter. Dane finally stops his antics and resumes his warm-up, but not before sending one last loaded look my way.

The way this man pursues me is beyond anything I ever could have imagined, and it never fails to send butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“See what I mean?” Carlee laughs. “Lovey-dovey.”

“Yeah,” I sigh happily, watching the man who’s quickly become one of the most important people in my life prepare to play in the biggest game of his. “I guess I am.”

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.