Chapter 48

Forty-Eight

EMORY

"What do you all have to say for yourselves?" Coach Jacobs is leaning against his office door with an unreadable expression on his face. It's hard to know what he's thinking, especially because I haven't been with this team for that long.

He's a stoic kind of coach. The kind that likes to stew on his speeches before laying into us, but in my opinion, even though we were defeated, I don't think it was a total loss.

I stand from my bench, and the entire team turns to look at me.

"I'm not going to speak on behalf of the team," I start. "But with our captain already gone, I'm going to take the initiative."

Rhodes dipped out the moment we stepped off the ice, likely knowing that it'd be a while before we were able to head home due to this moment right here. One of the reasons Rhodes is on this team is because Coach never puts limitations on him when it comes to his daughter and putting her first.

"Well, go on," Coach barks.

I look him dead in the face with confidence. "I don't think it was a total loss."

His eyebrows dip.

"For the first time since the season started"—I spin my attention around the locker room at my teammates' red faces and sweaty hair—"we acted like a team."

Someone makes a ridiculous noise, and a few copy him.

"One of the guys"—I look directly at Kane, who is seemingly fuming on the bench from the loss—"got himself into a fight, and instead of letting him take a punch to the face, you all swooped in and fought alongside him."

It's the same thing I was explaining to Scottie. When a team is truly a team, they work together. It's one of the oldest fucking bylaws in hockey. They fight, we fight. They go down, we go down. It's called being a team.

"Sure." I shrug. "It wasn't about the winning puck or the last block. It had nothing to do with the actual game, but we fucking worked together for the first time since I joined this team." I look back at Coach. "Have you ever sat and watched the teams at the top of the league and looked outside the box? They work together, on and off the ice." I point at him. "That's important."

I feel myself becoming way too involved in the team talk. My heart beats, and a passion I didn't realize I held grounds me to keep going.

"My last team fucked me over," I admit. "I took the fall for something I had nothing to do with, and not a single one of my teammates batted an eye. It landed me with one option." I glance around at all the blue on the walls. "Here."

I plop back down onto the bench and lean against my locker.

"And I'm fucking proud. I'm proud to be on a team that has each other's backs, and coming together like that on the ice means one thing." I stare at Coach Jacobs, and I'm surprised to see pride instead of anger. "We're fucking unstoppable now."

The locker room erupts in chaos. My teammates clap and howl like idiots, but it's obvious they all agree.

Coach nods at me before turning and slamming his office door.

Pride swells in my chest.

Things are falling into place, and the only person I can seem to think of is Scottie.

And that has nothing to do with the fact that River was running his mouth about her.

The anger and resentment I'd been carrying around since last spring has faded, and I hadn't even realized it until this moment.

I feel content, and that feeling drives even deeper when I slip my ring back onto my finger and turn to head home to my mouthy, beautiful wife who is teaching me more about myself than I ever knew.

Shutter eyes me lazily in his makeshift bed that Scottie made him on the porch, out of my old T-shirts.

The house is quiet when I open the door.

The lights are off beside the faint glow from the kitchen.

There's something in the middle of the island, and when I get closer, I see a note written in feminine handwriting.

I warmed up the leftovers from the dinner your mom made after dropping them off at the airport.

It's in the microwave.

xo

I open the microwave and smile to myself. Look at her, being all wife-like without even being forced to do it. After shutting the microwave because suddenly I'm hungry for something else, I look into the living room. I expect her to be lying there, pretending to be asleep like she usually is after a game, but the couch is empty.

I casually walk over to the stairs and head up them, bypassing my bedroom and heading straight for the guest room.

If she thinks she's going back to sleeping in a separate room from me, she's out of her fucking mind. I'm already prepared to plead with her and make promises of not touching her—that I don't want to keep—when I push open the guest door and see an empty bed with the bedding stripped.

I stare down the hall.

The thumping of my pulse quickens with each step toward my bedroom. When I step inside, I already know she's in here without even laying eyes on her.

I feel her before I see her.

My heart fucking races when I see that she's in my bed. Her quiet body is covered, and unlike last night, she isn't on the edge of the mattress.

I don't waste a single second.

I brush my teeth and strip off my shirt. I climb into bed with my chest tight and my muscles begging to touch her. She exhales softly, and although I want nothing more than to pull her in close and kiss her senseless, I don't. I stay on my side of the mattress and decide to give her the reins.

If she wants to find me in her sleep, then I'll be here waiting.

There's a hushed voice in the back of my head that I can't seem to hide from, and although it's hard for me to wrap my head around, I listen to it.

I'll wait forever for Scottie.

I told her before this whole thing started that I wouldn't lose.

I didn't realize it at the time, but that statement had a double meaning: I don't want to lose her, and I'm not even sure I really have her.