Chapter 39

Coleson

The events of the day have been a lot.

I honestly don’t know or even understand who would want to send a girl to my room. I’m sure it was someone on the team, probably Andrews since he already hates me for what his best friend’s wife and I did, but also because I got called up over him. I don’t want to think that way, though. I don’t want to give him any more of my energy than he has already stolen. It’s bad enough I have to deal with him on a regular basis when I play; I don’t want him to ruin this moment for me. The moment I step onto the ice as a Nashville Assassin.

I hate that I’m tired. I was only able to nap for maybe thirty minutes between my racing thoughts concerning my wife. I told her she needed to raise her standards when it came to my asking her to be mine forever. However, I’m surprised I didn’t just scream it in her face after how she handled the situation with my apparent “afternoon entertainment.” I don’t know how she is so amazing. Her confidence is beautiful, and her sunshiny personality makes me grin so hard I know my dimples are on display. I can feel them.

I always knew she wasn’t my mom; no one could be as completely vile as that woman. That’s not what kept me from committing to Eliza fully. It may have started that way, but now, it’s that she’s too damn good for me. Thinking that, though, I can’t help but understand it’s not true anymore.

She is too good for the guy I used to be. But the man I am with her may just deserve her. Fuck, I want to deserve her. I want to wake up with her in my arms. To watch her grin at me. Have her bitch at me for making a mess. I want to be on the receiving end of a love I never thought I’d have. A love I thought didn’t exist. At least, not for me.

I want to replace the old memories of a loveless life with new ones full of all the love.

Love only Eliza can give me.

I swallow thickly as that realization explodes inside my body. Instead of rushing out of the locker room to find where she is, I retape my stick for the third time. My thoughts and hopes will have to wait till after the game. Not that I think I can make it up to where my wife is sitting anyway. I’m shaking everywhere. I’m scared out of my mind, and I hope I don’t fuck this up.

I look around at all the guys I’ve followed for the last few years. Boon Hoenes, the captain Aiden Brooks, Flynn Anderson, Wes McMillan, Dimitri Titov, and my old teammate, Ciaran Carter. Everyone is getting ready and is focused on their game. Meanwhile, I’m focusing on not puking up the contents of my stomach.

I shake my head. This isn’t me. I want this. I want to be on this ice. My wife is here to watch me. I have to show off for her. I have to gain a spot somewhere so that no one can bother Eliza and me.

Because I’m keeping my wife forever.

And then some.

Confidence blooms inside me as I finally get my tape how I want. I start putting on my gear, careful of my burning ribs that are black and purple today. Ha, even my skin matches the Assassins’ colors. I obviously belong here. I chuckle at myself as I finish putting on my gear. Once I’m ready, I stand up and squat down, repeating the motion seven times. I then hop once from the squatting position. As my wife said, I’m a creature of habit, and I’ve got some quirks, for sure. The coach of the Assassins comes in to do his pregame speech. When he announces me, I’m surprised, but then a warmth spreads deep within when everyone welcomes me once more.

“Katz will hit the ice first, and then let’s get two points, boys!”

Everyone grunts in agreement, high-fiving one another. And I’m not gonna lie. I geek out a bit when Aiden Brooks high-fives me like we’re cool. Excitement courses through me as I head down the hall that leads to the ice. I’ve done this many times in the Knoxville arena, but already, I know this is different. The air is full of electricity, the chant of “Let’s Go Assassins!” clap, clap, clap-clap-clap is already loud and clear from the fans, and I do everything in my power to ignore the nervousness in my gut.

When the nod comes from the bench attendant, I take off onto the ice, and the crowd cheers me on as I do my lap to welcome myself to the NHL. I think it’s special that the organization does this for their rookies, and I feel myself getting emotional. But on my second lap, I see my wife. I come to a stop, my jaw going slack at how gorgeous she is. She stands by the penalty box in her number 71 Katz Assassins jersey and has a bright grin on her sweet face. In her hand is a white poster board that reads: This is your moment. Live it. I’m so proud of you. Congratulations. Love, your wife.

It takes everything in me to keep my emotions at bay when our eyes meet.

Fucking hell, I do love her.

She is perfect. She is there for me. Cares for me. Always there to lift me up, even when I feel like I’m not worth it. She is what is right in this world. Or better yet, in my world. She makes my world right. Beautiful. Full of sunshine and rainbows, because when I look at her, that’s what I see. Which is really fucking corny, but hell, I don’t care. I love her. I love her eyes, her smile, her nose. I love how compact she is and wish I could just keep her in my pocket.

I love her. All of her.

And I need her to know right now. While it’s not ideal to scream it through a thick piece of glass, I have to tell her. My eyes burn with unshed tears as I skate toward her while she beams at me. But before I can reach her, a large body stops in front of me. The body of the man whose wife had my cock in her mouth. I meet a pair of dark-brown eyes that are narrowed and full of vengeance. Willis Barnes’s dark-brown hair is long and touching his shoulders, his seafoam-green Kraken helmet hanging haphazardly on his head as he pins me with a look. My stomach clenches, my heart thumps in my chest, but I don’t back down, nor do I cower away. I’m tired of letting people steal my happiness.

Instead, I nod. “Barnes.”

“Katz,” he mimics, his voice so full of fury.

We just stare at each other, and finally, my annoyance bubbles over. I refuse to let this dude ruin my moment. “Well, good luck. Excuse me.”

“You can’t even apologize, can you?” he snaps at me, grabbing my arm. I look to where he holds my bicep and then to his eyes. He must see the warning in my eyes because he lets me go. “You almost ruined my marriage.”

I shake my head. “No. I played a part in it, and for that, I’m sorry. I told you that many times in the weeks after you found me with her, and I am truly sorry. But it takes two to tango. I don’t have any ill will toward you or your wife. I’m just trying to live my own life with my own wife and not let what happened dictate my future. It was unfortunate and I regret it, but it’s in the past.”

Wow. I’m proud of myself for that. Shit, I even feel as confident as I sound. I think the adults call this growth.

“I still live with it daily,” he snaps, his eyes almost in slits. “Knowing you touched her?—”

“Dude, don’t do this,” I practically beg. “This isn’t the time or place, and we’ve already had this argument. I let you tear me apart. You didn’t even listen when I told you I didn’t sleep with her. Hell, I didn’t even kiss her. I know this is hard, and I can’t imagine my wife betraying me the way yours did with my help. But please, let it go. I’m here to play hockey, and that’s it.”

Barnes’s eyes burn into mine. “Fuck you, you piece of shit.”

I nod. “Here in Tennessee, we say, ‘Bless your heart.’ And I mean it. Bless you. But this is the last time we’re having this conversation.” I hope my voice holds the warning it needs to, but I fully expect him to take cheap shots all night. Jackass. He skates off, and all I can do is shrug. That went as well as I assumed it would.

With his presence gone, my wife is watching me, her brow furrowed and her lips pressed together in apprehension. She’s not smiling how I want her to. Great, she’s worried about me. I hate when she worries about me.

I see her move her mouth, asking, “Are you okay?”

I can’t hear her, but I know that’s what she said. I nod. “Fine.”

She smiles tentatively, and then Louisa taps her, pointing to the side and drawing Eliza’s gaze away.

While the words are right there, just for her, I hold back. I’ll tell her after the game when we celebrate an Assassins win. Maybe even a goal from me.

But telling my wife that I love her is the only goal on my mind.