Chapter 39

thirty-nine

MADDOX

"I'm going to miss you," Isla says for the third time. "I wish I didn't have to work so I could be there. But Jess and Nev are going to come over and watch the game with me. They're almost as excited as I am."

I grin, ignoring the amused looks my teammates throw my way. Let them laugh. One day they'll find a woman that knocks them on their asses the way Isla has knocked me on mine, and then they'll get it. She's everything.

"You gonna be wearing my jersey, baby?"

Griffin catches my eye, and at that question, he sticks his tongue out and starts french kissing the air, his arms wrapped around an invisible woman. Bash smacks him upside the head from his seat beside him.

"Of course I am," Isla says. "Gotta support my man."

Logan smirks beside me. I'm sure the shithead can hear her end of the conversation, but I don't care. I'm completely gone for her .

"So, when is your sister coming to town again?" Isla's looking forward to meeting Mira, but I know she's feeling anxious, too. She doesn't need to be nervous, and I've told her that, but I get it. If she had any siblings, I'd probably be worried about making a good impression, too. What Isla doesn't realize is that Mira already loves her just based off the stories I've told and the way my face gets all gooey when I talk about my girl. Mira's words, not mine.

"She gets in on Monday. I figured the three of us could go out to dinner?"

"Dude," Griffin says, whacking me on the shoulder. "What about us? We want to come, too." He motions to himself, Logan, and Bash. "It's been too long since we've seen Mir."

"Butt out of my conversation, Wright. We'll all go out after the game. You're not invited Monday night, and if you somehow show up where we are, I'll kick your ass."

"Touchy, touchy," Griffin teases. Isla laughs.

"I want to take you out after Mira leaves. Something fun. There's a fall festival downtown I thought we could go to. They'll have rides and food and entertainment. What do you think, baby?"

Isla does a cute little squeal. "Ohmygod, yes. I have been dying to go to that."

"Great. Then it's a date." I can't wait to walk around and show my girl off. Maybe make out with her at the top of the Ferris wheel.

The tinny voice of the plane's captain crackles over the loudspeaker in the team's jet, letting us know we'll be taxiing to the runway, and to shut off all phones and other electronic devices.

"Gotta go, baby. I'll call you when I land, okay? "

My girl sighs on the other end of the line. "Okay. Be safe. Have fun."

"Bye Isla," my teammates say in unison at Griffin's urging. She giggles and instructs me to tell them she says goodbye, too. We both say our goodbyes three more times, like lovesick teenagers before the flight attendant gives me a look, and I finally hang up the phone.

"Well, that was fucking adorable," Wright says loudly. "Wasn't that just adorable, guys?"

All the guys on the plane coo and give me shit, but I don't care. And when Coach commends me for taking my image-rehabbing so seriously, I just laugh. Let them talk shit all they want. I'm finally really happy.

"Jesus, man," Byrne says, eyeing me.

"What?"

"You're in love with her."

I open my mouth to deny it because that's ridiculous. It's too soon for love, even if I am wild about her. But the words don't come.

Hell, am I in love with her?

Byrne shakes his head, but he's smiling. "Never thought I'd see the day. She's good for you, though. I'm happy for you."

There must be something stuck in my throat because it's feeling a little raw, so I clear it. "Thanks, Byrne. When are you going to give up your one night rule and let yourself fall for someone?"

In all the years I've known Logan, he's never dated anyone. Not once.

"Never," he says without pause. "Love's not for me."

Logan's never explicitly told us why he's so anti-love, but his dad was a famous NHL player in his own day, and I know for a fact that the man has been married half a dozen times. Logan never mentions his mom. Seems to me like his parents' shitty relationship put him off as much as my own dad's abandonment put me off.

Still, maybe I'm just riding the high of finding a woman who makes me feel things I've never felt before, but I hope one day he finds someone who forces him to rethink all the rules and bullshit restrictions he's put on himself.

His words echo in my head. You're in love with her . Maybe I am. If even closed-off Logan Byrne can see it, it must be pretty obvious. That the thought doesn't scare me is its own revelation.

"Just don't let it mess up your focus on the ice," Logan says. "I think we've really got a shot to go all the way this season."

"I won't." And I mean it. I'm more determined than ever to play my best and win these games. Because my girl's going to be watching at home, and I want to make her proud.

My blood hums as I tear down the ice. My blades carve a sharp path toward the goal. I live for this.

We're up two against the Leviathans, despite the solid defensive effort they've mounted. Their goalie is good, but we're on fire.

I pass the puck to Wright, who brings it around the back of the Leviathans' net. He skillfully avoids their left defenseman, pulls back his stick to fake out the goalie, and then passes it back to me. With their goalie distracted by Griffin's move, I slap the puck in the crease and let out a whoop when the flashing red light announces my goal. The fans in the stands boo, but it's music to my ears.

We're up by three, with only four minutes left in the third period. We don't have to hold them off much longer. Even if they score one, they still don't stand a chance and they know it. Their guys are checking us into the boards more and more with every passing minute. If they can't win, they can at least leave us with bruises.

One of their wingers slams hard into Byrne, and I throw myself into the fray as we battle it out for possession of the puck.

The minutes tick down, and the Leviathans make a hard push to our goal. Their wingers crowd Navarro at the net, which pisses me the hell off. I muscle one away, while Wright crowds the other. Their center slaps the puck at the net, but Navarro stops it. Just like he's stopped every other attempt they've made to score.

Byrne chips the puck out of the zone, and we all rush after it as the clock runs down. When the final buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game, the guys and I head back to the locker room. We're pumped from winning our first game of the year—even if it is just a preseason game—and everyone's talking over each other and celebrating.

"Great game," I shout to my teammates. "You were all beasts out there."

"Hell yeah," Griffin shouts as he pulls his sweaty gear off. "Where are we going to celebrate tonight? Anyone know somewhere that serves good bar food around here?"

A few of the guys call out suggestions as they shower and change back into their game-day suits, but all I can think about is calling Isla. I get cleaned up and ready in record time, and as soon as I'm on the bus, I pull out my phone and find no less than five texts from her. She'd obviously been texting me throughout the game.

Isla

Oh my god, babe, are you okay? That asshole slammed you into the boards so hard.

You look so hot in your uniform.

Did Griffin just do the Macarena after making a goal?

Hell yeah!! Look at my man scoring a goal! The announcers keep saying you're on fire and they're calling you the Gravedigger. They said you're burying the other team six feet under the ice.

If you were here I would so go down on you. Like, all the way down.

I'm grinning like an idiot when the rest of the guys file in. Griffin flops down next to me and steals my phone. He chuckles as he reads them, somehow keeping the phone out of my reach.

"She liked my celly? Your woman has good taste."

Growling, I rip my phone out of his hand. "Don't read my texts, shithead."

Griffin shrugs, his lips turned up in a smirk. "Fair enough. You going out with us tonight?"

I look down at my phone. "Nah, I don't think so. I'm going to call Isla."

"Ah, I get it. Phone sex is pretty hot."

I smack the back of his head, but that's exactly how I'm hoping the call will go. I'm overflowing with energy and adrenaline, and if I can't bury myself in my girl, I can at least get off to the sound of her voice or the sight of her tits if she'll FaceTime me.

"Well, if you change your mind, just text me and I'll tell you where we are."

"Thanks, man, but I'll be good."

Logan's words run on a loop in my head.

You're in love with her .

Ignoring Griffin's shit-eating grin, I text my girlfriend.

Me

You alone, baby? Because if you're not, send your friends home. I know we're in different cities, but I still want to celebrate with you.

Her reply is almost instant.

Isla

Oh yeah? Color me intrigued.

Me

How do you feel about phone sex?

Kicking the girls out now.

Normally, I don't mind life on the road. But right now? Right now I wish I were home because somehow Isla Harding is the only person I want to celebrate a win with. And while phone sex is fun, it's got nothing on savoring her soft body in person, inhaling her scent, and swallowing those sexy little mewls she makes when I push myself deep inside of her.

You're in love with her.

Shit. Maybe I am.