Bailey harrumphed a little sound of annoyance, like she knew I was right but didn’t want to admit it. I kissed the top of her head and turned toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. While she got ready for bed, I went down to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water. When I returned, Bailey was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, looking pitiful.
She rolled onto her side, and the blanket shifted, revealing a sliver of my red Falcons T-shirt. “I feel gross.”
“You’ll feel better in the morning.” I set the water on the nightstand and slid into bed beside her.
“Then I’ll be hungover.”
“Drink something. It’ll help.” I picked up her a glass from my nightstand and handed it to her. She drained half of it before placing it on her side of the bed. When she settled under the blankets again, I pulled her closer, and she slipped beneath my arm, nestling against my chest.
“I ruined our night.”
“Not at all. Obviously, you’re not getting out of being tied up another time, but that can wait. Did you have fun?”
“I did…” She groaned, covering her eyes. “But why am I so drunk? I didn’t even drink very much.”
“You don’t drink very often, though.”
“Neither do you.”
Not anymore. Probably a handful of times since we’d been together. Maybe I still had some leftover tolerance.
“I’m also, like, twice your size.”
Bailey laughed. “Not even.”
“Fine. One and a half times your size.”
She snuggled closer to me, letting out a long sigh. As she fell quiet, her breaths grew slower and more even, like she’d drifted off, but a moment later, she spoke up again.
“My academic advisor is going to put in a good word for me with the scholarship committee. She has a lot of sway as the department head. Plus, I got a call about videoconference interview for that internship…” She trailed off. “I wasn’t going to tell you about either of those because I was scared of jinxing them. But if you do leave, maybe at least those things will work out.”
My chest tightened, and there was a sharp pang in my gut. She was obviously spinning in circles about this, but I didn’t know what I could do to help. It wasn’t even a surefire thing yet.
“Don’t worry about the leaving thing for now, James.”
“It’s hard not to.”
I kissed the top of her head, giving her a squeeze. “I’m here now, right?”
“I know.”
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 50
OceanofPDF.com
GAME DAY
Chase
Slivers of golden afternoon light filtered in from the gaps between my blinds, rudely reminding me it was the middle of the day and I was wide awake. I let out a heavy sigh of frustration, staring at the stark white ceiling. The house was silent, the air still. Both of the guys were probably out cold—like I should have been. Like I wanted to be.
Unfortunately, I’d been vibrating with excess energy from the moment I woke up this morning. My long-standing, low-level rage toward Morrison had mingled with an unpleasant tinge of anxiety, making it impossible to relax, let alone fall asleep. I hated worrying, rarely ever did it, and thoroughly resented that I was. But this was personal in a way no matchup had ever been before.
I was going to win or die trying.
Was probably going to hit the wall something fierce after the game was over too, but as long as we emerged victorious, I didn’t care.
Because of classes and pre-game prep after, I didn’t get to see Bailey. I’d loosened up on my rigid pre-game routine lately, but I couldn’t take any chances today. Ty, Dallas, and I religiously executed every single superstitious ritual we had, no matter how small or how silly. Even the dumb ones, like Dallas wearing his pair of lucky socks and which one of was driving to the rink.
If there was any chance it would tip the scales in our favor, we were doing it.
Well, except for my pre-game nap—and not for lack of trying. I loved sleeping, never struggled with insomnia, and normally, I would have been sound asleep twenty minutes ago. Instead, I was obsessing over plays and daydreaming about inflicting severe bodily harm on Morrison. Would it be another open-ice check, or would I smash him into the boards like the pest he was? I’d planned for either scenario so I’d be ready when either opportunity arose. Hopefully, I’d take him clean out of the game again so I didn’t have to see his stupid, smug face a moment longer than necessary.
Sleep crept farther out of reach as my rage climbed another notch. Fuck. Morrison was living in my head rent-free when I should have been resting and recharging. Or fantasizing about Bailey naked, at the very least.
Finally, I slid out of bed and sank down into my desk chair, grabbing my Urban Economics textbook. Studying was the last thing I wanted to do before a game—and was something I’d never done—but I didn’t know what else to do with myself.
That lasted all of three minutes before I gave up and looked up hockey stats online, rearranging my fantasy hockey lines. I was still in the lead, and I wanted to keep it that way. This occupied my restless brain for a while, but the low hum of resentment lingered in the back if my mind, nevertheless.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, snapping me back to reality.
“Ready?” Dallas pounded on my door.
I glanced at the clock on my desk, electricity shooting through my veins. Go time. “Yeah,” I called. “Be right down.”
Body buzzing, I stood, pushed in my chair, and grabbed my stuff on the way out. I jogged down the stairs and found the guys waiting in the hallway, their faces tight. The atmosphere was so heavy it was like we were heading to a funeral rather than a game.
“Are you ready to fuck some shit up?” I asked.
Dallas nodded. “You know it.”
Tyler eyed me warily. “I know you want to crush Morrison, but don’t let him take your head out of the game.”
“I won’t,” I said.
Bailey: Good luck tonight. I love you.
Chase: I love you too. See you after.
As the clock ticked down to puck drop, Miller gave us a legendary pep talk in the dressing room that none of us needed—we were more than amped to play our biggest rival. By the time we we burst out of the dressing room, we were ready for a bloodbath.
Another overdose of adrenaline hit my veins as soon as the ice came into view. So much so that I feared going into cardiac arrest before the game even started. Knowing Bailey was watching made me want to win that much more too.
Scratch that. I didn’t want to win—I needed to.
Dallas and I hopped on for a shift against Callingwood’s first line. Morrison, of course, was nowhere to be found because he was down on Callingwood’s third line again. As the game went on, though, we would inevitably cross paths, and I wouldn’t waste a single opportunity to destroy him.
The first ten minutes were painfully tight, with several scoring opportunities for both sides without success. Ty was holding his own, but so was Mendez. With each minute that passed without a goal, the tension in the stands and on our bench ratcheted up. It could be a one-goal game at the rate things were going, and that goal needed to be ours.
A few shifts later, Morrison and I were on the ice together for the first time. The moment I’d been waiting for. The puck sailed loose, heading into their zone, and we both barreled straight for it. Arguably, he should have stayed higher and let one of their defensemen cover me instead, but he wanted to bait me, and I was more than happy to bite.