Oh, fuck. My heart. The words. The girl. It all makes my heart race and for my lungs to be short of oxygen.
“Same here, sweetheart.”
I pepper kisses on the side of her head as I watch a smile pull at her lips through the mirror. And though I love every single curve on her body, that one right there is my favorite.
40
STEVIE
“Are you done with your part of setting up the plane?”
“Hmm?” I absentmindedly ask my coworker, keeping my eyes glued to my tiny phone screen.
“Are you done with your part of setting up the plane?”
Tara’s sharp tone causes my head to snap up and look at her. Her brows are lifted, eyes pointed, and arms crossed over her chest. “Yes. Everything is done. Just waiting for the game to end.”
Tara’s disapproving stare bounces from my face down to my phone and then back again before she slips past me to the galley.
Rolling my eyes, I slide into the nearest seat as I continue to watch the game on my phone—round two, game six, and currently seven minutes into the overtime period. Chicago is ahead three to two on this series against Vegas, and if they pull out the road win tonight, we’ll be headed for round three, only one series away from the Stanley Cup Finals.
“How are they doing?” Indy falls into the seat next to mine, but before I can answer, a deep throaty moan slips from her. “Holy shit, these seats.” She melts further into the lux leather. “No wonder the boys all pass out the second they get on the plane. These seats are amazing.”
“Overtime,” I tell her, wishing I could laugh along with her right now, but I’m far too stressed. “Seven minutes in. First to score wins.”
My index finger absentmindedly ghosts over the skin of my thumb, wishing I had my gold ring to spin.
“How’s Zanders doing?” Indy’s whisper is as quiet as can be.
“He’s doing well. He’s played a shit-ton of minutes tonight, though.”
“Oh, there’s Rio!” Indy points out as number thirty-eight hops the boards, and I know when Rio takes the ice, his blue-line partner is right behind as number eleven joins him in the game.
Zanders’ shift is spent primarily on the offensive end as Chicago controls the puck. Maddison gets a good look in front of the goal as the announcers’ voices raise, assuming he’s about to score, but one of Vegas’ defensemen picks it out of the pocket, clearing it out of their zone and extending their season’s life a little longer.
But before it makes it past the blue line, Rio pops his stick out, keeping the boys onside for another play.
The puck bounces around the team in white, exhaustion evident in their sloppy passes and slow maneuvers. Thankfully, Vegas is equally as careless, everyone on the ice just as tired from the lack of a shift change.
My heart is racing as I squirm in my seat, unable to calm myself down as I keep my eyes glued to the tiny screen in my hands.
The puck makes it back to Zanders as he quickly looks to pass it off but instead, he winds up, letting loose on a slap shot from the blue line in hopes it’ll find one of his teammates in front of the goal.
But it doesn’t find one of his teammates. Instead, it flies past the goalie, finding the back of the net and pulling out the overtime victory.
“Oh my God!” I yell out. Indy jumps up from her seat, screaming with me as we hold each other in a hug, jumping around and cheering.
“I don’t know what’s happening, but I know it’s good!” Indy adds.
“It’s really fucking good!”
“Since when do you two care about how the team does?” Tara suspiciously asks, cutting into our celebration.
Indy and I freeze, releasing each other as we stand a little straighter, smoothing out our uniforms.
“Uh…” I hesitate. “We should all care. The longer the season, the more flights we have, and the more money we make. Right?”
Tara’s gaze works the length of my body, clearing not believing me. “Sure.”
The boys are the rowdiest I’ve ever seen them as they fill the plane for our flight back home to Chicago. Rio’s boom box is blaring music, the team is in high spirits, and there are constant cheers as each player walks onto the plane.
But the plane gets its loudest when the giant defenseman with gold jewelry and a fitted three-piece suit who scored the game-winning goal walks on board.
My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, infinitely proud of him for continuing to show that the headlines and attention he brings the organization are about more than just his personal life. He has the talent to back up all the shit-talking, and he has the skill to earn a huge extended contract based on ability alone.