“Or maybe I’ll never make the team.”
She starts to cry again, and although it kills me to make it worse, we promised each other we’d always be honest.
“Maybe you won’t,” I agree softly.
She rears back, releasing a cross between a laugh and a wheeze. “You are so bad at this.”
“Maybe you won’t ever make the team,” I repeat. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the single greatest player in women’s college hockey right now. Fairlee said so himself. He’s not looking at stats, because if he was, you’d be on that roster in a heartbeat.”
“But why don’t I have that other quality he’s looking for? What the hell about me is lacking?”
“Nothing about you is lacking. Ever. You’re perfect, exactly the way you are. Even with all your flaws. Like needing to be the best. And your taste in music.”
Her answering laugh is a bit wobbly.
“Nobody likes failure, G. But I maintain that this isn’t failure. This is just one moment in time.”
“A moment in time,” she echoes weakly.
“Yes, and right now, in this moment, you’re down. But that’s okay because I’m here to lift you up.”
“Always?” she whispers, peering at me with those big gray eyes.
“Always. You fall, I pick you up. Always.”
Her tears are drying up, her breathing growing steady. She loops her arms around my shoulders and presses her face into my neck. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
RYDER
This is it, Luke
BOTH THE MEN’S AND WOMEN’S TEAMS DOMINATE THE REGIONAL finals. For the first time in a decade, both Briar programs will be competing in their respective Frozen Fours this April.
After crushing our opponent in the regional tournament, we’re riding the momentum and eager to get into the arena with the final four teams. Minnesota Duluth and Notre Dame also made it through. But the real upset of the playoffs was Arizona State, who slayed the dragon known as UConn to advance forward. Luckily, they’re facing Notre Dame next, and I pray we don’t face them in the final. I haven’t shared the ice with my former teammate Michael Klein since we were eighteen and I was cracking his jaw open with my fist.
We have two weeks off before the game. And we lucked out this year—our Frozen Four is being held in Boston. The women’s tournament is a week before ours, and Gigi’s lying in my bed when she suddenly rolls over and says, “Do you feel like coming to Vegas with me?”
“Are you asking me to marry you?” I inquire politely.
“No, I’m asking you to come to Vegas and watch us play. My parents will be there. My brother too.”
“Gee, great. Can’t wait to see them.”
She lightly punches me in the arm. “Come on. They’ve warmed up to you a lot.”
“Only your mom.”
In fact, Hannah Graham is pretty much my best friend now. Gigi teases me about how frequently we text. It started after the winter holidays, and at first, I pretended it made me uncomfortable. Shrugged it off. Said it was weird she kept contacting me.
That was all talk. Whenever her mother checks in on me, it unleashes a flood of warmth in my chest. It’s a totally foreign sensation.
But it’s not entirely unwelcome.
A few days later, I’m boarding a plane with Gigi. Since I have the time off and we both have a good handle on our schoolwork, we decided to skip classes and go a day early to get in some tourist shit. She’s never been to Vegas.
She seems to regret that decision within hours of our arrival, though, looking around the strip in dismay. “Oh God, these lights are the worst. Why are they all shining at me? It’s the middle of the day! I feel like I’m on a spaceship.” She glares at a gold fountain shooting ten-foot-high water arcs as if it personally insulted her. “This is not fun. I’m not this extravagant.”
I link our fingers together, chuckling. “Not my cup of tea either.”
Our gazes lock. I lick my lips.
“Should we go back to the hotel?” I drawl.
“Yes, please.”
We spend the rest of the evening fucking. I go down on her in the huge shower in our room, tormenting her by denying her an orgasm for a solid forty minutes. She returns the favor by blowing me in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. I don’t care that everyone can see my bare ass and that someone’s probably filming us and posting it online. All I care about is how warm her mouth is and how wet her tongue is, how silky smooth her lips are as they travel along my shaft.
We lie in bed afterward. I stroke her hair. Reach for the remote and flip channels until I land on TSBN. They’re airing a countdown show touting the ten greatest hockey players of all time. Number one is Gigi’s dad.
As his face fills the flat-screen, I chuckle. “I can’t wait to see him tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be super delightful.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you at all. Now you know how it feels to be around a prickly asshole who doesn’t want to make conversation with you.”
“I wasn’t that bad.”
“You were worse. You communicated exclusively in shrugs. Infuriating jackass.”
I grin. “Call me that again, and I’ll go back to shrugging instead of talking.”
“Nope. The floodgates have opened. You can’t dam that back up, baby.”
She’s right. I can’t.
I turn off the TV and move onto my side, propping up on one elbow. I bite my lip as I gaze down at her.
“I don’t want anybody else. You know that, right?”
Gigi blinks. “Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know. I just need you to know I don’t want to be with anyone else. Ever.”
A soft smile tugs on her lips. “Me too.” She reaches up to touch my face, rubbing the stubble on my jaw. “This is it, Luke. I think we both know that.”
Yes, I think we do.
I jerk when the loud growl of her stomach vibrates between our bodies. We skipped dinner because we were busy having sex.
“You doing okay there, Gisele?”
“I’m so hungry. Why does this hotel not have room service?” she moans.
“Because you specifically asked me to book one that didn’t,” I remind her, rolling my eyes. “To quote you, you’re on a championship diet and must not be tempted by room service dessert.”
“Why do you listen to me?”
“I’ll start ignoring your wishes,” I promise.
She snorts and climbs out of bed. “Well, I guess we’re venturing onto the horrible strip again in search of nourishment. I need to put something in my belly.”
“I’ll give you something to put in your belly.”
“I don’t know what that means, Ryder. Are you talking about a baby, or is it a semen swallowing thing?”
I keel over in laughter. “Why do you always have to ruin my jokes by digging too deep into them?”
“Tell better jokes,” she advises.
I haul her off the bed. “Come on. Vegas, take two.”
Two days later, the morning of the women’s Frozen Four championship game in which Briar will play Ohio State, I wake up with a huge smile on my face. Although that’s what happens when there’s a gorgeous woman in your bed and she’s giving you a handjob. She brings me to the edge and then shoves me right over it, while I lie there panting. Gigi’s equally giddy, beaming and bouncing with excitement as she gets dressed.