Page 97 of Blocked Score

Then Rhys and I will actually be brothers-in-law. Fuck, there’s that dab of wetness in my eyes again …

One thing about today that brings a sour taste to my mouth, though, is looking ahead to Scarlett’s graduation, knowing that, sadly, she won’t have family here to celebrate her accomplishment like all my teammates, Summer, and Olivia have right now.

But I’ll sure as hell be here. And I know that the rest of the guys who’ve gotten to know her—Hudson, Sebastian, Tuck, Rhys, and Jamie—will make the trip out to show her their support, too. I know we’re all coming back next year, too, to watch Sebastian and Carter graduate.

The breeze is suddenly rustling through my hair as my cap disappears from my head.

I turn and see Scarlet there, placing the cap on her head. It falls jauntily to the side since it’s fitted for my much larger skull.

Fuck. How the hell can Scarlett wearing a graduation cap be that sexy?

I grab her hips and pull her close, unable to stop myself from imagining two years from now, when she’s wearing a fitted graduation cap and a gown to boot.

I already know I’m going to ask her to come to bed that night wearing that cap and gown—and nothing else.

Shit. More than walking across the stage to get that diploma soon, more than joining my pro team in Montreal, more than playing my first NHL game, that’s the moment in the future I’m looking forward to the most right now.

“I like you in my cap,” I say after planting a kiss on her lips.

I like her in my cap. I like her in my jersey. I like her in my everything.

“We just found some seats,” Scarlett says. She’ll be sitting with my parents and Maddie in the stands at the outdoor football stadium for the ceremony. It’s been great seeing them get along so well, though she was nervous about meeting my parents for the first time.

“You guys should get going,” Sebastian says, checking his phone. “I’ll be cheering for you assholes even if they tell us not to.”

We say goodbye to the non-graduates and join the flow of caps and gowns heading to the chairs set out on the turf.

Of course, we all stand up and cheer wildly every time one of our names is called. Summer first, then Rhys, then me, then Olivia, then Tuck, then Hudson.

Even Hudson was clapping up a storm and yelling his support for each of us, when making a bunch of noise in public is normally the last thing you’d catch him doing.

After the ceremony, before we go rejoin our families for most of the rest of the day, all the graduates meet up outside the stadium. Tuck snuck a flask of liquor and a couple tiny paper cups underneath his gown, and we all do a celebratory shot.

Mostly, we spend the rest of the afternoon with our families, going out to eat and traipsing around so they can take a million pictures of us.

Later in the day, they head home, and we convene back at the house. We still have a couple days before we have to move out, so we’re throwing a little party for all the team members still on campus. Scarlett, Maddie, Olivia, and Summer are here, too.

We’re just about half an hour into hanging out when the doorbell rings. I look around, not sure who’s missing from the gathering who’d still be on campus. When I pull the door open, my brow leaps up my forehead.

“Coach,” I say, shocked.

He wears a wry grin. “I was thirsty, and I figured this place would be serving drinks.”

Surprised but amused, I stand back and let him inside.

The rest of the guys’ eyes go wide as they watch our coach stroll to the kitchen, grab himself a can of beer, and crack it open.

He stands between the kitchen and the living room, all eyes on him as he takes a pull of the drink.

“I won’t hang around long,” he announces. “I just wanted to say a couple words to you boys before you left.” He pauses. “You all know I’m not one for long speeches …”

“Unless it’s about what we did wrong during practice,” Tuck calls out with a big smile.

Coach’s mouth twitches. “But I just wanted to say … this is the best team I’ve ever coached. It’s no surprise you brought home the championship this year. To those of you heading to the pros, I have no doubt you’ll succeed. To those of you doing something else, I know the hard work and dedication you showed me over these last four years will make you succeed there, too.”

He takes another long pull of the beer, finishing most of the can in a single gulp. When he crumples the empty can in his hand, I can almost imagine a Jack Torres a year or two younger than we are right now, a fresh-faced college hockey player throwing back brewskis at a house party.

I wonder if in twenty years or so, I’ll be coaching, too?

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