Page 40 of Puck Sweat Love

I shrug. “You’ll see. And I like just about everything. Except the really angry shit.”

Her lips hook up in a wry smile. “Don’t like to feed the beast?”

I grunt again. “Something like that. I’m working on my blood pressure, you know.”

“I do know,” she says, slipping on the cap and then the helmet. She lifts her chin, holding my gaze as I reach over to tighten the strap for her. “How’s that going, by the way?”

“Not sure, yet,” I say. “The doc is going to check me out at the beginning of camp week after next. But I feel better. Hopefully, I’m making progress.”

“If not, we’ll keep working on it,” she says, patting my chest again. “No worries.”

No worries…

I can’t remember a time when that phrase would have applied to me, but as she climbs onto the bike behind me and we rumble out of the city, there isn’t a worry on my mind. I’m just…happy.

Happy to be on the road and to have a solid seven hours of Steph time stretching out ahead of me.

The ride south is perfect—warm sun, open roads, and Stephanie’s arms around me. About halfway there, I pull over at a roadside coffee stand and rest stop, just in case she needs the bathroom.

Or a latte.

We grab cold drinks and sip them side-by-side at a picnic table, our faces tipped up to the sun as a cool coastal breeze whips in from the west, promising fall is right around the corner. The season will be starting soon and there won’t be time for a day-long adventure like this.

But we’re here now. And for the first time in months, I’m not worried about my return to the NHL. Even thoughts of Garcia can’t bug me today. He can plot and scheme all he wants. None of that is going to matter when I show up and leave it all on the ice.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Stephanie says, stirring her matcha with her straw.

“Just thinking about camp starting.”

“Nervous? Excited? Both?” she asks.

“No. Just…ready,” I say. “And relieved. I’ve waited a long time for this chance.”

She narrows her eyes as she nods. “Good. I’m glad you’re not nervous. You shouldn’t be. You’re a grown ass man who’s going to show the rookies how it’s done.”

My chest tightens and suddenly the question I intended to ask her later is popping out of my mouth, “Speaking of grown ass man shit, I wanted to ask if it would be okay to call you my girlfriend. You know, in a couple weeks. When camp starts.”

She blinks, a bemused smile springing to her lips. “In a couple weeks? Not now?”

I exhale a laugh. “No, I mean, yes. Now. Of course, now. I’d like to call you my girlfriend as soon as possible. I just was thinking… At camp… It’ll be easier to justify telling the otherplayers to keep their eyeballs to themselves if I can just say—that’s my girlfriend, don’t fuck with her or I’ll end you in painful ways.”

She sighs. “As a pacifist, I know I shouldn’t find threats of violence on my behalf sexy, but…” She leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek before pulling back to add, “Yes. Of course, you can call me your girlfriend.” Mischief flickers in her eyes. “And don’t worry, I won’t let any of the other women at the concert put their grabby hands on you in the mosh pit. I’ll tell them to keep their horny fingers off my boyfriend.”

I smile. “I never said we were going to a concert. And I’m not telling you where we’re going until we get there.”

“I hate you. I really do…” She trails off, her cheeks flushing. “And I’m catching feels for you, LiBassi. Hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” I cup her face, dragging my thumb lightly across her bottom lip. “The feels are mutual.”

Her eyes go soft. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. All the feels.” I frown before I add, “Except the bad feels. Feels are just feelings right? I don’t usually do slang.”

She grins. “You’re cute.”

“Like an old man trapped in a young man’s body?”

She laughs again. “Exactly. But in a cute way. You’ve heard that before, I’m guessing?”

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