“You’ve seen him on the ice. He’s better with his fists.”
Oh, shit. I’m doomed.
“Jordy’s face is too handsome to mess up.” Piper laughs, still holding on to me because she must sense how much I need her comfort.
It’s the most handsome face I’ve ever seen.
I hope Wade doesn’t mess it up when I tell him because he’s going to find out eventually.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Jordy
It’s Saturday, and it’s only been a few days since I saw my girl at Wade and Kali’s wedding.
Scratch that, not my girl.
Lola.
Wade’s sister.
That’s all she is to me now.
Yet here she is tonight at the game and she’s wearing my jersey, which is just fucking with my head.
Pushing me away for weeks, she’s made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t want me.
What happened to thefeelingsshe said she caught for me?
The sorrow in my bones makes them ache. I wish she had stayed home tonight because I can’t concentrate, my focus is shot to pieces.
Wade bolts across the ice in front of me. Having had a month off, he brought his A-game on steroids tonight. “Where’s your fucking head at tonight?” he bellows, shooting past me again.
“Sorry.” I pull my mind back into the game.
Tonight’s game against the Panthers has been bittersweet. Wade’s back, which I’m buzzing about, but at the same time, he’s a reminder of why Lola and I aren’t together.
Because she isn’t employed by the Eagles anymore. She’s working for Wade directly, meaning we could have been something. Everything.
Now we’ll never be anything because she’s Wade’s sister, and she has no intention of telling him about us or she would have by now.
“One minute to go.” Wade zooms past me yet again. He’s running circles around me tonight. Skating backward, he asks, “Ready?”
I smile, even though my heart is heavier than a rock. “Yeah.” My excited response doesn’t match how I feel. I want tonight to be over.
“Then let’s win this fucker.” Wade races off and knocks the puck away from Wicker, the Panthers' dirtiest defenseman, and I’m moving at speed to assist.
The crowd cheers because they know if we pull this off, we’ll win the game.
Wicker is hot on Wade’s tail, but when the puck slips out, Wicker is too slow, missing, and Wade is right there to pick it up. Spinning around, Wade’s back to Wicker, he passes to me and I’m crossing in on the right wing, flying toward the goal. I glide it over the ice and take the shot. The puck goes straight through the Panthers' goalie’s legs and flips upward, hitting the top of the net. The goal horn blows at the same time the Klaxon sounds, and it’s game over. 5-1. Eagles win.
Thank fuck.
Now I can get out of this gear, do a quick post-game cooldown, and shower.
I’m praying I don’t get selected to do media tonight. I want to get the hell out of here as quickly as I can.
I wish I could go home to paint, but I can’t even do that, which is ludicrous given I have an exhibition coming up in the summer. I don’t have a creative block. I have a Lola-sized blockage in my heart that’s shutting everything down.