Page 83 of Skating to Him

I wiggled my fingers. “Nope, I’m good.” I yawned. “Let’s clean up and go to bed.” I was drained after all that, and cuddling in bed with the man I loved was the best.

A few weeks had passed,and I was back on the ice for our last game before Christmas break. We were up three to one against Omaha, finals were over, and I was scheduled to fly home tomorrow. I would be coming out to everyone, and then Tyler was lined up to meet my family a few days before New Year’s. Things were better than ever between us, on and off the ice.

I skated down the side of the boards with the puck.

After Cummings checked a winger about to grapple with me,I tossed him the puck and skated toward Omaha’s goal with him.

Hodge picked up his pace on the other side of the rink and twisted around. “Go, Cummings.”

With a whoosh past me, Omaha’s center closed in on Cummings.

“Fuck.” How did I not see that guy? I hightailed it down the ice after him.

The center hip-checked Cummings and stole the puck, then twisted around and headed back toward me. “How’s the knee, Mackenzie?” He cackled, flipped the puck to his winger, and stormed at me, his stick out.

The fucker was going to try and take out my knee again. I knew it. I braced for impact, crouching low on my skates. Apparently, he figured it’d be worth the penalty. “We’ve got a goon over here.”

“Not today.” Hodge came out of nowhere, skating between me and the center.

The center bashed into Hodge, throwing him to the ice.

“Ugh… Fucker!” Hodge rolled on his back, holding his helmeted head.

“Shit, you okay?” I skated to him. The fucker better not have hurt him. We were so close to having the perfect holiday, and Hodge had to make his flight to Chicago to meet with the Blackhawks.

The ref blew a whistle and play stopped.

I fell to my knees next to him, throwing off my gloves and placing my hand on his side. “Hodge, talk to me.”

He lay on his back, spread out on the ice, giving a blank stare to the roof of the barn.

What the fuck? My pulse ramped up. “Hodge?”

As a grin crawled along his lips, his gaze cut to mine, and he said, “No one fucks with my man.” He patted my hand with his glove. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.” He rolled over and hopped up. “Fuck, that was a hard hit.”

“You took that for me.” I jumped onto my skates, bent over to grab my gloves and his stick, and as I pushed his stick at his chest, I said, “Don’t you dare get hurt for me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He smirked and came in close. “Unless we’re in bed.” He grabbed his stick and tapped my ass with the end of it. “Come on, Coach wants us in.” With a snicker, he pushed on my lower back.

“Don’t scare me like that again.” Shaking my head, I huffed a laugh.

A day later,and I’d survived the near-death experience of having my younger brother, Aaron, drive me home from the airport through a snowstorm.

He parked Dad’s BMW 5 series in the garage and turned to me, his blond hair curling over his brows, his blue eyes focusing on me. “See? We made it home, even with all your whining and foot stomping.” He cackled and climbed out of the car.

“You almost hit that guy at the stoplight. You have to pump the breaks when there’s ice on the road.” With a light smile, I shook my head. It was good to be home and back to the normal banter with him. After stepping out of the car, I ambled to the trunk and grabbed my suitcase and my duffel, setting the suitcase on the floor of the garage. “Hey, a little help here?” Lifting my brows, I watched him stop at the side door of the garage.

“Oh. Why do hockey players always have so much shit?” He freed a soft snort, jogged to my side, and then lifted the handle on my suitcase. “You’re practicing at the rink while you’re home, right? With that friend of yours that’s visiting over New Year’s?”

“Yep. He’s my other half on the team.” And in real life, but I’d get to that with the family when I came out to everyone. I slung my duffel over my shoulder and glanced at the snow floating down over the long driveway running up the side of the house and to this garage, tucked away in the back. The houses inmy neighborhood here in Somerville were all built in the early nineteen-hundreds, all three stories when you included the attics. “Hey, did Mom let you have the top floor all to yourself?” That used to be my room. But with me moving out, now I stayed in one of the guest rooms.

“She did.” He stopped and rapped his knuckles on my chest, his eyes narrowing. “Hey, Mom’s, uh, well, she’s having a flare-up.”

“Shit, she is?” How bad would it be this time? I scratched my brow, my gaze falling to my boots. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I faced him.

He shrugged. “Don’t know. I guess Dad didn’t want it to hurt your game now that your knee is better. He wants to see that agent of yours find a scout interested in you.” He bit the side of his lip. “Any prospects there?”

“No, not yet.” I’d been talking to Dean every week or so, and he’d had inquiries, but nothing solid. “My friend who’s coming to visit is doing a meet and greet with the Blackhawks tomorrow.”My friend…fuck, I didn’t like calling him that when he was so much more.

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