Page 96 of Skating to Him

The waiter dropped off our drinks, and we ordered some queso to share. It was too late for lunch and too early to be eating dinner, which we’d probably do during the game.

“So now we’ll see how well Boston does with Mexican food.” With a smirk, I sipped my drink, the whiskey mixing with fresh orange and lemon. “Damn, this is better here. The fruit in the drink tastes like it’s freshly squeezed.”

“It is.” Teddy tilted his head, eyeing me. “You consider queso as Mexican food?” He chuckled.

I shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it’s close. I’m just curious how hot it’s going to be.” I leaned in. “Because in Arizona, it seems like everything’s got some amount of hot peppers in it.”

“He’s right.” Rowan nodded, skimming his thumb over the top of my hand. “Even when you order mild, there’s some spice.”

“Even in the hockey players?” Teddy freed a soft snort.

“Especially in the hockey players.” Rowan kissed my cheek. “Even though he’s originally from Chicago.”

People piled into the bar, and it filled to capacity while thebartenders put the game on all the televisions and the house speakers.

“This is going to be insane. You just watch.” Rowan wagged his brows at me.

The waiter dropped off our queso and left.

Two drinks later,the Maple Leafs were holding their own with a tied game at two to two toward the end of the second period. Jonah had been crazy on the ice, checking players and grabbing an assist for one of the goals. The people in the bar were insane, shouting and jumping around when the Bruins scored while booing for the Leafs. I’d done my best to hold down my excitement at watching Jonah play so well, but with each drink, it was getting harder.

Rowan held tightly to my hand. “This better not end in sudden death.”

“Naw, not with Boehm out there shooting so well.” I smiled as Rowan’s gaze flicked to mine. The Leafs had seven more shots on goal than the Bruins.

On the television, Boehm hit a Bruins D-man and twisted while he snatched the puck from him. As he broke away down the outside of the rink, skating lightning fast, the bar erupted in noise.

“Go, Boehm. You got this.” I jiggled my leg and sipped my third Ward 8 drink, fixating on the game.

Boehm passed to his center and scrambled toward the net. The center shot to Boehm, and he angled his stick.

With a fast ricochet off Boehm’s blade, the puck flew at the Bruins goalie, hit his chest and came backward.

Shoving his stick toward the puck, Boehm dropped to the ice, face first. The puck slid through the goalie’s legs, and the horn blew.

“Fuckin’ A! Right through the five hole!” I hopped out of myseat. “That’s how you do it, Boehm. Fuck yeah!” I pumped my fist in the air, jumping up and down and laughing.

The bar went silent, everyone staring at me.

I dropped my mouth open, scanning the angry faces looking my way. “Oh shit.”

With a stuttered laugh, Rowan stood and patted me on the back. “Good for your buddy.” Grabbing my shoulder and looking around the room, he pushed me into my seat. “He’s, uh, we both play for Arizona State. Boehm is a good friend of his. They won the Championship together last year.”

A large older man in a Bruins jersey stepped to us. “It was an incredible goal. You should be proud of your friend.” He patted me on the back. “And who are you?”

“My name’s Tyler Hodge, sir.” With my pulse racing, I swallowed hard.

“Hodge…do you have a brother who plays for New York?” The man eyed me.

“I do. Nathan. I just left him in Chicago before I came out here.” I worried my lower lip.

“To be with your boyfriend?” A smile played over the man’s lips.

“Yes, to be with my boyfriend and to see what a wonderful city Boston is.” I was laying it on thick now, but the guy didn’t seem too pissed off at me.

“Well, we’re proud to have you boys here.” The man held up his hand to the bartender. “Bring these young hockey players a Ward 8 on me. I have a feeling we’ll be watching them on the ice soon enough.”

A few in the crowd whooped, and the attention in the bar went back to the game.

---