Page 95 of The Puckable Playbook

“That ranks up there, but there’s more. I can feel it.”

She shrugs. “Too bad I’m stubborn and won’t ever admit it.”

Turning, she whisks away again, and I laugh to myself. It’s so easy with her. There are no hidden meanings behind her words. No riddles or tests I have to figure out. She wears her heart on her sleeve. She says what she means, and the fact it’s a breath of fresh air is ridiculous but worth its weight in gold.

She squeals, the sound sending my heart racing. I jump out of the bed. “Are you okay?”

I nearly fall on my ass trying to maneuver around the corner of the bed. I’m steps away from the bathroom when she appears in the doorway. Grabbing the doorframe, I have to put the brakes on so I don’t accidentally slam into her.

She grins, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “You scared the crap out of me. I thought you were hurt.”

“I have good news.”

My brain winds down from alarm mode so I can finally take in my surroundings. She’s standing in front of me in nothing but a black lace bra and shorts. I swallow. “Is it that you look amazing in this outfit? Not that I’d want you wearing it outside the apartment.”

I step toward her, but she stops me with a hand to my chest. “It’s bigger than that.”

“Nothing is bigger than you.” My mouth goes dry as soon as the words leave because I realize how true they really are. I’m falling for this girl, so fast, so freaking hard. She’s…everything.

She also isn’t looking at me, and instead, is staring at her phone.

My stomach squeezes. If she knew the thoughts racing through my head right now, she’d probably drop her phone in a heartbeat. I open my mouth to tell her, but she says, “Remember when we had that discussion about doing anything we could so you could live out your hockey dream?”

I nod.

“Shortly thereafter, I threw myself into research mode, and I found a few things out.”

“Yeah?”

“Around that same time, I wrote your coach an email asking him for all your game tape, and…” she draws out the word, “he’s given me access to the online files! Zaiah, do you know what this means?”

I blink at her, thoughts swirling through my head.

“We’re going to make you a press package.” She touches my nose with her fingertip. “We’re going to gather your best plays, best attributes, I can even record you doing practice drills if that isn’t in here, and then we’re going to apply to AHL teams.”

My legs bow underneath me, and I grip the doorframe for support. “You…did this? For me?”

She nods, her fingers wrapped around what she thinks is the gift. My game tape. But she doesn’t understand it’s more than that. It’s the way she believes in me. It’s the way she’s gone out on a limb to show me that she thinks I’m more than what I am.

“Lenore, you’re—” I break off, three words tumbling through my head, but I don’t want to say them and freak her out. Butthe truth is, she’s the trophy at the end of a long life. I could be playing hockey, I could be coaching it from the sidelines or owning a team like her father, or I could be plain old Isaiah James, working for someone else, but if I have her, I’ll be rich.

“Amazing? Smart? Talented?”

“All of those things.”

She thrusts the phone in front of me. “You should see what your coach wrote.”

I read his words, rubbing my chest.

Dear Ms. Robertson,

I appreciate your email and am happy to share whatever the team has on Zaiah. He’s a talented young man who hasn’t been given a fair shot. If I’m honest, I should have kicked him off the team a few years ago so he could blossom. I’d be happy to make some connections myself and will start brainstorming.

Thank you for your support,

Coach

A momentof pure awe swallows me whole. “He sees it too?”

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