Page 146 of Of Pucking Course

“For what?” I bite.

“For yelling at you. And for being a jerk. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

I look up and see two security guards. “I want this guy escorted out of here. Now.”

They nod and lead Henry’s dad up the stairs. Hedoesn’t put up a fight. He just quietly walks off, his head hanging.

I let out a breath, and that’s when I finally notice all the fans looking at me. Half of them are filming me on their phones.

My freakout will probably end up on social media. But honestly, I don’t care. All I care about is that Dakota is okay.

I turn around to look at her. That scared expression is gone. Instead, she’s smiling softly at me.

“Did you really just ditch warmups to defend me?” she asks, her tone soft and playful.

“Yup.” I hug her tight and kiss her forehead.

She beams up at me. Her eyes are bright. She looks happy now. That worry lingering inside of me fades completely.

She’s okay.

“I’ll never just stand there while some asshole harasses you, Dakota. Ever.”

Emotion flashes through her big, beautiful brown eyes. Then she tiptoes up and kisses me. Around us, fans holler and cheer. We chuckle as we break apart.

“You’d better get back out there,” she says.

I walk down the stairs and back onto the ice where the rest of my team is. They’re all standing around looking at me.

I clear my throat. “Sorry about that, guys,” I say to them.

“Never be sorry for protecting your girl,” Del says.

I look at him, heartened by his words. “Thanks.”

Warmup ends and I head back to the locker room with my team, ready to kick ass.

My lungs are on fire as I chase a Montreal player, who has possession of the puck, across the ice.

Only ninety seconds are left in the third period, and we’re tied two-to-two. Every second of this game has been a battle. They want to win just as badly as we do—they need to win this game just to stay in the playoffs.

They’ve been running our asses off the entire time we’ve been on the ice. I can tell they’re desperate. So are we.

I check the Montreal player, and the puck goes flying. Camden picks it up and takes off, but one of Montreal’s defensemen is on his ass so he doesn’t make it far.

I trail behind him to offer him some cover. He looks around for someone to pass it to, but none of our forwards are open.

He glances back and nods to me, then hits the puck through the legs of the Montreal defenseman covering him over to me.

I take it and race ahead to the Montreal net. Every muscle in my body aches from how hard I’ve been playing. Right now, it’s pure adrenaline that’s powering me through.

I instinctively look around for one of our centers to pass it to so they can take the shot, but no one’s near me.

As I close in on their goalie, I refocus. The seconds are ticking down. It’s up to me to make this goal—to win this for our team.

Nerves and anxiety fire off inside of me.

But then Dakota’s words from earlier echo in my head.

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