Page 162 of Of Pucking Course

“Incredible. Amazing. Awesome. Pretty much all the good words you can think of.”

Sasha smiles. “What do you owe your success to tonight?”

Xander skates over to me, grabs my face, and kisses my cheek.

“I love you, man.” He looks into the camera that’s filming my interview with Sasha. “I love this guy! MVP of the whole damn game! Woo!”

I burst out laughing as he skates off. Del, who’s standing a few feet away, rolls his eyes at Xander, but he’s smiling. He skates over and hugs me, then hugs his sister.

“Amazing goal, dude,” he says to me. He turns to Sasha. “Sorry to interrupt.” He skates off to hug Ingrid and his mom.

“I owe tonight’s win to a lot of things,” I say to Sasha. “My teammates, of course. We all worked really, really hard to get here. We owe a ton to our coach too. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him and the team’s incredible coaching staff.”

Blomdahl skates past me and pats my shoulder.

“And this guy. This guy was a rock star. He morphed into a brick wall,” I say, pointing to Blomdahl. He flashes a thumbs up and grins.

I turn back to Sasha. “We owe so much to every member of our staff too. Everyone played a partin this win.”

I look over at Dakota standing by my side. I squeeze her hand in mine.

“And most importantly my girlfriend,” I smile at her. “I wouldn’t be the man I am and the player I am without her.”

Dakota’s eyes are misty as she beams up at me. I press a kiss to her mouth.

The interview wraps up and I turn back to Dakota, hugging my arms around her. My heart feels like it’s going to explode. I’m so happy I can barely take it.

“So how do you want to celebrate?” She slinks her arms around my neck. That teasing smile that always drives me wild pulls at her pretty mouth. “Champagne? A huge party? A giant loaf of banana bread with cinnamon butter?”

“Anything as long as it’s with you, beautiful.”

Epilogue

Dakota

4 Months Later

It feels like my legs are about to fall off.

I pump my legs faster anyway, ignoring the burn in my lungs.

I focus on the cheers from the crowd at the Rocky Mountain Marathon to distract me.

“You’re almost there!”

“Finish line is less than a mile away!”

“You got this!”

Despite the agony my body is in, I smile at the crowd and keep jogging.

It’s my first race and I’m nearly done. Just another mile left.

I still can’t believe I’m actually about to finish my first half-marathon ever.

I couldn’t even run a mile without stopping. I’m the girl who people used to make fun of for not being athletic even though my brother is a professional athlete.

Now, I’m about to run just over thirteen miles.

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