Page 85 of No Rhyme or Roughing
At the first extended break,I lined up with nine of my teammates, and the roar of the arena was deafening. The crowd knew what was coming.
Glancing to the side, I spotted Sullivan holding Guardian, which was a little weird. The rest of our teammates sat on the bench, looking just as enthralled as our fans.
But I couldn’t find her.
Sydney wasn’t standing at the glass where I expected to see her. I scanned the stands, but it was impossible to pick anyone out in the packed arena.
The screams grew louder as a figure stepped onto the ice, a guitar slung over one shoulder and a microphone in hand.
Beside me, Teddy leaned in and said, “That was me. I got him here.”
Jameson Rhys skated toward center ice. Of course he could fucking skate. My stomach churned. Had Sydney called in a favor for her brother? She’d gotten in touch with her ex again?
Sure, this would send our video into the stratosphere, but all I could focus on was the burning in my chest.
Why had he come to perform at a minor league hockey game?
“Hello,” he growled into the microphone. Growled. What the heck?
What happened next left me no time to think. He started playing the song we’d practiced to, and I was a step behind matching my teammates. Chaos erupted around me—the screaming fans, the rock star on the ice, Shai skating the rink’s perimeter in her golden retriever costume.
I saw her take Guardian from Sullivan at the bench, and then it happened—the impossible.
The noise got even louder. Deafening.
That was when I saw her.
Sydney stepped onto the ice, camera in hand, focused on us. My movements turned automatic, robotic, as I watched her switch between filming us, the crowd, and Shai with Guardian.
But I only saw her.
I’d been looking for her all day, desperate to talk, to make sure she was okay after last night.
Her avoidance had been answer enough; she wasn’t.
As I danced, I tried to catch her eye, but she was stubborn, her focus unwavering. We might save the team tonight, but none of it mattered to me at that moment.
Not unless I got to kiss her again, to feel her soft skin against mine. Flashes of last night consumed my thoughts—Sydney pressed against the shower wall, her wet hair sticking to her face, her legs wrapped tightly around me.
I stumbled, my concentration shot. My arms pinwheeled, but it was useless. I hit the ice hard, right in front of Sydney and her camera.
She caught it all.
Before I could recover, Guardian leapt from Shai’s arms and landed awkwardly on the ice. His legs splayed out, and he slid straight into me.
Warmth. Wetness.
It hit my hand seconds before I realized what had happened. Guardian had peed on me. The yellow puddle quickly spread across the ice between my legs.
A laugh burst out of Sydney. “Um, we’ll cut that part.”
Guardian bolted toward the rest of the guys, who were still dancing, as I locked eyes with Sydney. When the music ended, she looked away.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but a raspy voice from behind interrupted.
“Syd, it’s damn good to see you.”
Jameson stepped over me, his guitar still slung across his back, and approached her. Without hesitation, he pressed a firm kiss to her lips. The same lips I’d tasted the night before.
