Page 141 of Lucky Laces
And now we’re here.
Game one.The Cup in sight.
My woman on the battlefield beside me.
And a surprise on the horizon.
Because DeeDee may not need romance, but I’ve still taken every chance over the last six months to prove it to her.
So, even though I know what’s coming, even though I want to find a shadowy alcove and kiss her senseless, I just bump her shoulder with mine and murmur, “Ernest is probably ordering Jean-Michel around and consuming his bodyweight in popcorn.He’s good.”
She glances up at me, bouncing nervously.“You’re right.He’s good.I’m good.”A nod.“We’reall good.”
The warmup music starts playing and she jerks, teeth pressing into the corner of her mouth again.
“We’re all good,” I agree.
And the team is.
Dee and Jean-Michel—thanks to some help from Kailey’s magical scouting program—were able to move Pat not long after he went public with his “grievances.”
Suffice to say, he didn’t endear himself with the public.
And he definitely didn’t make it easy on his new teammates.
If he secures another contract after this one runs out, I’ll be really fucking surprised.
Whathassurprised me?
Duncan and Kane.They’re not perfect team players but Pat’s trade threw them for a loop and they’ve really pulled it together.
I hate to say I’m proud of them.
But…I’m proud of them—most especially of their contributions on the ice.
I’m also proud of myself.
I may not be a young kid with a fuckton of neuroplasticity (a fun term I learned during my occupational therapy sessions), but I’m managing my dyslexia.
I’m reading.I’m learning strategies and techniques to make it easier.
And most importantly, I’m not giving up.
The lights come on, the music rises to a crescendo, and the line of players in front of me starts to move, the guys rushing out onto the ice, their jitters and excitement mingling, hyping everyone up further.I don’t immediately follow them and Dee, fidgeting in the suit her grandmother bought her, is standing right beside me, lost in thought again, her nerves practically palpable as she .
I get it.
This shit is the pinnacle.
And Dee is the one who’s going to lead us through it.
But she’s also wound so fucking tight, she’s not enjoying it, not at all.
Hence the romance—just a little dash of it.
“DeeDee baby,” I murmur, catching her arm before she and I fully exit the tunnel.
She stops, eyes coming to mine.“Are you ok—” She gasps.
