Page 104 of The One Night Dash
“Fucker’s gonna stay there, too,” Stone says as he skates by. He turns, skating backward, grinning with all the menace of a wolf with a fresh kill. “Am I right, or am I right?”
“You tell no lies, Stone!” I shout back.
He then slashes his stick through the ice, and it’s fucking on.
Second period is a blur of hits and near-misses, my lungs burning and my blood singing. I can hear Koa narrating our play-by-plays under his breath, a running commentary of the sickest chirps you’ll ever hear, and it’s working because I see their left wing bite on the fifth one, hack him in the ribs, and get sent to the box.
Rivera goes center and then left, takes the pass, and feeds it across to me, because no one expects it, and for a split-second, the world is just the puck, the net, and the pulse in my fingertips. I snap it, top shelf, clean past their goalie’s glove.
The horn blares, the bench erupts, and I raise my hands, not even bothering to hide the shit-eating grin on my face as we change shifts.
Back on the bench, Koa slams his helmet against mine, hard enough to shift my vision. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
TWENTY-FIVE
NOELLE
The Icehouse is buzzing, louder than usual, the kind of energy that only follows a win by one. The place is packed wall-to-wall with jerseys, fans still high off the game, and every table crammed with people talking too loudly over the music. I have always loved this energy.
Our crew claimed the “bunny tables”—the prime real estate right in front of the section the players always take over after home games. Not tonight. Sofie’s sharp elbows and Nalani’s death stare made sure of that. So, here we are, all of us shoulder-to-shoulder: me, Sof, Nalani, Claudia, my family and Dash’s, which still blows my mind.
My phone buzzes on the table, another text from Briar and Celeste, who keep sending photos they took from Sofie’s box at the arena, proof that our families blended tonight like we’ve been doing this for years. I can’t stop staring at the picture; I just can’t stop smiling. They’re all here. They’re all mine and his. No past trauma can take that away a future that seems like it was written in the stars. Stars so bright even bunny glares can’t dim them …
The roar goes up when the guys walk in, loud enough to rattle glasses on the bar. All of them in suits, all still wearing that game-day swagger, hair damp from quick showers, faces flushed from the high of the win.
Dash spots me first, eyes locking with mine. He pulls off his suit jacket, revealing a jersey, number one embroidered on the front. He winks as he walks by and …
“Oh my God,” Celeste gasps, smacking Briar’s arm. “Pembrooke!”
Briar’s already snapping photos, her grin so wide it has to hurt. “He wore your name! That’s not just hockey hottie material; that’s husband energy.”
Across the table, Nalani fans herself with the drink menu. “Okay, I take it back. Sterling might be my favorite after all.”
Sofie lets out a low whistle, leaning closer to me with a wicked smile. “Girl, if you don’t marry that man, I will. He’s the definition of book-boyfriend material, and he just turned it real.”
My mom’s cheeks are pink, her hand pressed to her mouth, but her eyes are shining. “He’s … he’s really something, Noelle.”
“Something?” Celeste laughs. “He’s everything. That’s a declaration, right there.”
I try to keep my cool, but my face is hot, my chest full, and my heart’s hammering. The bunnies at the next table can glare all they want. Let them. Because Dash Sterling just put my name on his back like a badge, like a vow.
I watch him send me a text.
Dash
That was all you. The rest, no less a declaration, but make no mistakes about it, it started with Noelle fucking Pembrooke.
I smile, although a bit confused.
Dash
Sweets, wait for it.
The rest of the guys walk in. Leo Stone strides by first, tugging his blazer free to reveal“RHODES”stitched across his back. Riley beams from our table, cheeks flushed, while the rest of us clap and holler.
Evan Smith is next, his jersey proud with“KOSTA”across it. His wife elbows him when he smirks, but she can’t hide how glassy her eyes go.
Then Theo Rivera, calm as ever, sheds his jacket.“PARK”stretches bold across his shoulders. A cheer goes up from his corner of the room.
