Page 92 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
"But?"
I turned in his arms, rising on tiptoes to kiss him. "But you're worth it. Besides, if they want to follow my life so badly, they're about to get an education in microbiology they never asked for."
As we left the hotel room, I felt strangely lighter.
CHAPTER 24
AUSTIN
Istood in the empty visitors' locker room, methodically taping my stick—left to right, heel to toe, perfect overlapping strips. The ritual calmed my mind, silencing the cacophony of doubts that had plagued me since my injury. Tonight's game against Chicago wasn't just another match—it was the make-or-break point of our playoff hopes.
My phone buzzed. Tom's name flashed on the screen, and I almost ignored it. Pre-game was sacred time.
"This better be important," I answered, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continued taping.
"Would I interrupt your voodoo stick ritual if it wasn't?" Tom's voice held an unusual excitement. "Got an offer you won't believe. MedEdge Sports Medicine wants both you and Kate for their new recovery science campaign."
My hands froze mid-tape. "Both of us? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Their CEO saw that viral post of you two—her in the lab coat, you in hockey gear. They're launching a whole linebased on scientific recovery methods. They want Kate's research expertise paired with your comeback story."
"You serious?" I set my stick down, giving Tom my full attention.
"Stone, this isn't just another protein powder endorsement. This is legitimacy for both of you. Equal billing. Research funding for her, long-term partnership for you. They specifically said they want 'the scientist and the athlete' together."
A laugh escaped me—sharp and disbelieving. "She's going to lose her mind."
"In a good way, I hope. The numbers are... substantial."
"It's not about the money, Tom. This is exactly what she needs—recognition that bridges our worlds."
I could practically hear Tom's bewilderment through the phone. "Who are you and what have you done with Stone Callahan? You used to negotiate every comma in a contract."
"Kate's changed things," I admitted, surprised by my own candor.
"No shit." Tom chuckled. "So, you want the details now or after you crush Chicago?"
"After. And don't call Kate—I want to tell her myself."
"Your call. Just don't get so distracted thinking about your girlfriend that you forget how to play hockey."
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, shaking my head but smiling. "Just send the damn package."
After hanging up, I sat staring at my half-taped stick, a strange lightness expanding in my chest. Six months ago, I'd been a one-dimensional athlete with a potentially career-ending injury. Now I was part of something bigger—something that valued both my physical abilities and the unexpected partnership with the brilliant chaos tornado who'd blown into my life.
"Fifteen minutes, Callahan!" Coach Martinez's voice echoed from the hallway.
I quickly finished my taping ritual, letting muscle memory take over while my mind drifted to how I'd tell Kate. Would she be thrilled? Overwhelmed? Concerned about academic perceptions?
The door banged open as Dennis strutted in, already in full gear except for his helmet.
"You look weirdly happy for a guy about to face Chicago's defense," he observed, dropping onto the bench beside me. "Let me guess—science girl sent you dirty texts about bacterial reproduction?"
"Would you shut up about my girlfriend's texting habits?" I shoved his shoulder. "Some of us are trying to prepare mentally."
"Mental preparation, my ass. You've got that dopey 'Kate did something' look." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Seriously though, you good for tonight? Knee solid?"
The question carried unexpected weight coming from Dennis, who typically avoided sincerity like a penalty box.
