Page 78 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
"I'll add that to my research notes," she teased, dropping a kiss on my chest. "Conclusion: mind-blowing sex is beneficial for ACL rehabilitation."
"Dr. Barnes might question your methodology."
"Dr. Barnes would absolutely question my methodology," Kate agreed with a laugh. "But the results speak for themselves."
I pulled her closer, overcome by a wave of emotion I couldn't quite name. This woman—brilliant, chaotic, fearless—had somehow become essential to me, as necessary as air.
"I love you," I said quietly, the words slipping out with surprising ease. Not "falling for you" this time, but the full declaration. "I love you, Kate Ellis."
Her body stilled against mine. When she lifted her head, her eyes were suspiciously bright. "I love you too, Austin Callahan. Even with your color-coded protein powders and ridiculous hockey superstitions."
"That's a relief," I said, my chest tight with an unfamiliar happiness. "Would've been awkward otherwise."
She smacked my chest lightly. "Way to ruin a perfectly romantic moment with your sarcasm."
I caught her hand, bringing it to my lips. "But you love me anyway."
Her smile was everything I never knew I needed. "God help me, I really do."
CHAPTER 19
KATE
The arena buzzed with a frenetic energy I'd never experienced before—a heady cocktail of anticipation, beer, and collective hope that made my skin tingle. The temperature dropped noticeably as we approached the players' family section, where Dennis's girlfriend Sarah waved me over.
"Kate! Over here!" She patted the empty seat beside her. "I saved you a spot with the best view."
I navigated through the row of glamorous women who seemed far too put-together for what was essentially watching sweaty men chase a rubber disc. I'd dressed carefully in Austin's team colors, though my attempt at "sporty casual" had resulted in what could best be described as "confused academic tries athleisure."
"First hockey game?" Sarah asked as I settled in, smoothing my oversized Blizzard jersey—Austin's, from last season.
"That obvious?"
"You've got that wide-eyed 'please don't let me embarrass myself' look." She handed me a beer. "Don't worry. I was thesame when Dennis and I were first dating. Now I can explain the offside rule better than the refs."
I took a grateful sip. "Austin explained the basics. Plus, I've been studying game footage and reading about strategic formations. The neutral zone trap is essentially just a defensive realignment to force turnovers at the blue line, right?"
Sarah stared at me. "Holy shit. You've done homework."
"I'm a scientist. Research is what I do."
The arena lights dimmed suddenly, and a spotlight hit the ice as the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. My heart leapt into my throat as the team skated out one by one.
"Number four, returning to the ice after six months, Austin 'Stone' Callahan!"
The crowd erupted, and I found myself on my feet, screaming with an enthusiasm that would have shocked my lab colleagues. Austin glided onto the ice, powerful and graceful in a way that sent a flush of heat through my body. Even from this distance, I could see the intensity in his posture—shoulders squared, head high, the slight hesitation in his left stride the only evidence of his injury.
"He looks good," Sarah said, nudging me. "Really good."
"Yes, he does," I murmured, not taking my eyes off him.
The game moved faster than I'd expected, a chaotic ballet of speed and precision that somehow still followed rules I was struggling to track. Austin played with controlled aggression, his defensive positioning exactly as he'd explained to me over dinner last week. When he bodychecked an opposing player, sending the guy sprawling across the ice, I found myself cheering wildly.
"Look at you, all hockey girlfriend," Sarah teased. "Next thing you know, you'll be yelling at the refs about missed penalties."
"That was clearly interference before the puck arrived," I said indignantly, pointing at a play near the boards. "The timing differential was at least half a second."
Sarah burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you're analyzing hockey with scientific precision. Dennis was right about you."
