Page 64 of Cross the Line
“Right,” I nod.
“It’s a family tradition to have Christmas in Aspen. The markets are great, and all the snow is so perfectly picturesque…” Andie leans in. “And you’re family now, so really, you don’t get a choice. Jonathan would drag you there if I didn’t. JJ thinks I’m pushy, but The Sire is hands-on and he will take prisoners.”
“I’ve never been to Aspen,” I say as the steam-room door opens and an older woman walks in.
Andie squeezes my hand and rests her head on my shoulder. “Well, that’s settled then—Christmas in Aspen it is.”
CHAPTER 18
JAYDEN
The fact that we held a draw all the way through to a shootout is immense. Winning the shootout three penalty shots to one has adrenaline pumping hard as hell as we get on the bus back to the hotel.
“Fuck, yeah, assholes,” Matheo cheers when Coach starts the debrief. “That’s how you fucking do it!”
Andersen and Reinhardt add to his chorus, making it impossible for Coach to talk. I don’t think he cares, given how amped up the team is. After the last few games where we’ve struggled with our momentum, it feels damn good to be back in tune with each other.
“Tired?” I ask Eli as he sinks further into his seat, a Fury-branded travel cushion around his neck, looking set to pass out.
“Yeah,” he replies with a groan. “Torres got me good.”
My teeth grind at his statement. I knew he was downplaying it when he saw me get into it with the fucker, and I should’ve followed through with the beating he deserved.
“How good?” I look him over, clocking the way he’s keeping his neck straight.
“Nothing some Motrin and a few stretches won’t fix.” Eli slowly turns his neck, giving me a tender smile. “I’m good, JJ.”
“Promise.”
“Cross my heart,” he croons, leaning closer and whispering, “Sunshine.”
Stunned, I watch him relax back into his seat again, putting in noise-control earplugs as he closes his eyes, like he’s been using the endearment forever, and this is how we’ve always been.
Fuck, I’m smiling so big it hurts when Matheo hands me the rocket for man of the match, nodding at Eli.
“He earned it,” he tells me, holding out his fist.
“Yeah, he fucking did.” I bump it, reveling in the overwhelming pride filling my chest as I clutch the stuffed rocket tighter.
Swear to God I’m going to burst any second with all the emotions vibrating inside me as I sit back and watch Eli snooze, perfectly peacefully, while we wait for the bus to leave the Fury’s arena.
We’re on the road to the hotel, lights dim, chatter rising and falling in pockets, when Eli’s hand pushes into mine beneath the rocket. Warm fingers lace with mine, and as I turn my face to him, I’m met with a closed-eye, super-happy-with-himself grin that makes my brain fall to pieces.
Holy fuck, he’s going to be the death of me, and I don’t mind one single bit.
***
The hotel baris empty when we get back. We don’t often celebrate road wins with drinks, but tonight, it’s needed.
The team’s vibe is electric when I grip Eli’s wrist and tug him along with me, behind Matheo.
Momma and Dad left right after the game and drove Fin and Christina back to the hotel. It’s always bittersweet when they come to watch me play and then leave. Normally, a pang of sadness lives in my chest for days.
Not tonight.
Tonight, my chest is filled with a relentless throb to set eyes on Fin. To hold her and share every ounce of adrenaline and pride pounding through my veins.
“What are you doing?” Eli asks when I guide him to the booth where Dylan and Auguste are already seated and pull out my phone.
