Page 25 of Pipe Dreams
“It might be nothing,” Nate said. “He probably wants to hear the penalty called, and give his guys a moment to breathe before they restart play.”
She processed her boss’s words, but her gaze would not budge from the ice. All the adrenaline of the moment hit her like poison. Her stomach ached, and her head spun.
“Lauren.” Nate prodded her elbow. “Breathe.”
She whipped her chin in his direction. It washisfault that she was sitting here, witnessing any of this. This wasn’t her life anymore. Mike Beacon wasn’t her cause, damn it! Nathan made a calm gesture toward the ice. “There he goes.”
When Lauren looked down again, Mike was already putting a hand on the ice and pushing himself up.
She didn’t relax until he shook himself and got to his feet. The linesman conferred with the ref, and a penalty was called.
“Nathan,” she demanded in a low voice. “Why am I here?”
“Because the team needs your help,” he replied immediately. “And two years is a long time to miss out on hockey.”
“I was just fine without hockey,” she pointed out.
Nathan raised an eyebrow, looking so smug she felt like strangling him. “No matter how often you say otherwise, you love hockey.”
Seriously?“Please tell me I’m not here right now because you were staging some kind of intervention. That’s fucked up, Nathan.”
His eyes went back to the surface of the ice, where the puck was in play once again. “It would be more convenient if you were afraid of me like everyone else is.”
“Good luck with that.”
He snickered. “Your boy is back in action.”
“He’s not my boy.”
Nathan didn’t argue. His attention had already turned back to the team, which was enjoying a power play thanks to the penalty called against the player who took out Mike.
With a shaking hand, Lauren took a deep pull of her water.I hate hockey, she reminded herself.And Mike Beacon is nothing to me. But the sight of his body lying still on the ice had made her feel cold inside. Damn him.
And now she was eyeing the clock, wondering if the Bruisers could capitalize on the power play. Feeling the old pull.
There were less than three minutes left, and they would decide her fate for the next two weeks. If the Bruisers scored, it was on to the conference semifinals in another city—another seven-game series. A hundred more chances to feel the weight of Mike Beacon’s eyes on her in airport terminals, buses and hotel lobbies.
Or.
If they couldn’t clinch the series tonight or in the next two games, it would all be over. A week from tonight she could be back at her desk in Manhattan, worrying about Nate’s next international software trade show.
Why did that sound disappointing all of a sudden?
She risked another glance at the rink, where Leo Trevi was making a new charge at the opponent’s net. Defenders scrambled into place, but Trevi snapped the puck back to Castro, then evaded the player who tried to check him.
Lauren went completely still inside. Then, with two minutes and forty-two seconds left on the clock, Trevi received the puck again, quickly passing backward to team captain O’Doul.
Who flipped the biscuit into the basket.
O’Doul’s girlfriend, Ari, let out an earsplitting shriek of joy as the lantern lit behind D.C.’s goalie. The stadium went nuts, some fans moaning and others hooting with victory.
Lauren stared at the scoreboard as the goal became official. The Bruisers were a few cautious minutes away from going on to round two.
Beside her, Nate rubbed his hands together. He didn’t yell or even smile because the game wasn’t officially over yet.
It was, though. Lauren knew in her gut that Brooklyn would advance. And she was stunned to realize she was a little thrilled by the idea. Nate and this team had worked so hard for two years to rebuild the franchise.
Not that I care, Lauren reminded herself as the puck dropped on the next faceoff.
