Page 69 of Pucking Knox
The draft floor buzzes with energy. Prospects and families fill the seats, dreams hanging in the balance. I spot Kennedy immediately, sitting pristinely beside her father in the family section.
She doesn't acknowledge me. Doesn't even glance my way.
Game on, Princess.
The first round starts. Names get called. Families celebrate. I try not to fidget as picks pass without my name.
"Knox Thompson."
Finally. Late second round – lower than projected before my combine confession, but higher than I feared after.
As I walk to the stage, I catch Kennedy's eye. She gives me the tiniest smile, there and gone like a secret.
Good boy, that smile says.You earned this.
Heat floods my body. Because this is how it's been – her subtle rewards when I prove myself. Her careful distance when I don't. Her perfect control making me want to earn every touch, every look, every moment she lets her guard down.
"Welcome to the Bruins," the GM says as I pull on the black and gold jersey.
Cameras flash. Scouts congratulate me. All I can focus on is Kennedy in the crowd, looking proud and proper and absolutely edible.
Later, at the celebration dinner, she maintains her distance. Sits with her father, makes polite conversation, plays her role perfectly.
But her foot finds mine under the table during speeches.
"Proud of you," Ace says quietly as we head back to the hotel. "For working through the combine shit. For..." He gestures vaguely. "Not throwing it all away."
"We good?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
He's quiet for a long moment. "Don't push it."
He squeezes my shoulder.
"Seriously though." I push because I have to. "Are we okay?"
He considers this. "Getting there. Just... whatever she decides? I'll respect it. And you should too."
"Yeah," I agree as he disappears to talk to some of the other guys.
I inhale because I've got plans now – real ones. Training camp in two months. Apartment hunting closer to the Garden. Maybe graduate classes to stay close while Kennedy finishes school. Sheis younger than I am, so I have to figure this shit out, so I don’t lose her.
My phone buzzes with a text from Kennedy.
Kennedy: Congratulations on the draft, Mr. Thompson.
So formal. So proper. So fucking hot.
Another text follows.
Kennedy: I hear second round picks have to work extra hard to prove themselves.
I grin at my phone. Because this is her new game – making me earn every moment. Making me prove I deserve her trust again.
Making me crazy in the best way.
"I'm turning in," Ace announces. "Try not to do anything stupid."
Too late.
