Page 123 of Lucky Shot
“I don’t think he ever did. But yeah, he likes you.”
“Maybe I’ll find it in me to like him one day. I’m not feeling so generous today.” I give Demi a sly smile. “Maybe I can be convinced.”
Demi grins and pulls me up the front steps. He punches in the keycode and lets us in. We kick off our shoes and then he’s suddenly sweeping me off my feet. I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck. “There are so many things I plan to convince you of, but Sid is definitely not going to be something we’re thinking about.”
I grin as he moves through the space. While I don’t look around, I get the overwhelming feeling of home. This is home.
THIRTY-SEVEN
ELIXON
One year later
I lurch to my feet,cheering loudly as Noah’s shot streaks past Felton and hits the net. His team crowds around him, wrapping him in their arms and hitting his helmet. But my man, he swivels in their hold until he spots me behind the clear wall. I grin, my pride feeling like heat radiating off me.
The little circle breaks apart and they get back into position for the next puck drop. Reluctantly, I take my seat again. I could have gotten a box or whatever, but I really enjoy being right up at the boards where I can see Pretty clearly. And he can see me.
I haven’t missed a single home game. I’m always right here, next to the home team’s box. Cheering on my man.
As my retirement got closer, I thought for sure that when the next season came around, I’d be upset. I’d long for the sport. For the ice. For any part of it.
It’s strange that I didn’t. Maybe because all my energy is focused on watching Pretty in everything he does. He’s a fucking gorgeous man and I swear, he just gets better and better with each game. His skill improves exponentially.
Everything about it is sexy as fuck.
Last season ended with Edmonton and Florida making it to the playoffs in our divisions. We both made it 1-3 before being disqualified. Same game. Same date. I wasn’t even mad. As soon as all our obligations were over, I was on a plane to Miami.
He was waiting at the airport for me and after we had our greeting during which he wrapped himself around me once again, he gave me a very strange look but refused to say anything until we were in the car.
Then he laid it on me. He was traded just after the last game. Which he thought was odd timing, but he didn’t really care. “I know we have plans this summer but I think we’re going to need to spend some time on the West Coast. I’m going to LA.”
There was then a moment of insecurity on his part because he was unsure that I’d still want to go with him. As if his position in Miami was what mattered to me at all.
And thus, after our annual yacht trip, we headed to LA and began scouting out places to live.
Last summer was fantastic. So much of it felt like we were actually getting to build our lives together. I wasn’t moving into his house; we were looking for our first home. Together. As a couple. There was no flying back and forth between commitments, which meant we could hide away and spend as much time together as possible while the end of summer date loomed ahead.
It was a freeing feeling, knowing that when the next season began, we weren’t going to be in separate places. He’ll come home to me almost every single fucking day. Even the string of away games wasn’t bad. Not when we both knew that it was justdaysthat kept us apart. Not weeks or months.
Everything feels like an entirely different world.
I watch the rest of LA’s game against Winnipeg. Noah has a good time teasing Felton about his team getting spanked. Felton rolls his eyes, but I watch as they hug before getting off the ice. We have plans to meet up with him for dinner later, as we always do. But this was an afternoon game so we have some time to kill… and I have plans for my man.
I make my way to the room where VIP ticket holders and whoever else managed to score a spot to wait for my Pretty. I don’t have to wait long before he’s in my arms, hugging me as he does after every home game.
Tangling my fingers into the back of his damp hair, they brush against his collar. I grin, burying my face in his hair. He rarely takes off whatever collar I put on him after his morning shower unless it’s for practice or a game. Otherwise, he wears it. Completely visible.
In fact, he never removes his collar unless it’s for hockey. Only I do. At his demand, I’m the one who controls the collars.
I love it more every single fucking day. Every time I see his face in the news or on social media and he has my collar around his neck, I get all short of breath, tingly, and ridiculously giddy. He’s mine. This man is mine. I have no idea how I managed that.
Pretty takes a step back and touches my cheek with his hand. I catch a glimpse of his gold nail polish.
He’s becoming more comfortable in his skin these days. While the dresses are just for us, something we share in private, he’s becoming more confident with expressing what he likes. His collars were first. Then came the nail polish. I happen to know that he sometimes wears his lacy underwear under his clothing. Not for my benefit, but because he’s finally owning who he is. He’s finding his confidence and embracing his identity.
“You played an epic game today,” I tell him.
He grins. “Bad Cock is going to drown in his soup later. I’m not going to stop razzing him all through dinner.”
