Kami

These. Seats. Are. Amazing.

I’ve been to dozens—hundreds?—of Thrusters games over the years, but I’ve never sat right here. At the edge of the rink.

Watching my boyfriend play.

Oh, I’ve watched Nick play plenty, wishing he was my boyfriend, but tonight—I think he really is.

“Ohmygod!” Muffy flings herself back in her seat as Zeus shoves a Minnesota player into the boards right in front of us, pivots, and takes off again like a demon on blades, chasing the puck before Nick has to stop it.

“Shew, those boys are hot.” Aunt Hilda fans herself.

Alina’s dark brown eyes meet mine, and her lips twitch in an amused smile. “How many more sets of tickets do you have?” she asks me.

“Twenty-seven. I think only six of them are front row, but the others are really good too. None more than third—Oh! BLOCK IT! GET IT—phew.”

I sink back into my own seat next to Muffy.

That was close.

I thought Minnesota was going to score.

But Ares and Manning are driving the puck toward Minnesota’s goal now, and Nick’s still holding steady.

He hasn’t looked this way since the game started. Not even when they left the ice between the first and second periods. He was downing water and talking to the goaltender coach, brows drawn together, sweat dripping off him.

And there I go getting all warm and excited between my thighs.

My phone dings. It’s Mom—she’s watching the game from the box she and Dad get every year, and she wants to know how my view is.

I’m not sure what I text her back, because I drop my phone when Minnesota goes on a breakaway, heading straight for Nick, unopposed because Zeus and Sokolov are caught off-guard, which means it’s just the big bad Minnesota guy and Nick, and—

And oh my god, how does he stretch his body that fast? He’s like a freaking panther on the ice, dodging and lunging and dropping and deflecting the puck so fast, it takes me a minute to find it again.

“This is so fucking awesome,” Muffy breathes.

She’s clutching her puck to her heart, and I don’t know if it’s intentional or not. I’m too busy watching the game to see if she’s watching Jaeger flying over the ice, or if she’s watching all of it.

“Kami, you know I love you,” Alina starts, and I tear my gaze off the action on the ice to glance at her cautiously as she continues, “but I’m starting to wonder if you might need to take one for the team and just sleep with Nick until he retires, because he’s fucking hot tonight.”

“That…wouldn’t exactly be a hardship,” I tell her.

“Does he want kids?”

I sigh. “He knows I do, but we haven’t really talked about it.”

“If you want kids and he doesn’t, you have two options,” Muffy informs us. “One, get yourself accidentally knocked up, which I don’t recommend, because hello, problems. Or, two, discuss with him if he’s willing to get you pregnant and you promise to do all the heavy lifting if he really doesn’t want to be a dad. Also not really a great option, but you have all of us to help you out, so there’s that.”

I don’t really like either option, but seeing as even when I was hanging out with Maren at Chester Green’s and wasn’t really feeling anything beyond amusement at the men hitting on us, I don’t know that my body would even let me be attracted to anyone else.

So I need to decide.

Do I want to be with Nick, even if he never wants to get married and have kids, or do I need to press the issue and find out if he’s willing to consider permanence? Since we’ve barely started dating publicly, it seems like a question that can wait a week or two.

I’m spared from continuing the conversation because Duncan Lavoie is sent to the penalty box for elbowing, which is such a bullshit call, because that other player was ten times worse. “Open your eyes!” I yell as Alina and Aunt Hilda boo. “He almost had his head taken off!”

Duncan’s pissed. He throws his stick on the ground and stares sullenly at the game, muttering what appear to be several words I try not to use in front of my dogs.

Also?

My heart’s in overdrive, because this is when Nick’s most vulnerable.

When the other team’s on a power play.

I grab Muffy’s hand without realizing I’ve done it and watch Minnesota charge toward Nick.

“He’s got it. He’s got it,” I mutter to myself.

But this is when he’s been scored on most this season.

We’re up three-nothing. We’re in a good spot, but I want so badly for Nick to get a shutout.

And not just because I teased him about sleeping with him if he does, but because I think he needs it for his confidence.

I hold my breath. Everyone’s charging the crease. Nick’s there, squatting low, thighs and knees moving, ready to drop or dive, one man against seven.

Holding his ground.

Minnesota shoots.

Nick deflects it with his stick.

They go for the puck again, but Zeus digs it out and sends it up to Manning Frey, who takes off, and all of my breath whooshes out.

And we’re only fifteen seconds into the penalty.

“He’s got this, Kami,” Alina tells me. “This is championship Nick Murphy.”

She’s right, of course.

He’s a pro.

He had a rocky start to the season, but he’s sharp tonight. It’s like he’s more aware of the game. More determined. More driven.

I suppress a smile while my nipples tighten under my fleece vest.

Or maybe, he’s just a little more motivated.

I’m motivated to want him to win. Because if last night was a preview of his idea of makeup sex…

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Aunt Hilda says, “but if I were dating a hot young thing like that goaltender, you bet your britches I’d be thinking it too.”

“Don’t ever say that in front of Felicity,” I say, eyes glued to the hockey players zipping by on the ice. Someone takes a long shot, but Nick easily catches it in his glove and tosses it to Sokolov.

“Honey, given who she sleeps with, I don’t think it would bother her to know you’re settling for second best.”

“She’s related to him.”

“That’s why he’s seventh best.”

I don’t bother arguing, either about her changing the number or any other part of her wrongness, because I suspect she’s just trying to see if she can get my goat.

Duncan’s finally sprang from the sin bin, and Nick’s still holding Minnesota off.

And now I can take a full breath again.

“Does Felicity get this exhausted every game?” I ask Alina. “It doesn’t seem like she does.”

“She’s been doing this a lot more years than we have.” She nods to Nick, who’s so into the game, tracking the play at the other goal, he might as well be in a different building. “She worries about him too, but she’s never known any different. And Ares—”

The rest of her words are drowned out by the entire arena collectively shoving to their feet and screaming as Ares knocks in another goal seconds before the buzzer sounds to end the second period.

Muffy and Aunt Hilda are hugging and jumping up and down, making Muffy’s braids whip all about. The Thrusters head off the ice for the break between periods, but this time, I get a sly grin from Mr. Goaltender himself.

And yes, my heart flutters, my breasts tingle, and everything below my belly button tightens up in a thick, delicious coil of anticipation that makes my panties wet.

“Oh, honey,” Alina murmurs. “You have got it bad.”

I do.

And I don’t think I mind one bit.