I think I’ve fallen for her.
But I can’t think of her right now. I have a game to win. I focus in just as Chandler gets the puck. He holds it, his eyes moving like crazy as he tries to set up the play. A forward comes toward him, so he passes it out to his partner, Kurri, who holds it once more. He sends it back to Chandler, who shoots…but misses the goal completely. I don’t know why he does that. He was drafted early; shouldn’t he know how to hit the net by now? The puck moves up the boards and Kurri tries to stop it, but the bugger jumps over his blade. One of the forwards is in the right place at the right time, and he’s off.
Coming right for me.
Bring it.
I square up, watching every single inch of his body. I can usually tell if they’ll go top shelf by the positioning of their back leg. By the looks of it, this dude has no clue what he is going to do. He’s coming in hot, though. I watch the puck, ready, and when he pulls his stick back, I think he’s gonna slap it. What an idiot. Like I expect, he slaps it, and I block it with my blocker. Unfortunately, the damn thing rebounds right back on the asshole’s stick. I guess he was hoping for that because his back leg slides, and I know he is going top shelf. When I swallow the puck with my glove, I stand up, towering over the guy as the few IceCats fans cheer.
The Sharks guy is not happy. “Fuck.”
“Maybe next time,” I call, and then I chuckle. “But probably not.”
I mean, not to be cocky, but I know I’m that good.
* * *
I let in two power play goals, but in my defense, our defense was sucking. I don’t know what is going on with our second defense pair, but they need to get their shit together. Thankfully, our boys put up four goals, so we won. Yet, those two goals haunt me. I sit at the front of the plane, my legs stretched out toward the wall with my head hanging over the back of the seat. Usually, the front is for coaches and media, but the first row is mine. They know I don’t do confined spaces, and the guys… I love them, but there is too much stimulation back there. If they aren’t talking about the game, they’re talking about hot chicks. And then the video games—I shudder at the thought. Way too much stimulation. Don’t get me wrong, I love me a game of Mario Kart or even Call of Duty, but with the full plane, and then the lights… Yeah, it messes with me.
I exhale heavily, and when I feel someone fall into the seat beside me, I open my eyes.
Chandler is staring at me. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
He hooks his thumb to the back. “I think we’re gonna play some cards if you want to join.”
I shake my head. “I’m good. Decompressing from the game.”
“I hear you,” he says, nodding. He stretches out his legs. “Going to see Aviva when we land?”
“Yeah, it’s late, but she wants me to come by.”
“Nice. I’m ready to see Amelia and the kids.”
I grin over at him. “I bet. It has to be harder being away.”
His face says it all. He’d give up everything to be home with the kids and Amelia. “Yeah, but the nice thing is my mom is helping a lot. She traded me in for the kids.”
I laugh. “It’s weird not having her on the road.”
Chandler nods because he knows I’m right. His parents used to go all over with us. He comes from some insane blue-blood money, and they do what they want, when they want. They travel with us, rent houses where we are, and enjoy life. It’s awesome. Since the twins came, though, Mama and Papa Moon have not been seen. Instead, they’re home with Amelia, spoiling the shit out of those babies. I find it sweet since they couldn’t have kids biologically.
“Yeah, but it’s nice to know that the kids and Amelia are cared for,” he says. I love how happy he is. He deserves it. “Though, my mom is on my last nerve.”
I laugh. “How? She’s awesome.”
He gives me an exasperated look. “She wants us to get a bigger house. Says the beach house isn’t good enough for the kids. I mean, she’s right, they don’t have their own rooms, but they’re little. It doesn’t matter right now.”
“Yeah, I can see both sides.”
“Amelia says she’ll do what I want, but I don’t want to leave the place where we fell in love.”
God, he’s so mushy-gushy. “I hear you.”
“I think I might build on to it instead.”
“That’s a good idea.”