Blades of Glory (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 4)

I nod, but then I hear my name being called.

“Mom!”

I look down at where Shelli is standing, looking at me with wide eyes. “It’s time to start.”

I glance out at the ice, where all the guys are waiting for me. “Oh! Excuse me. I’ll be back.”

Mary Ann and Posey laugh as I make my way down the aisle. In high heels and a tight skirt, it’s a challenge, but I’m Elli Adler—I can do this in my sleep. When I reach the bottom step, my husband is there.

“Mrs. Adler.”

He takes me by the hips, lifting me and helping me down. I kiss his chin. “Mr. Adler.”

A kiss on the chin isn’t enough for him, I guess, because he captures my mouth like it’s his first chance to kiss me. He dips me back, and I remember how much I’ve missed kissing him when he is in his gear. I don’t know why; it doesn’t even make sense since his protective gear isn’t very comfortable, but it reminds me of earlier times. When there was nothing to worry about but our love. I hear catcalls, even cheers, but all I feel is him. All of Shea Adler. I pull away, cupping his jaw. “Show-off.”

He grins. “I have the hottest wife here. Of course I’m showing off.”

I smack his chest as he rights me before I shake my head, walking onto the carpet leading to where Shelli is standing. I can’t believe that in a month, she’ll be married. It’s crazy how fast time flies by. I grab the mic from her as she leans into my side. Her work with the Assassins foundation has been incredible, but when she offered fans a chance to attend in exchange for a donation, I was in awe of how much money she raised for the cause. The first tier of the arena is dedicated to the family and friends of the players, but the second is for the fans, and it’s packed to the brim.

Everyone wants to see the show.

“Is this thing on?” I ask, and I hear myself echo through the arena. “It is! Hello, and welcome to the unofficial Nashville Assassins alumni game. Why is it unofficial, you may ask? Well, unlike official alumni games, our alumni won’t be playing against one another but against our reigning Stanley Cup Champions!”

The crowd rumbles with excitement as the boys all wave from the bench, smiling for the crowd and their families. “Some of you know this and some of you may not, but my eldest daughter, Shelli, is marrying Aiden Brooks,” I say. And as always, cheers follow Aiden’s name. “They wanted to do something fun to celebrate their upcoming nuptials. I’m not sure who suggested it first, but after a night of intense wedding planning—and most of a case of beer on Shea’s and Aiden’s parts—they thought, what better way to celebrate than a game between the old and the new.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Old is uncalled-for!” Shea yells at me.

“Yeah. Seasoned is better,” Lucas Brooks offers, and I snort.

“We aren’t chicken,” Tate Odder reminds them. “Why can’t it just be called ‘legends against current champs’?”

Aiden laughs. “Hold on there, Uncle Tate. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Legends?”

Tate blinks. “Yes, legends. A word you’ll hopefully be able to achieve—if I don’t kill you first.”

Oh, the trash talk.

“Let’s see if you can catch, eh, Uncle?”

I look between nephew and uncle before bringing the mic back to my lips. “I want to say they’ll all skate off the ice in one piece, but… Our seasoned legends are ready to show the current champs what they are made of, and I know I am ready for it. Are you?”

More cheers and yelling.

“That’s right! So, let’s go! Shelli will drop the same commemorative puck that is for sale up at the foundation booth between Sections 201 and 202. They are all randomly signed by these great players on the ice, and we have a ton. Each player signed one hundred of them each. Thank you, boys! And thank you so much for coming! Let’s go Assassins!”

The chant starts as everyone lines up for the ceremonial puck drop. Shelli kisses her daddy on the cheek and then her fiancé on the lips before she gets in place for the picture. The current Assassins are wearing their black home jerseys with the amazing purple and silver trim. Our alumni are wearing the jerseys from the year Shea and I met. It’s purple with black trim, and the Assassin on the front has the Nashville skyline rising out of his shoulders. In my opinion, it was the best jersey ever. Which is why I’m wearing my Shea Adler one.

Shelli drops the puck for the photo op, and Aiden seems to have it, but then Shea lifts his stick, stealing it away. He reaches for it, tossing it up so Shelli can catch it. “When we win, you will mow my yard for a year.”