“Hockey. The Speed are back-to-back league champions. And you’ve caught the eye of their star goalie.”
I didn’t give a shit about who he was or what he did for a living. All I knew was that I needed him to stop sending me flowers and forget that I existed.
“Thank you, Jeff. The information you provided has been very helpful. I’ll be sure to leave a glowing review on your social media platforms about the beautiful arrangements I’ve received over the past few weeks.”
His relieved rush of air sounded through the phone. “I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure. Have a great day.”
“Thanks. You too.”
I disconnected the call and grabbed my keys. It was time to put a stop to Sasha, Goose, whatever-his-name’s ideas that we were in some kind of relationship.
Chapter 6
Goose
“Yo, Goose! Delivery camefor you!” Trent, our head equipment manager, walked into the locker room with an open box in his hands.
“Whatcha got?”
He came to a stop where I sat at my stall. “New mask.”
Fuck yes. I’d commissioned the artwork on a new helmet a few weeks ago, and my guy up in Canada had put a rush on it when I told him how important it was to me.
Uniforms were just that—uniform. Everyone looked the same on the ice, but goalies always stood out. Not only did we wear different, bulkier gear designed to block hundred-mile-per-hour slap shots, but we were also allowed a bit of self-expression in the form of unique artwork on our helmets.
My excitement over this design had me vibrating from head to toe. I stood, peeling back the protective packaging inside the box Trent held, before lifting my brand-new helmet out to inspect it.
On the right side of the mask was my trademark goose, sitting on a nest of eggs. Goose was a nickname that stuck pretty early in my youth hockey days—a play on my last name, Gusev, and also the word it was derived from in Russian. I’d never minded it, especially since a goose egg meant a score of zero, so I had used that to fuel my mental game. I took pride in being the shutout leader in the league for two years running. There was a satisfaction in knowing that guys on opposing teams laid awake at night replaying when I’d robbed them of scoring on an exceptionally skilled shot that most goalies wouldn’t be able to save.
The top, which would rest over the crown of my head, featured a red racecar. It was a little fancier than the Speed logo, but it was an homage to the team that drafted me and gave me my big break in the league. Now that I was on a long-term contract, I hoped to retire here. But not for a very long time, and hopefully, with more championships under my belt.
But it was the design on the left side that I was particularly stoked about.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, turning the mask over in my hands. When my lids raised, my permanent smile widened to the point where it made my cheeks ache.
It was fucking perfect.
The smooth fiberglass featured a collection of brilliant, cut gemstones in various colors. Above them in script, was the name always sitting at the back of my mind—Gemma.
I was itching to see her again, but I hadn’t had a moment to spare between practices, games, and traveling. I’d sent her flowers so she would know I was still thinking about her, even if we weren’t physically together.
“Thanks, Trent. It looks great.”
Our equipment manager gave me a smile. “She must be something special to make it onto your helmet.”
I huffed out a laugh. “One in a million.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Happy for you, man.”
Trent left the locker room as my teammates filed in one by one. It took longer for me to gear up, so I was usually the first to the rink for practice.
Braxton dropped down beside me, shucking off his street shoes before stripping off his sweats to reveal the skintight base layer underneath. His eyes caught on the shiny new mask resting on the bench.
“Another one? Didn’t you get two new ones when the season started?” he asked.
“Yup.” I nodded. “This one is special, though.”
