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He smiles down at me, and I eagerly return it.

Any concern I had about his feelings toward my boyfriend has long vanished. I’m excited about our family dinner on Saturday night. I have a feeling it’s going to be the beginning of something beautiful.

“Yes, come on,” I scream, my palms slamming against the plexiglass as Linc shoots across the ice in front of us. The game is tied at three apiece, and there are only two minutes left on the clock.

Vancouver has played dirty, taking their lead from Nash. But our boys have hit back just as hard.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a whistle blown or seen as many penalties in a single game before. It’s as exciting as it is nerve-wracking.

Every time we take the lead, they come back at us, leveling the score.

“No, you fucking asshole,” I bellow as a Vancouver defenseman crosschecks Linc and sends him flying. He hits the ice hard, causing the entire crowd to gasp, but apparently, it looked worse than it was, because he’s back on his feet almost before the ref has had a chance to blow his whistle.

The clock continues to count down as the D man earns himself a minor and stalks toward the penalty box like a petulanttoddler. I swear, the girls take their punishment better than that asshole.

There’s just over thirty seconds left as Fletch gets into position for the last face-off of the game.

“Come on, we’ve got this,” I scream, my eyes on Kodie.

He’s focused, his eyes locked on where the puck is going to hit the ice, ready with whatever play Fletch called.

My heart slams against my ribs, and I swear it stops altogether when the game restarts.

Fletch wins the puck, fakes right and shoots left, sending it directly to Kodie.

Time slows to almost a stop as I track the puck across the ice.

It hits Kodie’s stick, and he taps it a couple of times, lining up the perfect shot.

Nash is right on his ass, but Kodie is stronger, faster, and he pulls back and shoots a second before Nash takes him down.

Kodie hits the ice at the same time the cherry lights up and the arena erupts.

“Kodie,” I scream despite the fact he won’t be able to hear me.

He shifts his legs and then rolls over so he’s facing me.

The moment I see his wide smile and the excitement in his eyes, I know he’s okay.

Lifting the arm he’s not lying on, he points at me. “For you, baby,” he mouths before his teammates pile on him.

He humors them, celebrating that incredible last-minute win, but the second he can break away, he’s shooting across the ice, his sights set on me.

“Goddamn, I want a man who looks at me like that,” Parker mutters.

I laugh. She might claim she’s not interested, but I call bullshit. She’s just done with sifting through the fuckboys to find the one.

Despite knowing it’s about to happen, I startle when Kodie collides with the plexiglass, his helmet abandoned somewhere on the journey over.

His curly hair is dripping with sweat, his eyes are electric, and his cheeks are glowing.

“We did it,” he shouts.

“Hell yeah, you did.”

I mirror his movements as he edges toward me. The second he’s there, I jump into his arms, his lips finding mine.

Another round of cheers erupts, and when he finally lets me up for air and I glance at the Jumbotron, I find the whole thing was broadcast for everyone to see.