But Igether. And I know exactly what it means, because she’s letting me in. I meet her gaze, and even though my pulse is bouncing like a puck on ice that’s too cold, I’m in it to win it.
“Yeah,” I say, lowering my voice. “Yeah, I’ll come.”
Her whole face lights up. She’s all in because he grabs my hand, just like the night we met, and squeezes it tight like we’re about to jump off a cliff together.
“Then let’s go give them a show.”
And in that moment, my stomach does somersaults, kinda like I did one too many Spin-o-Ramas. Maybe this isn’t just another night. Perhaps it’s the beginning of something else entirely.
And for the first time in a long time, I want to fall right into it, intoher, and forget about everything else.
28
FINN
I DON’T SHARE
Massive Brawl After Dirty Hit:One huge hit or dirty play triggers a full line brawl—benches nearly clear, gloves and helmets everywhere: pure mayhem, old-school hockey chaos. I hate being boxed in. If I’m not in the brawl, I want to be, because the guys are my family, and I will defend them.
I hate places like this?—
They’re too loud, too crowded, and too many people are pretending they aren’t watching every damn move I make. But I’m here anyway—a mixer of VIPs, for Kate. She can get me to do about anything short of breaking the law, just by asking.
The bar’s packed—industry people, local sponsors, half the town trying to act like they belong in the VIP section just because they bought a ticket close to the stage.
Kate’s still glowing from the show, laughing with her band members as they unwind, and her face is still flushed from the heat of the spotlight.
I should be watching from the corner, staying in the background like a supportive husband, playing it cool, just like I know I should—But thenheshows up.
Wade fucking Mitchell.
The hometown football hero, washed-up quarterback, and the same asshole who sold her out to the press not that long ago. He struts into the VIP section like he owns it, sliding in beside her like they’re still something. As if he still has the right to breathe her air.
I see red. I don’t even think, and unfortunately, I move.
By the time I reach them, Wade’s already got his hand on the back of her chair, leaning in, talking too close.
Kate stiffens, but she doesn’t pull away fast enough to satisfy me.
“Am I interrupting something?” My voice cuts through the noise, low and sharp.
Wade glances up, smug as ever. “Hey, man. Didn’t see you there.”
I don’t look at him. My eyes are on her.
Kate’s wide-eyed, caught somewhere between surprised and annoyed—but there’s something else there too—a flicker of something darker.
Possession twists in my chest.
She opens her mouth, probably to tell me to back off—but I don’t give her the chance.
Instead, I lean down, close enough for her to feel it, and press a slow kiss to her cheek, lingering, deliberate.
I swear Kate is holding her breath.
Wade watches, jaw ticking, wondering how this is gonna go, and how much he can push my buttons before I flatten him and we end up in a brawl worthy of a contentious hockey game.
“Just wanted to say good show, sweetheart,” I murmur, right against her skin. “Didn’t want to leave without congratulating you.”
