CHAPTER 33
Saint
The Chicago Sun:Can the Golden Boy of the NHL Make History?
The New York Times:The Wild Dogs Look Unstoppable
Sports Illustrated:Saint ‘The Savage’ Masters—All American Boy
All American Boy. It was certainly a preferable moniker to Wolfman.
“What are you chuckling about?” Lily asked as I took her hand as we walked down the sidewalk. It was obvious my parents had a huge turnout given the number of cars parked on the street. Somehow, I had a bad feeling my mother had purposely lied to me that this was an innocent barbeque.
“The latest headlines.”
“Hmm…” She handed me the bottle of wine and pulled her phone from her purse. As she did three dozen times a day, she checked social media, her skill at keeping my name in the press in glowing fashion a thing of beauty.
Just like the woman walking beside me.
“Well, the latest post has three million likes. I’d say you’re trending.”
“You mean we’re trending, baby.”
She wrinkled her nose as she flipped through the colorful photographs. “Don’t forget you owe me your career.”
“That I do and so much more.” We stopped just outside my parents’ house. I could hear the music from where we stood.
“This is just a get-together we were invited to. Right?”
“Yep. It better be.”
“Exactly or you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.”
“Then I guess I’ll need to shackle you to the bed.”
The last few weeks had been a complete blur. We’d traveled to several cities, basking in the glow of our wins. Thousands of photographs had been taken, hundreds of autographs given. The roar of every crowd lingered in my ears.
I’d never been happier than I was at this moment.
Round one of the playoffs had been a breeze.
Round two had been fraught with errors, two injuries almost derailing us. But we’d regrouped, managing to win the final game in a hard-fought battle.
The conference final? Well, the press had hounded us, but there had not been a single mention of a werewolf in sight.
In fact, I’d been labeled the golden boy of hockey, much to Steven’s chagrin.
We had one more game to win. Just one before we’d take home the Stanley Cup. In my mind, nothing could stop us. As the favorites to win, we had a home court advantage and as expected, the Denver Devils would play the final game.
My mind was still processing the entire season and I’d come to realize without Lily’s assistance and her companionship, all the success wouldn’t have meant nearly as much.
We were a couple.
A team.
We argued less and enjoyed each other’s company more.
While we hadn’t talked about our engagement, she hadn’t vanished from my life so I must be doing something right.
