BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance by Eddie Cleveland (ebook reader macos .txt) 📕

so fast the air becomes wind. My lungs suck cold bursts inside my ribs. I never stop looking, and I finally spot it. My opening.

Cutting left around some shadows, my hockey stick is just an extension of my body. Scooping the puck, I weave by the defense. That opening in the upper right-hand corner of the net is my entire focus.

I flick my wrist, sending it sailing through the air in a slap shot. The goalie dives over, but it’s too late. The puck plunges into the net and falls behind him. The noise blast for the point is like a foghorn that cuts through the haze. Everything rushes back at once. The players circling me. The roaring crowd. Even Prissy.

I skate down the center and stop at our net. As soon as I get there, I grab Canuck, lifting him off the ice. The buzzer blasts out, making the end of the game official. It’s 2-1. We fucking did it!

“You’re a king. You killed it!” I yell at him.

Behind the penalty box, Prissy is doing a little dance. If I wasn’t already smiling, that would put one on my face.

“Sweet shot,” he yells back.

We head to center ice to pay our respects. When you’re on the losing team, shaking hands with the guys who won and retreating to the locker room takes an eternity. A winner’s high breezes you through all that shit. We’re loud as fuck, whooping and yelling over each other all the way to the changing room for the away team.

“Fuck yeah, that was amazing.” Griz wraps his arm over Canuck’s shoulder.

“A shut out? You didn’t just show up, Canuck. You were showing off.” Player gives him a fist bump.

There’s a lot going on, with lockers opening and all the guys replaying the highlight reel with each other. I don’t even notice Griz until he’s right next to me. He snuck in there. With how big he is, that’s a fucking accomplishment. He holds out his hand, and I grab it. He pulls me into one of his signature bear hugs. I swear the guy is only a couple of DNA tweaks from being an actual grizzly.

“It’s good to have you back out there. That was something else, Blaze.”

He slaps my back and then continues to congratulate the other guys on the team.

“It was good to be out there,” I admit.

Player doesn’t hide that he’s watching. He hovers, not saying anything. He’s really run hot and cold with me this year. He’s exploded at me in some red-hot rages, but he freezes me out with his icy anger too. He likes to keep me on my toes. This feels different.

The locker room door swings open, and all our attention turns to it as Coach Wilson walks in. Dances in, actually. The smile on his face is about ten miles wide.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he yells, and we cheer. Everyone quiets down when he lifts his hands. “I don’t know where you guys were hiding that all fucking season? I don’t really care. You guys are going to the Frozen Four!”

It’s rowdy as fuck in here. Cheers and whoops echo off the walls.

“Fro-zen Four! Fro-zen Four!”

“We fucking got this, boys!”

Coach looks around the room. “I’m proud of you guys. This will be our third year at the Frozen Four. After the rough start we had to the season, that’s pretty fucking incredible. The first year we went, you stole it. Last year, when you held the title, you proved it. This year, boys… men,” he corrects. His voice is full of emotion, and his eyes gleam with pride. “This year, enjoy it. You guys made this happen.”

Once Coach Wilson clears out, the locker room buzzes with at least fifteen conversations. Most of them are about how to get beer. Everyone seems to agree that a little celebration, hidden from Prissy, won’t hurt anyone. I’m happy that we won, but I don’t want to go back to the hotel and drink. I used to celebrate every day that ended in Y by drinking and getting high. I’m over it.

I shower and get dressed, and the more I hear about these party plans, the less I want to go. I grab my phone and frown at the screen.

Me: I don’t want to celebrate.

I don’t want to drink.

I just want to be with you

Prissy: RU serious? I can make that happen

Me: dead serious. bring it on

She sends me an emoji with sunglasses back to me. Whatever that means.

The room starts to clear out, and I head for the door too when Player puts his hand on my shoulder, and I stop cold.

“Thank you.” I think we’re both equally surprised by the words coming out of his mouth.

“For what?”

“You made me a promise and kept it. You left it all out on the ice tonight. Keep killing it.” He claps his hand on my shoulder and walks out with the rest of the guys. I follow him out the door.

“Oh, hey Prissy.” Rookie draws a lot of eyes her way. Including mine.

She’s standing out against the wall. A frown stitched to her face and her arms crossed. “Hey, stop. Don’t head out to the bus yet. There’s something I’ve got to say.” She stops us from walking by.

Rookie stands next to her. Then Canuck. I walk over too. Pretty soon, the whole team is standing around her, listening. She’s no taller than five foot five, so she’s basically engulfed in a circle of giants. She doesn’t look intimidated.

“Congratulations on the game. You guys put your team first, and you did it. Now, listen, I’m not an idiot. I know perfectly well that you plan to go back to the hotel to celebrate.”

“Well, fuck,” Canuck says. Laughter spreads through the group. Even Prissy smiles.

“How about this. I’ve got a bunch of errands to run, so I won’t be checking in on you. But, don’t give me a reason to regret it.” She narrows her eyes.

“You got it, Prissy.”

“That’s cool of you.”

The team moves