Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
With gritted teeth, I play through it.
Every time I glance up at the suite and see Nora cheering, I remember exactly who I’m doing this for.
And when the final buzzer sounds and we edge out a win by a single goal, there’s no celebratory fist pump. Instead, I skate to the bench with sweat pouring down my back. Only then do I look up and find them watching me.
They’re still here.
I don’t give a shit if Zane keeps coming for me, trying to tear down what I’m building with his ex. I’ll take every fucking hit and keep on going.
Just as long as Callie and Nora are mine at the end of it all.
37
Callie
The moment I step into the suite, a familiar pang hits me. The sense I don’t belong.
Or at least, that I never used to.
When I came to watch Zane’s games, I sat in the lower bowl, crammed somewhere near the glass. It was loud and rowdy. The air thick with beer and sweat. I never really watched the game. Mostly, I watched him and the way he came alive under the spotlight. It was impossible not to notice the way other people stared at him. And I smiled like I was supposed to, like I was lucky to be there.
To be his girl.
But the truth is that I was never really part of his world. I was just someone he brought along for the ride. It took both time and distance to realize that.
This feels different. There’s a warmth here I didn’t expect. A comfort that steals over me before I can shake it off. Lilah is the first to spot us.
She turns and waves, already crossing the room with open arms. “You made it!”
As soon as she’s close enough, she pulls me into a hug that’s tight and sincere.
Then she pulls back with a grin, and her gaze settles on Nora. “And you brought a cheerleader.”
Nora beams and immediately wiggles out of my arms when she spots the cluster of kids playing near the lounge area. Willow turns at the sound, her face lighting up as she rises from the plush couch.
“Nora!” she calls, crouching just in time for my daughter to barrel into her.
Watching them together makes something sharp and unexpected twist deep inside me. Not only in how easily Nora fits into this space, like she was meant to be here all along, but in the way I’m starting to feel like I do too
Willow rises to her feet and hugs me next, her embrace warm and full of quiet reassurance. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“You too.” My throat tightens. “Thanks again for watching Nora the other night.”
“It was our pleasure.” Her gaze flicks to the kids, where Nora is now in the thick of it, proudly showing off Gaffy. “Autumn and Haven absolutely adore her.”
I can’t help but smile as my heart clenches at the sight. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”
From the corner of the suite, Rina lifts one hand in greeting, the other is curled around a drink. Her sharp gaze slides over me before landing squarely on the jersey beneath my jacket.
Her brows lift in amusement. “Well, damn,” she says, tilting her head. “You really went all-in, huh?”
A self-conscious laugh slips out as I glance down and smooth my hand over the blue material with River’s name and number stamped across the back.
“He gave it to me this morning,” I admit. “Right after he made French toast.”
Rina stares for a beat. “Girl, if a man gives you his jersey and makes you French toast in the same twenty-four-hour period, that’s your sign to marry him.”
My laughter is real this time as it bubbles up unexpectedly. Beneath the humor, there’s something unsteady in my chest. Part of me wants to believe in this fairy tale I’ve been dropped in the middle of.
Even if it still scares me to death.
Warm-ups have already started on the ice below, and I instinctively scan the rink for River. He’s easy to spot. A blur of blue and white as he cuts across the ice like it’s second nature.
Like he was born to play this game.
And then he looks up and our eyes lock from across the distance.
He doesn’t smile or wave.
Just holds my gaze, like there’s no one else in this arena but the two of us.
The moment stretches until I watch his gaze drop, landing on the jersey I’m wearing.
The one he gave me.
Something in his face changes. That hard, focused expression eases just enough for a flicker of emotion to break through.
I have to swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat.
This quiet moment of connection is more intimate than anything I ever experienced with Zane. My ex used to flash those camera-ready grins and reach for my hand when he knew someone was watching.