Page 43 of Lawson

Crack!The puck is live, and my muscles are on fire, the Bruins not pulling any punches for our first preseason game. We’re in the last period. Tied up. Sweat gathers on my brow beneath my helmet, but I’m explosive off my start, soaring across the ice with a laser focus.

The Bruins manage to get the puck, and I make sure to get right in the puck handler’s way, reading his actions a microsecond before he goes to pass it to his teammate. I intercept the puck, flying across the ice in the opposite direction, looking left and right for my teammates.

Nash is in prime position, so I send the puck gliding his direction, and it hits his stick perfectly without him missing a beat. Our defense is already clearing a path for him, and he makes a shot with only ten seconds left in the game. The puck breezes past the goalie, hitting the net and making the crowd go wild.

I immediately skate over to Nash, chest bumping him as the rest of our teammates celebrate too.

I quickly look to the stands, finding Blakely where I clocked her at the beginning of the game.

She's on her feet and cheering, looking sexy as hell in the Badgers’ black and yellow.

My heart swells in my chest, pride rippling along every inch of my body at the smile on her face. And sure, she’s coached every single player on the ice so she's happy for her team, but she’s looking directly atme.

I point at her, silently sending credit her way. We all skated faster than we had a month ago, and we owe that to her.

Are there some kinks we still need to work out with the team? Absolutely.

But we're heading to the locker rooms with a win under our belt and it's only the first preseason game.

Coach says as much in a fifteen-minute speech that covers everything from pride to motivation, before sending us off to the showers. We all hurry through the process, knowing a victory celebration is due.

I'm a bit bummed to not find Blakely waiting for me outside of the locker room, but maybe she's already headed toThe Queen’s Rumknowing that we'll all be celebrating there.

It's a quick drive from our home arena, and as I and half the team walk through the doors, flooding the establishment with patrons, I scan those who are already here.

No sign of Blakely.

My shoulders drop, disappointment shooting through me.

It’s been three weeks since Kiplin’s party. Three weeks since Blakely let me take care of her in a way that’s appeared in my dreams every single night since.

I haven't been able to get her out of my head, and it’s taken every ounce of willpower I possess not to cross any lines during our private lessons or when I saw her at regular practice.

She kept things friendly enough, engaging in our normal back-and-forth banter, which don't get me wrong, I absolutelylivefor. But we’ve both been so ridiculously busy there hasn’t been any time for bodyguard missions, let alone anythingelse.

I was hoping tonight would be the night to break that streak, but even after I've sat with the guys for a good half hour, there’s still no sign of her.

“I thought you were going to take that last shot for yourself,” Nash says from where he sits to my right.

“You were primed to take it for yourself,” Pax adds from the other side of the table.

Kiplin sits next to him, only giving a nod to the players who pass our table or grunting at anything I have to say.

“I could’ve,” I admit. “The thought crossed my mind, but Nash had a better chance of scoring.”

Nash purses his lips, flashing Kiplin a look I can't decipher.

I'm hoping that after one season I'll be included in the silent conversations among the vets, but who knows, it could have taken him three years to develop that. Either way, it doesn't bother me. Not only have I busted my ass in practice, but I've just proven myself at our first preseason game.

It's not always about me, it's aboutwinning. All I need to do is show them that and I’ll be well on my way to earning their full respect.

“Either way, it was a hell of a play,” Pax says, raising his glass.

All three of us clink ours against his and take sips, celebrating the much-needed start to the season. I set down my glass when my phone buzzes in my pocket, smiling at a text from my mother.

Mom: Congrats on your preseason win, honey. I'm so proud of you.

Me: Thanks mom. How did book club go?