I chuckle, because it’s true. I wanted to stand on my own, and I did.
“How’d it feel?” he asks, and I tip my head to look at him. “Letting people see you as you are.”
I shrug, considering the entire exchange. “Honestly, it didn’t feel like much at all.”
“Then I suppose that’s the highest compliment you can pay yourself.”
“Because I felt… like myself.”
Gage leans down and brushes his lips against my temple. “You’re magnificent. That’s all I know.”
Leaning into him, I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. “I’ll admit… being with the hottest guy here is a bit of an ego boost.”
Gage laughs, squeezing me back. “And I get to leave with the hottest woman here. Lucky guy that I am.”
“And when might that be?” I inquire, looking back up at him with a sly grin. “Because I do have something under this dress that you might like.”
Heat flashes in his eyes as his hand comes to the back of my neck. Gage gives me a sizzling kiss, and my legs wobble. “I say we start making our goodbyes right now.”
“But Baden and Sophie,” I point out, since we’re sharing the limo home.
“Let them keep it,” he says, brushing his lips against mine again. “We’ll take an Uber.”
I giggle against his mouth. “I like it.”
“Like you like me?” he asks.
“I love you,” I correct him. “So much love.”
“I love you,” he says, taking my hand. “Now, let’s get out of here so I can get you in bed and prove it in other ways that have nothing to do with words.”
I follow willingly behind him, grinning like a fool, as he leads me through the crowd.
I’d follow him anywhere.
READ chapter one of COEN below!
Chapter 1
Coen
Since the crash, the atmosphere in the Titans arena has been nothing short of electric. Now that the playoffs are in full swing and the Titans have earned a spot, the energy put off by the fans is almost painful to bear.
Especially since I’m sitting in the upper tier of the arena and watching my team from afar.
I have no fucking clue why I’m here.
I’ve staked my position—I don’t give a fuck about hockey anymore.
And yet… here I am. Watching.
And cheering for my team.
Or, is it my team since I’m suspended through no one’s fault but my own? Before I attacked that ref, I knew it was the end for me this season. I can’t even claim heat of the moment, because I knew what I was doing, and I knew what the consequence would be before I did it.
Regardless, no one has recognized me. It’s been three weeks since I was suspended for that attack. I’ve grown my beard, not to act in solidarity to my other teammates who have their playoff scruff blooming, but because I don’t give enough of a fuck to shave.
Plus, living in Stone’s cabin in the deep woods, I’ve got this whole mountain man thing going on.
I’m wearing a hat pulled low and my glasses, not because I think they lend to a disguise, but because I didn’t order my replacement contacts in time and I’m without.
The whole look I’ve got going on allows me to sit up here among a throng of drunken fans too amped up on playoff energy and beer to pay me too much attention. But if someone does happen to recognize me, so be it.
I’m just a regular fan like them now.
It’s game three of this first round of the playoffs. The first two games were played against the New Jersey Wildcats who had home ice advantage. They soundly whipped the Titans’ asses both games.
I by no means think it’s because I wasn’t there to help. Yes, it’s been tough on everyone losing me as well as our primary goalie, Jesper Keane, but I wasn’t contributing all that much to begin with.
Outside of that, it’s just been hard for a team of players to come together after the tragedy of the crash and expect us to have much in the way of synchronization and connection on the ice. Playoff teams have had months to gel in all the ways needed to play at the highest caliber and the Titans just didn’t have that.
This isn’t shocking or unexpected.
The team’s chances of amounting to much this season after the crash were incredibly slim and it’s an amazing accomplishment to even make the playoffs.
They won’t be here long though.
Currently down three to zero with only five minutes left in the third period, this is going to go down as another loss and they’ll only be one game away from being eliminated.
I’m not sad for me, but I do feel pity for those guys down on the ice that are playing their hearts out, trying to eek out a win for the fans. They’re giving all they’ve got but it won’t be enough.
I consider heading out and beating the mass exodus once the buzzer sounds. I’ve got a little over a three-and-a-half-hour drive to get back to the cabin I’m renting from Stone. I moved in the day he’d given me the keys, and this is the first time I’ve left the small town of Coudersport.
Still not quite sure what possessed me to come to Pittsburgh to watch this game, but fuck if I could help myself.
It’s nothing but torture.
Self-flagellation.
Making myself watch what I’ve willingly given up.
And I have given it up, even though I’m here. I told Brienne and Callum the day they notified me of the suspension that was I done for good.
I was numb sitting in Brienne’s office that day. The cool as a cucumber heiress to the Norcross fortune and now sole owner of the Titans since her brother died in the crash, regarded me not with ice in her eyes, but a warmth and understanding I didn’t earn.
Yeah, she was mad I attacked the ref, which came on the heels of my arrest in New York for assault and drunk and disorderly. But without words, her gaze told me that she understood.
I’m glad she did, because I sure as fuck didn’t.
I didn’t understand a goddamn thing in this world anymore.
“Coen.” My name on her lips was both gentle and unyielding at the same time. “You certainly have the right to appeal this suspension.”
“I won’t,” I’d replied. “I’m done.”
Brienne was unnerved and exchanged a look with our general manager, Callum Derringer, before bringing her attention back to me. I braced, waiting for her to give me the same shit that Gage, Baden, and Stone had been throwing at me.
You’re too good to walk away from this.
This team needs you.
You can come back from this.
I braced and I waited, ready to deny Brienne’s pleas for me not to give up on this career.
But it never came.
Instead, she nodded. “I’m not going to beg you to stay. I’m not going to tell you that you’re throwing away a hall of fame worthy career. I’m not even going to tell you this team will suffer with you gone, because I’ll find someone to replace you.”
I was so stunned by her words and the matter-of-fact way she laid them out, I know my jaw sagged slightly.
“I won’t try to influence you in any way,” she continued on, her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that punched deep. “But I won’t hear another word about you quitting or giving up until training camp starts in September. You want to leave this behind? Fine. But you are doing a disservice to yourself if you do it now. You need some time away from all of this. From the horror of the crash, the guilt I know is consuming you. and the pressures of trying to put you on the ice with a team that isn’t the team you want, nor the team you can have, since they’re all dead.”