Except this time, it’s like my adrenaline has been amped up tenfold and now I have butterflies swimming in my stomach. Because not only am I getting ready to step out onto the ice for the beginning of a new hockey season, but I’m going to be doing it under the watchful, and I hope adoring, eyes of Olivia.

Sure, she came to last week’s preseason game, but it’s not the same. I didn’t play but maybe a third of my normal ice time, and that’s to be expected. Preseason is for the coaches to evaluate and gauge the effectiveness of the new kids on the block. It’s their chance to shine, and I warmed the bench for most of the game.

But tonight? Tonight is different because from here on out, every game matters. Every game won is just one step closer to our goal of making the playoffs. Every pass…every glide of the skate…every fucking check is of paramount importance. That’s how I play my game…as if every single move I make is the most crucial move in the world. As if the lives of all mankind rest on my ability to help my team win.

And now that I know Olivia’s eyes are on me…sharing in that zeal…partaking of the fanaticism that permeates the arena, cheering me on like no other fan will ever do…well, it makes it all the more imperative to play my best.

The gate to the ice swings open and we surge out. A cohesive unit…an unstoppable team. Nineteen thousand fans erupt into a frenzied cheer as we lap around the lower half of the ice…stretching our legs, getting our nerves under control during our pregame warm-up. As I skate by our penalty box, I let my eyes stray back three rows to where I know Olivia is sitting.

And, damn…she takes my breath away. She’s wearing my jersey…a present I brought to her yesterday, and by the look on her face, you’d have thought I asked her to wear my letterman jacket or something. It was fucking fantastic. She’s clapping her hands and screaming wildly, her eyes alight with fervor as our gazes connect. She’s even wearing her hair in those braids that I fucking love, and I can already imagine them twisted around my hand later tonight while I fuck her.

I shoot her a wink and skate on by, turning my full attention to the ice. I’ve seen her…I know she’s where she’s supposed to be, and she looks amazing.

And she’s all mine.

But now it’s time to focus on hockey, and a win. For me, for the team…and, yeah, for her too.

—
“Dude, you are so fucking whipped,” Zack says as he punches me on the shoulder. I jerk slightly and reluctantly take my gaze off Olivia to look his way.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I take a swig of my beer and promptly look back at my girl. She’s standing just ten feet away, sipping on her own beer and talking animatedly with Sutton and Gina. We’re at Houlihan’s, celebrating a 2–1 victory over Chicago. Yours truly had a goal, and I feel on top of the world. The only thing better would be if Olivia would quit chatting with the girls and get her sweet ass over here so I can touch her.

“Fucking hopeless,” Zack mutters, and Alex snickers.

I blink and turn to look at them. “What? Why am I hopeless?”

“Because you can’t fucking take your eyes off of Olivia for more than two seconds,” Alex jeers at me. Then he leans in toward me and murmurs with a mocking sneer, “Pussy.”

“Fuck both of you,” I say haughtily. “And for your information, I can indeed take my eyes off of her for that long.”

“Good,” Zack says, handing me an empty beer bottle. “Go get us some more beer.”

I tilt my own back and take three large swallows to empty the bottle. “Assholes,” I say with good nature and head toward the bar. Stopping beside Olivia, I kiss her on her temple. “You girls want anything else to drink?”

Gina and Sutton shake their heads, smiling coyly at me as they watch my uncharacteristic display of affection. I’m immensely pleased when Olivia just smiles at me with pure happiness and rests her hand on my chest lightly. “I’m good, but thank you.”

“Be right back,” I tell the girls, and then I set out to prove Alex and Zack wrong. That I can, indeed, take my attention off Olivia for more than two seconds. Before I leave, I whisper to Olivia, “I’m going to have one more beer, then we can leave. I can’t wait to get you home.”

“Good,” she whispers back. “Because I can’t wait to show you how proud I was of you tonight.”

Fuck. Who needs another beer? I’m ready to go now. I swivel my gaze back to Alex and Zack, and I give a sheepish grin when Alex mouths the word pussy at me. I flip him off and head toward the bar, intent on not looking back at Olivia for at least the next few minutes it takes me to get everyone’s beer.

I’m stopped twice on the way, fans clapping me on the back and asking for autographs, which I gladly produce. For the most part, that’s a part of my celebrity that I don’t mind. Most people are really cool and overly grateful when I give them my time.

I make it up to the bar, but because it’s postgame and Houlihan’s is packed, I have to wait as the three bartenders back there run around like crazy trying to keep up with all the customers’ orders. Unfortunately, my celebrity doesn’t get me served any faster, so I just prop my elbows up on the bar and wait…thinking of Olivia, but refusing to turn around to look at her because I know Zack and Alex are just waiting for me to do that so they can rag on me some more.

“Excuse me,” I hear, and feel a tap on my shoulder. “Garrett…can we get an autograph and a picture?”