“Dimitri likes him a lot, says he’s a funny guy.”

  I smile proudly. “He is when he lets himself be. I’m glad to hear he is that way with the team. I was nervous he would shut down.”

  “Does he do that?”

  “God, yes, and it drives me mad. He’s so worried about what people think, and I hate that it holds him back.”

  She beams at me. “Lord, you love him something fierce.”

  “I do,” I agree, beaming back at her. “Though, I thought the surprise would be ruined. He did not like that I didn’t answer his texts and calls.”

  Austen snorts. “I’m sure he didn’t. Dimitri would have tracked me down.”

  “I’m surprised Coleson didn’t,” I tease, shaking my head. “But we had a nice afternoon, had lunch in the hotel, I took a nap, and then he left. Though, we did have some drama.”

  Her brows furrow. “What the hell do you mean?”

  I pat her side. “No, he was great. Don’t get all fussy now.”

  “Oh, okay. What happened?”

  Lousia leans in, eyeing me. “I’ll sic Elliot on him.”

  I snort at that, waving her off. “Please don’t, ’cause she’ll pop him one without even thinking.”

  Austen nods. “Which is why we would tell her.”

  I roll my eyes. “No, Coleson is dumb and does stupid boy shit, but at the end of the day we’re good.”

  “What happened, Liza?” Louisa demands.

  I give her a dark look and almost remind her that she’s not my mom, but she kinda is. Ignoring that thought since it’ll send me down a dark road, I say, “This crazy chick shows up, practically naked, and says Coleson hired her for the afternoon.” Both my sisters gawk at me. I hold up my hand. “But I know he didn’t because, one, I’m a great lay, and why wouldn’t he want all this?”

  Louisa sputters as Austen gives me a dry look. “Men like sex.”

  “Yes, and my man likes sex with me,” I tell her, and Austen shakes her head.

  “If only I had that kind of confidence.”

  Louisa cuts Austen a look. “You do.”

  “Eh, sometimes, but Eliza is always so happy and confident. It’s annoying.”

  Louisa holds her gaze. “Yeah, and you ran off to Nashville, while I was stuck with her.”

  I smack my sister. “You love me. And also, Coleson makes me this way. I swear, he looks at me like he wants to gobble me up. And just saying…I let him.”

  They both grin like they’re cats with canaries in their mouths. “I can’t,” Austen cackles, shaking her head.

  “All that aside, what if he did hire her?” Louisa asks.

  I shake my head. “No, he wouldn’t. He doesn’t have sex before games. He never has, and when I asked her who sent her, ’cause I’m sure it was one of his teammates to get him in trouble, the girl took off.”

  Austen’s jaw falls open, and Louisa glares as she gasps, “No fucking way. They’d do that?”

  “Yeah,” I say with a disgusted shake of my head. “I realize he has a past, but he’s such a good guy. So giving and kind. He’d give the shirt off his back to his teammates, but they can’t let go of the mistakes he made. He hasn’t had it easy,” I say softly. “I mean, nothing like us, but his parents weren’t the greatest. And in my opinion, he let the attention of making a hockey team get to his head.”

  Austen squeezes my hand. “You’re probably right. When you go without the right kind of attention, you either plunge headfirst into the wrong kind, or you run from it.”

  “Exactly. Which is why it was nothing for me to look past it all. He’s not that guy. He’s wonderful,” I breathe out as I watch him skate. “I love him very much.”

  Louisa leans her head on my shoulder. “We know, Liza.”

  Austen leans her head on top of mine. “I just hope he loves you as much as you love him.”

  I don’t answer her because I’ve already lied enough, and I can’t confidently say he does. I feel he does, and I want to think he does, even though he hasn’t mentioned the three words I want so damn badly. However, I know things have changed. After last night and after our talk today, I know things are on their way up, but I can’t tell my sisters about that. As much as I don’t like lies between my sisters and me, the one of how my marriage came about will be one I hold forever. I’m okay with it, because in my heart, this has always been what I wanted.

  Him. Coleson.

  When my eye catches Barnes’s number 7 jersey, I point to him. “Hey, Austen. Who is that?”

  She follows the direction of where I am pointing and then opens her trusty iPad. She taps a few times. “Willis Barnes, number seven, forward, left wing, newly acquired by the Kraken over the summer. Oh, he actually played for the Knoxville Bears last year.”

  Beside me, Louisa says in a low voice, “His wife is the one Coleson was found with.”

  My stomach clenches, and now it makes sense why Coleson looked so stricken on the ice. “He stopped Coleson during warm-ups.”

  Louisa nods. “I know. I saw.”

  “Hopefully he doesn’t ruin Coleson’s night,” Austen says, a tinge of concern in her voice.

  Unfortunately, that’s not the case. All night, I have to watch as my husband takes hits from Barnes and a lot of the other Kraken players. Coleson can’t even get a shot off without getting slammed into or checked. Each hit feels like I’m the one taking it, and each time he winces, I wince too. I don’t like this part of hockey, but Coleson’s resilience is inspiring. He doesn’t give up. He plays his game and draws two penalties back-to-back. Though, he hasn’t had a chance to score or even set up a play without someone being on him.

  It’s fucking frustrating, for sure.

  But this is the big leagues—or at least, that’s what Austen tells me.

  I’m not a fan.

  CHAPTER 41

  Coleson

  My side is on fire, and I’m beyond frustrated. This is not how I thought my first game in the NHL would go, but then, my life is a string of what-the-fucks. Out of all the teams to face in my first game, it had to be the team with Barnes on it. I just want to play, but Barnes is on me like a fly on shit. I can’t get a fucking edge. He’s taken some cheap shots, mostly to my ribs, and has been called twice, but still, he’s coming for me. He’s a big dude, and when he slams me into the boards, I feel it everywhere. But I refuse to give up.

  This bastard won’t ruin my future.

  With each intermission, I lean back in my locker and run through each play I made, each time I was on the ice. And while I’m keeping my cool, I’m not impressing anyone. It doesn’t matter how hard it is to get ahead; I have to get there. I have to stand out or my chances are gone. Coach is giving me ice time, and I have to show that I deserve it. With my wife here, I can’t show that I’m sucking, because she’ll worry, and I don’t want that. No, I have to put my game back where it needs to be—and that’s on the track to earning a spot. Somewhere.

  At this point, knowing that my wife will let me keep her, I’m ready to go. I’ve never felt this good playing hockey, and I’m being beat to shit. I know it’s because I’m playing with a team that knows my worth, that sees past my sins. I want that. I love this feeling, and I’ve earned it.

  Once we hit the bench for the start of the third, Coach calls for the line that I’m on with Wes McMillan and Flynn Anderson. As I skate to center ice, I notice that Barnes is skating toward me.

  Fucking hell.

  He deliberately brushes against me, hard, and I’ve had enough. “Let’s go, bitch.”

  The most sinister grin slides over Barnes’s lips as I go to drop my gloves and twig, but he slams his shoulder into mine. I go to swing, but the ref catches me before I can, calling us for roughing. Fuck. Barnes is thrashing against the refs, looking like a wild animal rather than a respectable hockey player. That can be the problem when AHL players come to the NHL. They forget that the NHL is for the discipline, not the idiots.

  “Just let it go,” I call at him as the ref pulls me to the box.

  “No way,” he seethes as he tries to go for me again, but the ref holds him back. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

  “Wow, that’s dramatic,” I taunt. “Did you kill your wife for having my cock down her throat?”

  He comes for me again, and yeah, that was an asshole move. I sit down and ignore Barnes as he throws snide remarks and more threats my way.

  “Maybe I’ll find your wife and fuck her.”

  I chuckle at that and beg myself not to let my possessiveness of my wife explode onto the ice. “Unlike your wife, my wife doesn’t need to suck another dude’s dick to get off. Maybe worry more about giving your wife what she needs and less about me, and she won’t step out on you.”

  Well, I tried.

  He roars from the other box, and like the asshole I am, I laugh. I lean on my thighs, squirting a sports drink into my mouth as I watch the game. The score is tied at zero, but the Assassins are the better team. Problem is, the Krakens’ goalie is in ninja mode. Nothing is getting past him, but we don’t give up. I watch the clock and decide I hate getting put in the box. I start to get cold and lazy just sitting here. Plus, my mind won’t stop. I want to be out there, playing with my team. The fight had to happen, though. I had to put Barnes in his place.

  Enough is enough.

  When the box attendant stands with ten seconds left, I do the same, ready to hit the ice since the Assassins are currently fighting for the puck in our zone. When my time runs out, I haul ass out of the box and toward the other side, away from Barnes so he can’t stop me. Thankfully, Anderson knows what I’m doing and sends the puck up and right on my blade. I see Barnes coming, and I know it’s now or never. I pull back, leaning all my weight into the motion before I let my twig go, the blade smacking into the puck and sending it toward the goal. The goalie throws up his glove, and I know he has it. But he doesn’t time it right. It bounces off the side of his glove and ricochets in behind him, despite him hurling himself back to try to stop it.

  The goal light flashes, and I throw my arms up.

  Holy fuck, I scored.

  The crowd loses their minds, but before I can even put my hands down, I’m kncoked off my feet. I watch as the world turns while I do a somersault in the air. Pain radiates from my side, and when I land, I slam my head into the ice. It all happens so quickly. I feel a snap, pop, and then I hear the crunch. Pain explodes through my leg, up my hip, and my stomach turns. I cry out from the pain, my body shaking as I glance down to see my leg at an angle it’s not supposed to be at. Pretty sure my skate shouldn’t be close enough for me to see that well. Realizing that I’ve snapped my leg in two, I promptly puke as trainers rush to my side. My head is pounding and my vision is blurry as everyone tries to talk to me, but I feel like I’m drowning.

  Blackness creeps in from the sides of my eyes, and then I’m out.

  CHAPTER 42

  Eliza

  “Can I say that I think there might be a bad omen for players coming up from the Bears to the Assassins?” Louisa asks, and I know she’s just trying to keep me distracted. “I mean, I end up in the hospital after Ciaran’s first game, and now Coleson. Like, that’s unsettling. Wait. Maybe we’re a bad omen…”

  I don’t answer her. I can’t. I’ve chewed a hole in my lip since we arrived. My heart is in my throat, and silent tears roll down my cheeks as I watch the doors like they’re the only thing that exists at this moment. In a way, they are, because Coleson was taken back through them, unconscious. I still can’t get the image out of my head of that bastard Barnes rushing into my husband, lifting him off his skates, and Coleson coming down and snapping his leg. Never in my life have I seen a fully grown, over-six-foot man do a flip, but once he was in the air, I knew it wasn’t going to be good.

  I screamed as he went airborne, and when he landed, I felt like I was going to pass out. Hell, I still do. After seeing my husband’s leg to the side of his knee and then how the trainers covered it with a towel as they assessed him, I vomited everywhere and then promptly started sobbing. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He’d just scored.

  Why did this happen?

  Beside me, Austen says, “I didn’t get hurt, nor has Dimitri. Knock on wood.” She quickly knocks her knuckles on her head.

  As my sisters go back and forth, suggesting ways to break the curse we seem to have, my eyes stay on the surgery doors. I chew the inside of my left cheek since I’ve already ruined my right. My throat is burning with emotion, my heart aching, and I just want to see him.

  I didn’t get to kiss him or wish him luck for the surgery. I don’t even know if he heard me yell that I loved him as they wheeled him through the doors. Probably not, since he was unconscious. I hope he did. Just in case.

  No, don’t do that. Don’t go down the road. Everything will be fine. He’ll be fine. We’re fine. My leg bounces as I pick at my nails and then any piece of skin I can find to pick at. My eyes don’t leave the doors, and I can’t think straight.

  More tears fall.

  People come and go to check on me as I wait. Dimitri and Ciaran are the sweetest and stayed, even though I couldn’t bring myself to greet them. I don’t talk to anyone. The only reason I eat or drink anything is because Clara physically forces me too. She’s not the nicest when she’s playing momma bear. She pinches my boob to get me to open my mouth for a protein bar.

  Asshole.

  She and Elliot drove up once they heard what happened. My sisters take turns sandwiching me between them and forcing me to eat. Elliot has taken charge of my phone and is answering the coffeehouse when they call to check in. While it’s only been six hours, it feels like a hundred. Each minute that passes makes me think the surgery isn’t going well, but Louisa doesn’t feel the same. It’s almost like she reads my mind as she checks her phone.

  “I know it’s taking a while, but I promise, they’re great here. It’s Vanderbilt, for goodness’ sake,” she gushes, squeezing my hand with her free one. “They know what they’re doing and are probably doing everything to make sure he can still play.”

  Still play? How in the world…? But I know Coleson will still want to play. He isn’t the kind of man to give up so easily. He fought for himself when no one else would. If he wants to play, I’ll support him. If he doesn’t, that’s fine too. Whatever he wants, I’ll support. I just want him to be okay. I just want to hear his voice. Taste his lips. Feel his arms around me. Be called “Wife.”

  Before I can start crying again, Coach Riggs enters the room. His eyes fall on me, and a grimace fills his features. I hold back my tears as I give him a forced smile of appreciation. He doesn’t smile back, nor waste time. “Any word?” he asks, his Scottish accent soothing.

  I shake my head, and beside me, Clara says, “He’s still in there. A nurse came out and said things are progressing and he’s stable.”

  “Aye, when’s he going to come out?”

  “We don’t know,” she says sadly, cupping my hand.

  Coach looks between us and then back to me. He holds out his hand, and I don’t know why, but I take it. He pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly. And I can’t. I come undone, clinging to him, engulfed by his spicy scent. “Aye there, lass. He’s a strong lad, and I have no doubts he’ll be out soon, you hear? No worries now. Everything will be fine.”

  He pats the back of my head, and I now know why Coleson adores him so. I wish Coleson had had this kind of man in his life while he was growing up, but having his coach come when he did is such a blessing. I squeeze him. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” He pulls back and holds me at arm’s length. “Now you get all that crying done here. Because once we’re with him, we’ll both have to hold it together, aye? A united front?” I nod, and the sweet man wipes my tears away. “That’s a good lass.” He guides me down into the chair, and I watch as he walks over to where Ciaran and Dimitri sit, playing on their phones.

  As the men welcome one another, Clara leans in, “I think I came.”

  I whip my gaze to hers. Gaping at her, I smack her thigh. “Clara Drew! What in the world?”

  She waggles her brows at me. “Um. I know you’re not blind. That man is hot.”

  “He’s, like, forty.” But even so, Coach McCoy is a good-looking man. Strong jaw, large shoulders, dark hair, and a dark beard that covers that strong jaw. He’s tall and trim, with massive legs and the darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. I see the appeal, but he’s almost twenty years older than my little sister. Surely she’s just messing around.

  A sneaky grin moves over her face. “Mm, an experienced man with an accent… Where do I sign up for a ride?”

  I guess not.

  I roll my eyes, but then I laugh. Leave it to Clara to make me laugh. She’s such a dork. She leans into me, and I lean back, pressing my head to hers. We stay like that until the doors fly open, and a rather young-looking doctor walks through. His eyes are like a pond, bluish-green, and he looks more like a hockey player than a doctor. Dark hair, sharp jaw, and an easygoing grin. My eyes fall to his coat that reads Dr. P. Kalahandi, Sports Medicine.

  My mouth goes dry as I stand, and he out holds his hand. “Mrs. Katz?”

  My heart is pounding in my chest as I shake his hand. “Yes,” I somehow croak out. “Is Coleson okay?”

  His eyes are so kind as he nods. “Yes, the surgery went off without a hitch. Let me show you what I did.” He opens his tablet, and it’s hard to hold in all the protein bars Clara stuffed into my mouth when I see the break Coleson sustained. Dr. Kalahandi is quick, efficient, and I enjoy that he doesn’t talk down to me. He makes sure I understand as I listen to how he used a rod to fix Coleson’s leg. “It’s going to be a hell of a recovery. Long and grueling, but if he’s like every hockey player I know, he’ll be on the ice this time next year. He’ll be wearing a non-contact jersey, but he’ll be out there.”

  I swallow hard. “When can I see him?”

  Dr. Kalahandi grins widely at me. “A nurse will be out to get you soon. They’re getting him settled, but I know you’ve been anxious, so I wanted to come reassure you.”