As the present seeped back into her brain, Rafe stroked rough fingertips along her spine. His heavy, quick breaths sounded in her ear. His heart pounded hard against hers.
Then his breathless voice, thick with residual desire, murmured, “Fuck. I never knew…it could be like this…”
His revelation choked a sound from her—part laugh, part sob.
She’d never known she could love like this. This was what all her exes had been looking for. Waiting for. This was what she’d never been able to give.
Only to finally find The One, knowing that keeping him meant alienating everyone truly important in her life. In Rafe’s life. In their life, together.
10
Sweat drenched Rafe’s body. His thighs ached. Lungs burned. But his goal was within sight. So close he could taste it. Taste the salty, coppery tang on his tongue.
Score. Score. Score.
Rafe swung into the turn at the corner of the rink with a Bruin headed on a trajectory to intercept. But as the other player rushed to meet Rafe, Rafe leaned back, slowing at the last second and collecting the puck to protect it. The Bruin’s skates cut across Rafe’s path, just inches from his blades. Inches that gave Rafe the space he needed to pass to Andre.
Andre swooshed a circle around another Bruin and passed to Tate.
And Tate hammered the puck deep into the net.
Score.
Adrenaline surged through Rafe, the game now three-two with the Rough Riders in the lead at the beginning of the third period.
All five players punched a triumphant fist in the air and skated to each other for congratulatory hugs. After tapping gloves with their teammates on the bench and getting kudos from their coach, Tremblay traded Rafe, Tate, and Isaac out of the line.
This was game four in the battle for the East Coast conference title. They had to win to play for The Cup.
“You are killin’ it tonight,” Tate told him, following Rafe to the bench. “You’ve touched every fucking goal.”
Two goals and one assist out of the three total. Yes, Rafe was on motherfucking fire. Again. Thanks to Mia.
He couldn’t have killed the grin on his face even if he’d gotten jammed into the boards headfirst—like he had in the first period, which had earned Rafe eight stitches underneath one eye.
Even with sweat stinging the cut, he turned his smile on Mia where she sat in the stands nearby. She was sitting with Joe, just three rows up from the ice tonight. Rafe loved knowing she was watching him kill it. Loved having her eyes on him.
He picked up a bottle, squirted water into his mouth, and glanced at Tate. When Rafe found him talking to Hendrix, he cut another look toward Mia.
She was already looking at him, and the second their gazes collided, all sorts of tugs and twists tortured his guts. Sitting on the edge of her seat, leaning forward, she had her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palm. And she was smiling. Right at him. The kind of smile that made his insides tighten and sing. And while her smile grew to show perfectly straight, white teeth—courtesy of Joe—Rafe was already wondering how and where he could maneuver a situation to get her alone tonight. He’d sure love to expend all his adrenaline on Mia.
But if they won, everyone would be headed to owner’s home after the game to celebrate their victory.
Cheers from the stands pulled Mia’s gaze back to the ice. Rafe glanced that direction and found Kilbourne fighting to get the puck around the goalie. When the puck started down the ice again, he returned his gaze to Mia, but she was talking to Joe.
Her move to California snuck into his thoughts. Something he’d been trying to ward off because it messed with his head and his heart. He couldn’t ask her not to go. But if she moved to California, he knew the gains they’d made in their relationship would be lost.
Then he thought of all the other things keeping them from giving this thing between them their all. Remembered Tate’s fury when he’d thought Rafe had slept with Mia. Heard Joe calling the three of them “his kids.” Then the past filtered in—all the tutoring Joe had gotten Rafe in school, the equipment he’d bought for Rafe, Tate’s special coaching Joe had paid to let Rafe join, the hockey camps he’d paid for Rafe to attend. Tate would know Rafe had lied to his face about it. Joe would hear about it. All the trust Tate had in him, all the pride Joe felt… It would all disintegrate when they found out he’d slept with Mia.
Rafe took another drink of water and pushed all that from his mind. He had to focus through this third period. He’d talk with Mia about this later.
He turned to Tate and asked, “Are Mia and Joe coming to the party tonight?”
“You know Dad, never turn down a chance to bullshit with—”