Offside Hearts: Chapter 41

It’s truly amazing what the love of a good woman can do to a man.

After leaving the hotel last weekend feeling like utter shit and letting my dad’s words seep into my head and make me angrier by the second, I honestly wasn’t sure if anything would make me feel better.

And then I told Margo that I loved her.

And she said it back.

And my whole world changed.

It’s been over a week, and I’m still riding the high of that moment. The smile hasn’t left my face since that night, and besides hockey, she’s literally all I think about. Even when I’m supposed to be thinking about my work, sometimes I find my thoughts drifting back to her.

Like this morning, as I’m running drills with the rest of the Aces during our morning skate and nearly slam into Reese.

“Fuck. Where’s your head at, man?” he says, laughing and catching my shoulder.

“Sorry,” I say, snapping back to the moment. “I’m here, I’m here. Let’s run it again.”

Thankfully, all it takes is one little reminder, and I’m able to get my head back in the game. We run a few more drills as Coach Dunaway shouts out instructions from the bench, keeping us all in line. It’s a light practice today, mostly just to warm up our muscles and get us focused, since we’ve got a game this afternoon.

Once we finish, Dunaway calls us together to discuss some strategy for today’s game before letting us go. Then I hustle back to the locker room to see if I have any texts from Margo.

The woman I love.

My phone lights up just as I take it out of my bag. It’s a message from Margo, asking whether or not I was able to snag tickets for Heather and April. She’s invited her sister and niece to come to the game tonight, and I’m determined to show two of her favorite people in the world the best night of their lives.

ME: Yup! I have the tickets, and reservations for dinner afterward.

MARGO: Great! I can’t wait.

ME: Me neither. And then I’m taking you home and eating you 😉

I think about sending her an even dirtier text, but I know she’s at work, and I don’t want to bother her too much. She’s been putting in a hundred and ten percent ever since she got in trouble with Ted and HR, trying her best to prove that’s a valuable and trustworthy member of the team. I find her dedication and work ethic to be a total turn on, and if it wouldn’t put her job in jeopardy, I would run upstairs to her office and throw her down on the desk.

Just thinking about it makes my blood heat, and I shake off a barrage of filthy fantasies and head to the showers. Since there isn’t a lot of time until I’ll have to be back at the arena to warm up, I end up just chilling in the players’ lounge with several of my teammates rather than going home.

At one o’clock, we all head into the locker room to start gearing up for the game. We’ll be playing another tough team today, one that we’ve struggled to beat in the past, but I have faith in us. Besides, we’re all hungry for a win after our devastating loss to the Prowlers.

Margo texts me as I’m putting my pads on, letting me know that she, Heather, and April have taken their seats. They’re right up by the glass near center ice, so they should have a great view of the game. She wishes me good luck, and I message back that I’ll see her soon.

As we hit the ice for our warmup, I glance to my right and see Margo standing up and holding her niece so that April can see the action better. I wave to them, and April grins and waves back. Heather reaches out and takes her daughter onto her lap, and Margo looks at me. She’s wearing my jersey, the way she does at every game these days.

When our eyes meet, she smiles, and it transforms her whole face.

She’s hands down the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve spent hours cataloging every detail of her features by now, and it still sometimes knocks me on my ass when I remember that she’s mine.

As we’re looking at each other, Heather leans over and whispers something in her sister’s ear. Whatever it is, it makes Margo flush, and she tears her gaze away from me, poking her sister in the side.

Fuck, I could watch her all night. But I’ve got a game to win.

I focus up and start running drills with the rest of the Aces, and I can tell just from the warmup that we’re on fire. We’ve got the same energy we did in practice this morning, and I have a feeling that we’re really going to dominate tonight.

After doing a few light stretches, I skate over to where Margo and Heather are sitting to say hello to them. April smiles at me when I approach, leaning forward to press her face right up against the glass. The man sitting next to the three of them glances over, clearly amused by her antics.

“Hey,” I tell her, grinning. “Remember me? Your tea party buddy?”

“Do you still have my sticker?” April asks, totally ignoring my question and pronouncing the word sticker as if it ends with an ‘or’ instead an ‘er.’

“I guess I’ll take that as a sign that you do remember me.” I laugh. “And yes, I still have your sticker. It’s still on my phone case. I’ll show you after the game. Oh, and I watched a clip from your favorite show on YouTube.”

Her eyes widen. “Paw Patrol?”

“Yup. It’s pretty fun. I think my favorite dog is the Dalmatian.”

“Marshall!” April crows. “He’s cute. I like his spots.”

“Me too. Enjoy the game, okay?”

She beams. “I will!”

Margo grins at me, and Heather and April both wave as I rejoin my team to finish our warmup. We return to the locker room briefly, where Dunaway gives us all a pre-game speech, then head back out onto the ice.

As the first period begins, we play like a well-oiled machine. We move the puck around flawlessly, each pass like a hot knife through butter. The other team is chasing us around like dogs, but we keep possession for nearly ten minutes straight.

Then I see Theo breaking for the net.

I pass the puck to him, and he takes off like a bullet. He gets to the net, and with a quick deke, sends the puck straight through the goalie’s legs. The crowd goes wild, but we know we can’t let up now. We keep pushing, continuing to play as if we haven’t just made a goal, and when we get another chance with just a couple minutes left in the period, we capitalize on it.

The puck finds its way to my stick, and I see an opening. I wind up and send a rocket toward the net, scoring goal number two.

But just as we’re feeling good about ourselves, Sawyer gets called for a foul. The Pioneers get a power play, and they make us pay. Their center sneaks the puck past Grant and into the net, and suddenly we’re only up by one.

One of the refs calls an offside penalty on the Pioneers, and during the break in play, there’s a short TV timeout for commercials. I take the chance to huddle quickly with Reese and Theo, trying to put together a solid strategy to get past their defenses as the announcer announces to the crowd that it’s time for the Kiss Cam.

I barely pay attention to it, the sound of the announcer’s voice nothing but white noise in the background, but when I glance up at the Jumbotron, my eyebrows slam together.

What the fuck?

The kiss cam has landed on Margo and the man sitting next to her. The guy looks from the Jumbotron to her, a surprised and pleased expression on his face. He shrugs, then starts to lean toward her. I can’t tell if he’s going to ask first, or if he’s just going right in for the kiss—but I’m not about to wait around and find out.

“Hey!” I shout, already in motion.

I race across the ice, slamming into the boards and banging on the glass with my glove. The guy and Margo both jump, turning to face me, and I lean in closer, glaring him down through my visor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The guy’s face blanches a little, and he opens his mouth to respond, but I don’t give him the chance.

“Look at the number on this jersey,” I tell him, pointing to my uniform. “You see that?” Then I gesture to Margo, who’s wearing the jersey I gave her just after she started working for the Aces. “Now look at the number she’s wearing. They’re the fucking same. Do you know what that means?”

“Uh—well—” He starts to glance toward Margo, but I don’t even want this asshole looking at her, so I pound on the glass once more.

“It means don’t even fucking think about it,” I growl.

The guy puts his hands up in the air and shakes his head in a clear gesture of surrender. He looks around at the other spectators awkwardly, and maybe he realizes that no one is on his side, because he stands up awkwardly and makes his way down the row of seats. He heads toward the concourse, either planning to get a drink to drown his embarrassment, or planning to leave entirely.

I don’t really care which, and now that he’s gone, I turn my attention to Margo. She’s laughing, her hands pressed to her cheeks, which are bright red. At first, I think the kiss cam is still focused on her, but when I look over my shoulder, I realize the camera operator is now filming me.

I take the opportunity to let everyone else in the arena know that Margo is mine by kissing my glove and then pressing it against the glass. She kisses her fingertips and puts her hand on the other side of the barrier, and I hear several spectators cheer. This makes Margo laugh even harder, and she shakes her head at me, her gray eyes shining.

I mouth the words, I love you, then turn and skate back across the ice.

It’s nearing the end of the third period, and we’re still only up by one. We scored again in the second, but the Pioneers answered back early in the third with a tricky goal. It’s obvious that both sides are fighting as hard as they can for the win, since the Pioneers have also had a few losses in a row. We each have a lot to gain here, and it shows. Every player on the ice is sweating, pushing themselves as hard as they can.

This is how great games are won.

But it’s also how major injuries happen.

Reese passes me the puck, and I take off toward the opposing team’s net, but before I can even think about firing a shot, a freight train of a player slams me into the boards. I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder, and there’s a crunch that sounds even worse than it feels as my helmet hits the glass. The crowd groans, but I manage to stay on my feet.

Still, Dunaway immediately yells for me to get off the ice, and I know it’s the right call. Somehow, my arm got pinned behind my back when their defenseman body checked me. My shooting shoulder, the engine that powers my slapshot, is definitely tweaked a bit.

I hustle to the bench with only a couple minutes left on the clock. Nobody scores for the remainder of the period, which means we take the W, and the crowd roars as the game ends.

I rejoin my team on the ice for handshakes, and then Dunaway insists that I let our physical therapist, Vanessa, look at my shoulder.

She’s already waiting for me when I head into the training room. She’s there during and after every game, just in case someone gets really banged up on the ice, but I haven’t personally needed to sit down with her since last season, when I was tripped and nearly busted my ankle. She makes me put my right arm above my head and do some circles with it, and even though it aches a bit, I’m still perfectly mobile.

“Alright,” she says after another minute of poking and prodding me. “Just rest for the next day or two. Use ice if it bothers you tonight, then switch to heat in the morning. Come see me tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll let you know if you can play in the game later this week.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I say with a smile, and she leaves me alone to shower and get changed.

Back in the locker room, as I’m packing up my things, Reese and Theo both check in on me.

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow,” I say. “It’s just a little muscle tear. I can’t remember the last time one of my muscles didn’t feel like it was torn.”

“I hear that.” Reese chuckles. “I don’t even want to know how much money I’ve spent over the years on Icy-Hot.”

The two of them leave, and since they were the last ones in the locker room besides me, I sit alone in silence as I finish gathering my things, moving a bit slower than usual. After a bit, the door squeaks behind me, and I glance back to see Margo poking her head inside. She’s got her eyes closed.

“Is it safe? Is anyone naked?”

“Just me,” I say with a smirk.

She opens one eye tentatively, then opens them both and frowns. “You’re not naked.”

“No, but I could be.” I lift my eyebrows suggestively. “Give me five seconds, and I could have all my clothes off, and all your clothes off.”

“Shh.” She glances around as if we’re about to get busted, but she’s smiling. “My sister and April are right outside.” Then her smile fades, and she crosses the locker room toward me. “Are you okay? That was a hard hit.”

“I’m fine. My shoulder is a little messed up, but nothing a little rest won’t fix. It already feels better than it did.”

“You’ve got a cut over your eye,” she murmurs, reaching out and running her thumb across the top of my eyebrow. “How did that happen?”

“I must’ve sliced it a little on my helmet. They’re hard enough to protect you from concussions, but that also means they aren’t exactly the softest things to crash into when you get hit.”

“It’s bleeding,” she says. “Hang on.”

She gets up and goes to the sinks around the corner and wets a paper towel, then comes back and gently presses it to the cut. A little line appears between her brows, and I watch her, entranced by the way she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she concentrates.

“What?” she says when she notices me staring at her. “Does it sting?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I feel great.”

She takes her hand away a few seconds later and scrutinizes the cut. “Okay. I think it’s done bleeding.” She huffs out a little laugh. “That was quite the exciting game.”

“Yeah, it was.” I grin, looping an arm around her and pulling her onto my lap. She ends up straddling me, her knees on the bench beside me. “I tweaked my shoulder, we beat the Pioneers, and I almost had to beat up some guy in the stands.”

She flushes all over again, shaking her head as a smile tugs at her lips. “I wouldn’t have let him kiss me, you know.”

“It wasn’t you I was worried about,” I say darkly.

The guy never ended up coming back to his seat. I’m pretty sure he ended up sitting somewhere a lot farther back from the ice, which is just as well. I needed to focus, and I couldn’t have done that if he was anywhere near my eye line.

“I didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Margo teases, sliding her hands through my hair.

My arms tighten around her. “With you, I am. I can’t help it.”

“Well, thanks for coming to my rescue.” She pauses, then adds, “Although… you do realize I wasn’t the only person in the stands wearing your number, right? There were probably hundreds of fans at the game wearing your last name on their back.”

“It’s different when it’s you,” I insist, running my hand up her back.

“How?”

“Because one day, it’s gonna be your last name too.”

The words slip out before I can think about them, before I can consider whether or not they’ll scare her. Margo’s eyes go wide, her jaw falling open on a soft gasp as she registers my meaning. Then her hand tightens on my hair, and she crushes her lips to mine. I kiss her back until we’re both panting, and when we break apart, her gray eyes gleam with emotion.

“I love you, Noah Blake,” she murmurs. “So fucking much.”

“I love you too, Sunflower.”

Lifting her in my arms, I stand up, then deposit her gently back on her feet. I give her ass a little slap, making her yelp.

“Now, come on,” I say. “Your sister and April are waiting for us, and I’m starving.”