Stick Your Landing (All In #3)

20. Zach

20

Zach

It’s been a week since the team doctor cleared me to rejoin practices with my team, as long as I wear my bright yellow contact-free jersey.

Everything with concussion protocol moves intentionally slow to protect players, but I’m antsy to play the game I love the way I like. Battling for pucks in the corner. Providing net front to screen the goalie to create a better chance for a shot to go in or to tap in a rebound. Checking guys with surprising force, given my size. Scoring goals on a breakaway. Landing passes on my linemate’s tape. Goofing around with teammates. Celebrating wins.

I miss it all.

“You all right?” Jennings asks beside me in the locker room.

We’re all putting on gear for a long-held tradition of the Palmer City Wolves—family skate. Families in the stands wait for their players to come out. My genetic family’s all in Canada, and everyone in my adopted family is already in this locker room or in the stands waiting for my teammates.

I pull my green jersey over my head, straightening it until it hangs loose over my black shorts. “I’m good. Are you ?”

Jennings shoves my shoulder, getting my subtle message to stop asking me. I’m on my way back to the game I love and have shed every lingering worry my injury could mess with my career. Instead, I’m thinking about the woman I wish was upstairs waiting for me, the one who occupies every waking thought not focused on my game.

I flick the green pom-pom sitting on top of the black hat on his head. “You got anyone here for you today, Princeton?”

“Actually, yeah,” he answers as we head out of the locker room toward the tunnel to the ice. “My older brother’s in town. It’ll be his first time on professional ice.”

“Daddy!” A kid decked out in gear and skates tugs Isak Holm’s jersey. He’s a winger on Jennings’s line and a single dad who went through a nasty divorce in the offseason. “Can we skate together, Daddy?”

He hands his son a stick. “I wouldn’t want to skate with anyone else, bud.”

“Is this the famous Danny?” Sawyer holds out his hand to the boy for a fist bump.

“Princeton!” Danny says. “Briggsy!”

“Hey, kid,” I reply, slapping his hand.

We walk toward the ice at a glacial pace, thanks to Holmie’s kid, but soon enough, the crisp smell of ice fills my nostrils and my blood pumps faster. Niko Halonen—the center on my line and the guy brought in to push our team closer to winning the Cup—speedwalks past me after bumping my shoulder without saying a word.

“Hey, jagoff!” I shout, and Holmie smacks my arm, gesturing to his kid. As if he won’t hear worse language hanging around the team. “We’re walking here.”

Halo spins, continuing to walk backward toward the ice. “Places to be, Briggsy.”

I’m surprised we all fit in the locker room with his ego. He knocks his stick once on the mat before spinning and gliding across the ice, weaving in and out of my teammates and their families.

“He loves himself entirely too much,” Jennings mutters.

“Fu—yeah, he does,” I answer, catching myself before I blurt out foul language again.

“Ready, bud?” Holmie asks, holding his arm out toward the rink. The kid ambles along until his skates land on the ice, and he propels himself forward with Holm gliding alongside him.

I’m still laughing at what Jennings said about Halonen when the skaters part, leaving me a clear path to see her .

My laugh cuts off, and everyone and everything around me falls away. Finley Harris stands in her skates beside Matt and Gemma in the center of the ice. She’s wearing a black Palmer City Wolves hat with ear flaps on each side and a green pom-pom on the top of her head. Her bright blond hair flows down her back over a dark puffer jacket. It’s my luck her jacket isn’t long enough to cover her ass, which looks incredible in dark-wash jeans.

Jennings claps me on the shoulder, shaking his head as he says through a laugh, “You’re so screwed, dude.”

“I don’t—” I start to object but stop because there’s no point hiding this from him. He already knows. Trying to fend off the accusation will confirm it anyway. I’ve always been shit at lying. “I know. She’s so far out of my league.”

“And Cap would kick your ass if he knew.”

I suck in a breath. “That too.”

“What are you going to do?” Jennings asks.

A smarter man would stay away from her. This situation will undoubtedly end with me alone, watching the woman of my dreams move on after having her fun with me. She wouldn’t do it on purpose, she’s too good of a person for that. But the novelty will wear off. She’ll meet someone more confident, more experienced, more capable of caring for her, and leave me behind.

There’s only one way we can end—if she walks away. Because there won’t be a day I don’t want to be around her.

I wink at Jennings, then skate toward center ice, as if I could go anywhere but Finley’s direction. She doesn’t see me until I’m halfway there, a smile spreading across her gorgeous face when her gaze lands on me. My skates slide to a stop, spraying her with a bit of ice. Finley doesn’t flinch.

“Hey, High-flyer, you didn’t tell me you’d be here today.”

Finley glances at her brother, but his attention is focused on Elodie in a stroller with a flat bottom to glide on ice. “Matt invited me last minute. Thought it would be a good time for us to bond.”

I tug one of the ear flaps. “You look good in my team colors.”

Her grin stretches beyond her normal smile while she brings the backs of her hands beneath her chin in a Who me? pose and flutters her eyelashes.

“I think you look good in anything,” I say helplessly.

Finley leans toward me, dropping her voice. “I shine when I’m wearing nothing .”

I look toward the ceiling. We’re below the scoreboard which reads Welcome Wolves Families . “Are you trying to kill me? This is a family event and your brother is standing right there and—”

She places a hand over my mouth, stopping my word vomit. “Skate with me?”

My gaze darts to Matt again, but he’s in conversation with our coach. If he wasn’t, I’d still make this choice, cross this line, because I can’t deny her. I hold out my hands to her. “Let’s go.”

Finley’s head tilts to the side. “I learned how to skate when I was six. I don’t know if you know, but my brothers all play in the NHL. They’re kind of a big deal.”

I keep my hands out to her, waiting. “Tell them you forgot. Besides, you can’t risk falling and injuring yourself.”

“You’ll be my protector?” she asks, placing her hands in mine, sending a zing of energy through me.

I lean in close and whisper, “I’ll be the lucky bastard who gets to hold your hand.”

The flush filling her cheeks suits her. “I would have never guessed the night I met you that you were such a charmer.”

“I’m not.” I glide backward while Finley propels toward me. “I’m not trying to charm you. I mean, I am , but it’s not like I’m trying to play some game or strategize about what might work on you. I’m saying what I honestly think, what I need you to know. If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop, I’ll—”

“Zach,” Finley says, effectively cutting off my rambling. “I like you. I thought I made that clear.” She quirks an eyebrow. “Apparently, I need to do a better job convincing you.”

I blow out a breath. “ Finley .”

“I like how you say my name, like I hold some kind of power. And when you call me High-flyer, I remember how you have my back, how you believe in me. You make me laugh, and you care about what I have to say. You get why gymnastics is important to me. You’re like this ball of light that’s come into my life and made every day better for me. And fuck me, you wear that backward baseball cap so well.”

I huff out a laugh, never more thankful the way I prefer to wear my hat does something to her.

Finley’s head swivels around, and she drops her voice lower. “Every time I’m in bed, I think about what it was like having you there, how much I want to kiss you again, to have you touch me again.”

My heart gallops, and it’s not only the reminder of our morning in her bed. Of the way she suction-cupped herself to my lips, like she needed me to exist. Or the proof of her attraction to me on my fingers when they dipped between her legs. Finley likes me , period. Not only because of who I am, but how I make her feel.

I drop my head. “Finley, I’m barely hanging on here. If you say anything else like that, I’m going to haul you to the locker room.”

Her eyes spark. “Promise?”

I mutter a curse under my breath.

“Okay, okay, I understand it’s not the time. But I… I need you to know I want you around. And you haven’t been since like a week ago… and I don’t know why.”

“Your brother’s home.”

“You have an apartment where we can be alone, which sounds like it might be something you want.”

I grip her hands tighter, pulling her closer to me. “You have no fucking idea how much I want that. But I don’t want to push you or have you think it’s all I want because it’s not. Everything is up to you, all right? My answer will always be yes to anything you ask. I’m happy with whatever we do—or don’t do—as long as you’re happy.”

Finley’s smile fades. “We only work if it’s good for both of us,” she says. With the way, her beaming smile returns, I can almost convince myself I misread her earlier expression. “Though your offer of total control is mighty tempting.”

It’s not surprising, given the little I know about her life. Choices have been taken away from her, but she’s fighting to mold her life into what she wants. I hope she creates a Zach Briggs-size space.

“It’s an open offer.” I grin, my cheeks hurting, the way they always do around this girl who makes me happier than I thought possible.

Finley’s head drops back as she lets out a groan. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Welcome to my world,” I say through a laugh. “I can settle for talking to you.”

“ Settle ? Is that right?” She laughs with me, poking my side.

“Sacrifices must be made,” I say with an exaggerated shrug.

“I’m about to sacrifice you on this ice.”

I tilt my head. “Aw, Finley, a temper is so unbecoming.”

“Wait until we’re alone.” Her hands tighten around mine. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“But it’s on?”

She snorts. “I mean, obviously, after I kick your ass.”

I nod. “I’ll allow it.”

Finley aims for my side again, and I dodge out of the way. “You’re lucky I like you, Calder.”

Don’t I fucking know it.