Extraits

“Bryce, I would lose the Cup every year for as long as I lived if it meant I got to live those years with you in my arms. And I would rather hang up my skates and never step on the ice again than take a risk with your life. There is nothing—nothing—that is worth risking you for.”

He steps closer until we are forehead to forehead. “I am not the only one here who feels this way.”

“But this is everyone's dream—”

“No, our dream was for you to heal. Our dream was for you to come back to us. That's what everyone wants, more than the Cup.”

Loving Hunter is turning me into the best version of myself I can be. It's like I'm finding depths and openings and room to grow inside my soul, parts of me expanding and unfurling as I discover I am more than I thought I was. Happiness fills me until I think I'm going to burst, and when I believe I cannot be happier than I am this moment, or the next, or even the next, Hunter glances at me, or smiles at me—

“Yeah, remember? The organizers said they were working on a special guest,” Radulovich pipes up from the very back. He’s a defensive player like me. He's six-five and two hundred fifty pounds, and he's terrifying on the ice. But off the ice, he’s one of the nicest guys in the league.

“I thought they meant, like, an actor or someone like that,” Phillips says.

“I was hoping for Zendaya.”

“We’re the NHL, dude. We don’t get Zendaya.”

His blue eyes flare when they meet mine. A moment later, Bryce beams, and the full force of his smile—the same one I’ve seen on ESPN, Sports Illustrated, and Men's Health—hits me like a slap shot in the center of my numbers.

He cuts through the small crowd surrounding him and heads right for me, his hand outstretched like he’s saying hello, like he wants to introduce himself. To whom? I look over my shoulder, trying to spot the bigger, better player shadowing me.

Bryce slides to a stop, snowing my skates.

“Hunter Lacey.” His smile widens. He has a sharp Quebecois accent, and the upriver French cuts through his spoken English like a melody. “Bonjour.”

Holy shit, he knows my name.