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"Go, babe!" Zoe shouted from the bleachers, and I’ll f*****g admit it—those corny pet names of hers stirred some internal noise in me. Damn, woman. She could literally just stand there and somehow make me lose my s**t in the best way possible. I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips, knowing she looked so comfortable now, owning the fact that people were calling her mine.
Because, well… that’s the truth. She’s mine.
Shit, it’s probably embarrassing to admit I’ve got butterflies over it—but, man, have you met her? She’s incredible. Smart. Sexy. Hilarious. And right now, she’s up there screaming for me like I’m her personal MVP.
The only thing ruining this moment? Preston.
The asshole’s standing right in front of me on the ice, looking like he’s about five seconds away from l
