He laughed as Lucy smiled. “All right, love you guys.”
“Love you,” they both said and Lucy hung up as she pulled onto the street her apartment was on. Letting out a long breath, Lucy was pretty sure she could hear her bed calling her name. She wouldn’t keep it waiting much longer. She was ready to fall face first into the happiness of her bed.
She parked and reached for her purse, but before she could get out, Angie wrapped her arms around Lucy’s neck and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mommy.”
Relaxing as her lips curved, Lucy leaned into her daughter’s head. “I love you too, honey. Did you have fun tonight?”
“I did. I love hockey so much and Coach Adler is so awesome and Benji was so much fun.”
“Good, I’m glad.”
“You should be nice to him.”
“I am,” Lucy said, looking over at her.
But Angie gave her a deadpan look. “You think he’s weird.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m not nice.”
“Mom, come on, just give him a chance. He’s supercool. I think you’d love him.”
Looking into her daughter’s sweet green eyes, Lucy couldn’t bring herself to tell her that she’d never love anyone again. How could she? Nope, she’d let her baby think that there were good, loving men out there, but Lucy knew the truth.
But she said, “I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, do,” Angie said, using her words against her. “He really is great. Really.”
“Okay,” she agreed and Angie must have been pleased with that answer because she kissed her on the cheek loudly before getting out of the car. As Lucy gathered her things, she pushed the door open and couldn’t help but think about the fact that Benji made one hell of an impression on her sweet girl. That should mean something to her. Should impress her, but it didn’t.
Not really.
Okay. Maybe a little.
But it didn’t matter.
Because Benji Paxton wasn’t the guy for her.
Hell, no man was.
Leaning against the boards, Benji watched as the Stars rushed the puck into the Assassins’ zone. Their offense was on fire, their passes were lethal, and that damn Seguin kid was a superstar. Within seconds and without anyone really noticing, he top-shelved it, hitting the top of the net over the head of Odder, the Assassins’ goalie.
Goal.
Fuck.
Leaning back, Benji shook his head, taking a long pull of Gatorade. The Assassins needed more depth in their defense. Their defense was made of all kids, except for Benji, Sinclair, Karson King, and Jordie Thomas. Coach had paired Benji with Sinclair, and then King and Thomas were together, so the other line was kids from the AHL. They needed some power in the back because, even though they were stacked in the offense department and they had a great goalie, there had to be someone to help Odder out.
At least, he thought so.
Letting out a long breath, he looked up at the Jumbotron and saw they were one down with seven minutes left.
“Time to do work,” he said with conviction to the guys around him, Vaughn on one side and Sinclair on the other.
“Yup,” Vaughn agreed, basically bouncing on the bench.
“Let’s do this,” Sinclair said just as Coach called out their line, twenty seconds after the puck dropped. Going over the boards, he rushed to where the puck was left for him behind the goal. As Benji’s boys set up, Tate tapped his stick to the ice in hopes of riling up the boys. The crowd was loud; they loved their team and Benji loved them. Time to make them proud.
Carrying the puck out, Benji shot it up, hard, down the middle to where Erik Titov was waiting. But when he went to pass it to Vaughn, who was basically in the net with the Stars’ goalie, one of the Stars blocked the pass. Passing it up to another player, he took it, racing down the middle and catching the Assassins on a two-on-one.
Benji was the one.
“Fucking hell,” he yelled as Sinclair pushed hard to get back down. He wouldn’t make it. The Stars player passed it to the other one, and he looked as if he was going to shoot. So Benji dropped down, stretching his body completely out in the hopes that, if he did pass it, Benji would block it. Praying to God above, he closed his eyes, hoping he didn’t get hit in the mouth.
Dude did shoot, and it didn’t hit Benji in the mouth.
But it hurt.
Right in the spot below his ribs where his pads weren’t protecting.
Gasping for breath, he popped up just as Sinclair came in, taking the puck and passing it back up. Going straight for the bench, Benji tried to watch as their offense did work, but he missed when they scored the tying goal. The arena went nuts, as did the bench while Benji sat down, the pain still very much stinging in his chest. As Anderson skated, tapping his glove to everyone, he pointed to Benji.
“Wouldn’t be tied if it wasn’t for you, BP. Attaboy!” he called out with an extra tap on Benji’s head.