Kelly Jamieson - Breakaway

“Go!” Remi screamed with the crowd, the noise in the arena so loud it hurt her ears. She surged to her feet along with everyone else. “Go, Jase!”

He lifted his stick, took a swing and blasted the puck at the net. Remi tensed, waiting for the red light—please, please—but the goalie snagged it in his glove and fell to the ice. The whistle blew and the play halted.

“Damn!” Remi realized she was clutching Laura’s arm and hastily released it. “Sorry.” She sagged and dropped into her seat.

“That’s okay!” Laura flashed her a smile. “That was so close!”

Jason skated off the ice and another player prepared to take the face-off.

Remi glanced at the clock. Only thirty-two seconds left in their power play. Only a minute and six seconds left in the game.

Do or die.

She so wanted this for Jase. She twisted her fingers together, gnawing her bottom lip again.

She looked down the ice. The goaltender was out of his net.

“He’s out,” she said to Doug and he nodded. “Why’d they do that? Isn’t that just asking for Phoenix to score a goal on them? How can they play with no goaltender?”

Doug grinned. “They put another player on in his place. That means they have a two-man advantage.”

“But an empty net!” That seemed crazy dangerous.

Her heart leaping, fingers clasped so tightly they hurt, she watched as the puck was dropped. Wolves got the puck. Lalonde circled behind the net and paused. And waited.

“What’s he waiting for?” Remi cried. She vibrated with tension.

“They’re getting set up. Look at the players on the blue line.”

Lalonde shot the puck from behind the net to one of his teammates, and the Wolves played with the puck like it was a pinball, passing it from one player to another, to another, and back again, back and forth, up and down, while the Stars whirled around in front of them, lunging with their sticks, trying desperately to get the puck.

“They need to shoot at the net!” Remi said, eyes darting back and forth to follow the puck.

“They will,” Doug said, patting her shoulder. “Just…wait…now!”

Finally, the opening they’d wanted and Daviduk didn’t even stop the puck, just slapped at it as it shot past him on the ice, directing it into the net.

“Yeah!”

The red light flashed, the horn blasted and the entire crowd in the Metro Center went wild. Remi pumped a fist in the air. She turned to Laura and they hugged, swaying back and forth.

Laura drew back, her smile wide and jubilant, and Remi collected herself. Dear God, she’d just hugged Jason’s mom and she didn’t even know her.

But the bubbly feeling inside her couldn’t be repressed. Amid the noise of the still-cheering crowd, Jason took the next face-off and won it and the Wolves toyed with the puck while the clock ticked down the last seconds of the game. Then the roof nearly rose off the Metro Center as the game ended—the Wolves in the playoffs.

“The puck had fucking eyes, man!”

“No shit! With that traffic in front of the net, I couldn’t believe it went in! You had horseshoes up your ass tonight!”

Jason grinned. His only goal of the game hadn’t been pretty, but what the hell.

His brothers had greeted him as he walked into the lounge at the downtown hotel where they and his parents were staying, but although he accepted their back-slaps and congratulations, his gaze slid past them to Remi. She rose from her seat, her smile so sweet and generous, and he pushed by Matt and Logan and held out his arms.

She flew into them and he held her tight, lifting her feet off the floor as usual.

“Congratulations!” she whispered and then he kissed her, a long, hard, jubilant kiss. “I knew you’d do it.”

He drew back and met her eyes, smiling, his heart expanding, still buzzing from the adrenaline high of the game. Having his folks and Remi there just amplified the high.

His parents waited behind her to congratulate him too, exchanging amused looks. He blew out a long breath and greeted them while Matt and Logan went into the restaurant to get a table there.

“Good game, son,” his dad said, hand on his shoulder. “Your plus-minus was great tonight.”

They moved to the restaurant, him holding Remi’s hand, and crossed the plush carpet to the large, round table set up for the seven of them—where was Tag? Jason frowned and looked around. Tag must have got held up by the press even longer than he had.

At this late hour, few diners occupied the other tables in the posh restaurant and the quiet tinkle of piano music and subtle lighting steadied Jason’s edgy nerves. It was hard coming down sometimes, especially after a game that mattered as much as this one had. He held Remi’s chair for her as she took her seat, smiling up at him. Damn, she was pretty. He sat beside her, lifted her hand and kissed it.

They exchanged a heated glance. Adrenaline equaled sex for Jason, and much as he wanted to spend some time with the family, he wanted even more to take Remi back to his place and fuck her senseless. Fuck them both senseless. He shifted in his chair, then winced. That check into the boards had left a few bruises.

Ah well. It was worth it.

Then Tag arrived.

Jason rose to his feet to greet his brother, almost like looking in a mirror. Tag had an inch and a few pounds on him and Tag’s nose was perfect and straight, but they shared the same eyes and mouth and chin. They stood in front of each other for a long moment. The tightness in the corners of Tag’s eyes and mouth told Jason how his brother was feeling and Jason felt Tag’s disappointment like a stone in his own gut. He wished he knew what to say, but neither of them was very good at talking about crap like that.

“Good game,” Tag said, clapping Jason on the back.

“Thanks, man.” Jason paused, then they gripped each other in a tight, emotion-laden hug.

Growing up as Tag’s younger brother had never been easy. Competition, challenge and conflict had always been there. For most of Jason’s life, he’d tried so hard not to compete with Tag, knowing he could never be as good as his big brother, that he’d gone in the wrong direction, lost his way, almost lost himself.

“Course you wouldn’t have won if I hadn’t let you win every face-off,” Tag said, cracking the tension.

“Bullshit,” Jason rolled his eyes and grinned. “You’re just getting so old your reflexes are slow.” But when Tag’s face tightened for a fleeting second, he wished he hadn’t said that.

Hell. Tag wasn’t old. He was only thirty-one, only two years older than Jason. In his prime.

Although hockey players did have a short career.

He shook his head. Tag was a great player, one of the best, and Jason only wished he could measure up to his big brother.

He pushed that thought aside, determined to celebrate. And not only celebrate the game. He was celebrating Remi being there, celebrating that they were together and that his family was getting to meet her. He eyed them, hoping like hell they liked her.

He introduced her to Tag, the only one she hadn’t met yet, and then they ordered dinner.

“So what do you think, Jase?” his dad asked. “Can you take St. Louis in the first round?”

“Hell yeah.” It was the only answer. No doubt. No fear. “We’ll take ‘em in four.”

“Morsey’s injured,” Tag said. “Probably done for the year. Helluva an advantage.”

“Poor bugger,” Logan said. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna have to improve your penalty killing against them,” Tag said.

Remi’s fingers curled around Jason’s. He glanced at her. “Are you bored with all the hockey talk?” he murmured into her ear. “Sorry. This is what my family’s like when we get together.”

She shook her head and her big aquamarine eyes met his. His body tightened. “I’m not bored,” she said with a small smile, then dropped her eyes.

“Yes, you are.” He let go of her hand and slid his arm along the back of her chair, leaning closer.

“No. I just feel…stupid.”

He reared back. “What?”

She gave him a wry smile and shrugged. “I wish I understood half the stuff you guys are talking about. Even your mom knows more about hockey than I do.”

“Well of course she does. She used to play hockey too.”

Remi’s eyes shot wide. “She played hockey?”

“Yeah. What? Why are you looking like that?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just surprised.”

“Lots of women play hockey. Didn’t you watch the Olympics?”

“Well…yes. Okay, sure. I just never thought about your mom playing hockey. Wow.”

Whatever. He’d never thought much of it, but he supposed it was kinda unusual.

Their low conversation was attracting interested, knowing looks from his family. He grinned.

“Sorry about all the hockey talk, Remi,” his mom said with a smile. Jason watched her. She liked Remi. He could tell. Good, good. Warmth spread inside him.

“That’s okay,” Remi said. She smiled too. Yes! They liked each other. Fucking awesome. He caught his mom’s eye and her smile changed, softened and her eyes glowed. His chest tightened and he nodded, and then to his horror, his mom’s eyes got teary. Ah, hell. He frowned at her and she blinked and gave a little laugh.

“So, Remi.” Tag spoke up. “How the hell did you hook up with a loser like Jase?”

“Shaddup,” Jason said mildly.

Remi laughed. “It’s a long story.”

“How’s business, Dad?” Jason changed the subject again.

“Great, great.”

“Gonna retire soon?”

“Not until one of you comes home to run the store.”