Dominik

by Sawyer Bennett

  Not one single person can bear to sit—including Billy, who bounces up and down in his wheelchair. Everyone is out of their seats or huddled at the back row in the common area.

  Dominik and I hadn’t even taken seats, preferring to stand in the common area. We can see the action just as well since the rows dribble downward and don’t impose on the line of sight. Dominik always stands during the games, having too much nervous energy to stay still.

  My breath catches as the puck gets knocked loose and one of the Demon players snags it, taking off toward our net. He has a good jump, too, and by the time our players start the chase, he’s a good five feet ahead.

  “Oh, shit,” I yell, still clutching Dominik’s hand in a death grip. I feel him go utterly still as he watches what might be the end of his dreams, but I do the opposite, jumping up and down while I scream at the top of my lungs.

  Kane Bellan, the guy we traded Rafe for, is the closest in pursuit. Legend is in the net, crouched with legs spread, waiting for the inevitable clean shot.

  Kane can do one of two things. He can either drag the player down by potentially hooking his skate, which will end up being a penalty shot for the other team, or he can just try to put pressure on him to make him fuck up his shot. Not really good choices because, either way, they’re going to get a shot on goal.

  By some miracle, or because Kane ate his Wheaties this morning, he gains enough ground on the guy that by the time he’s ready to wind up and take his shot on goal, Kane is able to get his stick within reach of the puck.

  It’s enough as the Demon takes a quick wrist shot on Legend, but he whiffs on it, causing the puck to actually scuttle along the ice. Legend is able to butterfly, going to his knees to stop the biscuit and covering it quickly with his glove to stop the play.

  Everyone in the box—and probably the rest of the arena—lets out a huge sigh of relief we’re still in it.

  The red light comes on in the scorekeeper’s box, signaling a TV timeout, and the players skate off toward the bench to grab water and a breather. I manage to unlock my digits from Dominik’s.

  He grins, giving his hand a bit of a shake. “If you and I ever get to a point in our relationship where you’re in labor… remind me not to hold your hand.”

  I bust out laughing, noting my mom whip her head around from where she’s standing in front of us. Those parental ears are apparently trained to pick up any hint of information that might reveal how serious Dominik and I are about each other.

  I find it adorable, but I resist the urge to tease her.

  “Want something to drink?” Dominik asks, his hand going to my back.

  “A shot of anything to calm my nerves,” I say, not really serious. But he must want the same because he heads over to the bar where a few other people are rushing in to grab drinks during the roughly two minutes we have before play starts again.

  Pepper and Brooke join me, and I see Blue helping Billy drink some water. He suddenly looks exhausted.

  “This is torture,” Pepper whines. I suspect she, more than any of us, had the most stress on that last play since it was her man facing off against the breakaway player.

  “Legend’s playing an amazing game,” Brooke says as she loops her arm around Pepper’s shoulder. “He’ll carry us through. Now we just need to get one of the others to freaking score so we can go home and relax.”

  I dip my head to see out to the scoreboard hovering over the ice. Only eleven seconds left to go in regulation play. If a goal is going to happen, it’s going to have to occur on the first few passes from this faceoff, which is an almost impossible feat.

  My dad turns in his seat, clearly having been listening to us. He pulls his wallet out, then takes out a twenty-dollar bill. “I’ve got twenty that says we’ll score in regulation and put this series to rest.”

  We all just blink at him in surprise, especially at the vehemence in his voice. And because no one wants to bet against such confidence—despite the overwhelming odds against his prediction—we all smile and politely decline.

  My dad smirks as he returns the money to his wallet, but he leans over the back of his chair and confidently declares, “Mark my words. We’ll win in regulation.”

  “God, I hope you’re right, Dad,” I say with a laugh.

  “First time I’ve ever heard you say that to your old man,” he mutters with an eyeroll, and I snicker.

  “Okay, babe,” Dominik says from behind me. He places his arm over my shoulder, dangling what looks like at least two fingers of bourbon in front of me.

  He comes into view, stepping up to my side and holding his own glass. Tapping the edge against mine, he says, “Cheers.”

  I smile. “Cheers.”

  We both tip our heads back and down the liquor. Dominik is man enough to empty it in one swallow, but it takes me three.

  Still, the burn in my gut and the immediate rush of euphoria from it says it was much needed. By the time the game starts again, I’ll probably be very mellow.

  The thought causes me to laugh out loud, and Dominik bends to get closer. “What’s so funny?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Just that the liquor will go straight to my head, and you’ll probably need to carry me out of here after the game.”

  “Hmmm,” he growls low in his throat. “I like the idea of you being extra bendy to my will later tonight.”

  “As if you need liquor to get me there,” I scoff, giving him a playful push.

  Dominik’s gaze moves out to the ice, and his jaw hardens a bit. The players are back out on the ice, which means play is resuming soon.

  It also means the stress is coming back and no matter how much bourbon we down, it’s not going to dull the intensity of the stakes.

  All talk ceases in the box and a few people hurry back to their seats, but no one sits down. We’re all on our feet, prepared to ride this out.

  The linesman steps up to the faceoff circle. We have our first line on the ice, which is our best shot at securing a quick victory. Centers usually take the faceoff, so Tacker’s in the circle, prepared to get the jump on his opponent.

  The linesman tilts forward slightly and the rest of the players plant themselves, ready to spring into action.

  The puck is dropped and Tacker is lightning fast, managing to get his blade on it. Like an orchestrated dance, it shoots right onto Bishop’s blade and he’s already a full stride away from the circle and gaining ground on the Demons’ net.

  That faceoff was everything. So lightning fast, so perfect, that Bishop is streaking down the ice. Dax is on the opposite side when a Demon defender manages to get in between them and the goal.

  The arena erupts in a massive, rumbling roar of encouragement from the crowd.

  I slip my hand into Dominik’s, squeezing the ever-loving fuck out of it. He doesn’t say a word, but merely leans forward slightly, his eyes narrowing in on the action. I start jumping in place, screaming, “Go, go, go.”

  Bishop continues to maneuver down ice. The Demon player starts to commit, but Bishop skillfully passes it across to Dax as they race toward the net, forcing the defender to square up in the opposite direction. Dax closes in on the net, drops his left shoulder, and winds up. The goalie now has to commit as well. The Demon forward tries to poke the puck away from him, but Dax expertly hands it off to Bishop, who now has a clear and unobstructed path.

  As the puck glides across the ice toward Bishop, he merely puts his blade on it and gives it a tiny flip. It starts to tumble end over end and by the time the Demon goalie tries to move into place, the puck is dropping over his shoulder and into the net.

  It seems like time stands still for a moment, everyone wondering if we did, in fact, actually just score the game-winning goal, but then that beautiful red light behind the net starts to blaze in glory… and the fans go berserk. The roar is so deafening I feel a slight pressure in my head and the next thing I know, I’m in Dominik’s arms and he’s swinging me around and around and around.

 
I laugh, holding him tight.

  I get glimpses of the others in the box as he spins me. My parents hugging, Billy bouncing up and down in his wheelchair, and Regan with tears pouring down her face.

  Holy shit. We scored an almost impossible goal given the time on the clock, all but guaranteeing the victory. There’s only 2.7 seconds left in the game, and it’s not enough time for the Demons to do anything with. There are few moments in my life where I can recall being happier than I am now.

  Dominik finally puts me down, and I steady myself with a hand on his chest. I take in the action down on the ice, searching for my brother. He’s with his linemates, all hugging and patting each other on the helmets. The replay is on the jumbotron and everyone is screaming as they watch it happen again, this time in slow motion.

  I’m pulled into hugs, same as Dominik. There’s nothing but pure jubilation circulating.

  Regan and I hold each other tight. She’s giddier than most as her husband just handed off the most perfect assist to create the goal opportunity.

  Down on the ice, the game isn’t quite over. The linesman gets the players lined up for another faceoff, but it’s obvious in the droop of the Demons’ shoulders. They know they’ve lost.

  The puck drops, Tacker gets his blade on the puck first again, right in between Dax and a Demon player. They fight for control, but it’s futile. The buzzer goes off, which signifies the end of the game.

  The Arizona Vengeance have won the conference finals and they’ll be playing the Cold Fury for the championship.

  Green, blue, and silver confetti pours from the rafters of the arena, and the rest of the team swarms the ice. More hugs and shouts of joy can be heard in the owner’s box. My dad pulls me into a bear hug that knocks the breath out of me.

  Dominik gets swept off, everyone wanting a chance to hug the owner—the man who made this possible.

  We catch stolen peeks at each other through the crowd. I know Dominik will have to go down to the ice soon, but he starts sidestepping people to make his way back to me first.

  His eyes are locked on mine, and I have never seen such a mixture of emotions on his handsome face. Joy and triumph tempered with a hard look of determination. If we weren’t in a room full of people, some of which are my actual family, I’d say it’s the look he gets when he wants to drag me off to bed and fuck me.

  Which I’d be all for.

  Dominik weaves in and out of people then, finally, stops in front of me. Once again, I’m in his arms and he’s swinging me around. I’m laughing and my head is spinning. Yeah… one of the happiest moments of my life.

  Setting me down gently on my feet, Dominik puts his hands on the sides of my head and gives me a hard kiss that lasts forever, but still isn’t long enough. We both start grinning into the kiss until we’re laughing.

  He pulls back just a few inches, his entire face awash with happiness and promise for the future. He looks like he could conquer the world, and I believe he can.

  Dominik’s grin is so wide it’s infectious, and I’m smiling like a silly fool right back.

  Dropping his hands to my shoulders, he blurts out a statement as if he’s been keeping it in for a long time. “Let’s get married, Willow.”

  It’s like I can hear the screech of a needle on a vinyl record. Everything sort of freezes for me. I’m vaguely aware of everyone else around us still laughing, shouting with joy, and pretty much acting crazy over the win.

  But there’s only Dominik and me, staring at each other, and his words echoing in my ears.

  “Married?” I ask, my tongue feeling thick and swollen in my mouth.

  “Yes,” he exclaims. “Married. I’m crazy about you. I’ve fallen madly in love with you, and I know it’s fast—”

  “So, so fast,” I interrupt as I try to take a step back from him.

  He holds on to me tightly, giving me a chastising shake of his head. “Yes, it’s fast, but we’re there. I can feel it. You’ve pushed past your fears and jumped into this with me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Willow. I know damn well I can make you the happiest woman ever if you’ll just take that leap with me.”

  My head is spinning, and it has nothing to do with the victory or the bourbon I’d slugged down moments before. I’m also slightly nauseated, which has everything to do with the fact I don’t want to let Dominik down, but I’m also pretty freaked out right now.

  “Dominik,” I say softly… okay, pleadingly. My hands go to his chest, and I have no formulated thoughts. Just a lot of emotions in my head right now. “This is just too fast for me. And yes… I’ve taken the plunge with you, and I really like you a lot—so much—but I’d like to just stay the course the way we are right now.”

  “You like me a lot,” he repeats back. I’m so relieved he heard me that I miss his dull tone and the flatness in his eyes.

  “Yes… I’m crazy about you, too, but you need to put more thought into this. I know you’re excited about the win, but think this through. I mean… you should think about a prenup. You’re a multimillionaire—”

  “Billionaire,” he mutters.

  I laugh, knowing that I have no concept of how rich he is will always be our joke. “Yes, okay… a billionaire. A hot, eligible billionaire, and I’m poor by comparison. You need some protection and—”

  “I don’t want any protection,” he cuts me off, and I jerk a little at the harshness of his tone.

  The jubilation in his expression is gone now. There’s no more eagerness in his eyes. I shot him down flat, and I feel like shit I took away his joy from this victory.

  “Look,” I say softly as I step in closer. “Let’s talk about this later.”

  “It’s a simple yes or no answer, Willow.”

  I cringe, knowing how this is going to sound. “Then, for right now, it’s a ‘no,’ but I really would like to talk about this some—”

  “I have to go,” he says, starting to turn away from me. He has obligations down on the ice. There’s going to be an awards ceremony and press interviews.

  “We’ll talk about it tonight,” I call after him, but he doesn’t look back. He moves through the box with purpose, ignoring other well-wishers who try to nab him to offer congratulations. They seem stunned by his brush-offs, but he’s out the door and gone.

  “Are you okay?” Regan asks, appearing at my side.

  “Did you hear that?” I say.

  “I heard him ask you to marry him,” she murmurs. “So did your parents for that matter.”

  I crane my neck to look back at them, and they’re watching me with worried eyes. They might not have heard the entire conversation, but by the way Dominik just strode out of here, it’s clear I didn’t give him the answer he wanted.

  “He caught me off guard,” I say, trying to excuse my lame-ass response to his proposal. I mean… I stand firm in my feelings on the matter—it’s way too soon—but I suppose I could have handled it better.

  Rather than getting that deer-in-the-headlights expression and pulling back from him, I could have kept it a bit more lighthearted and teasing. I could have laughed, hugged, or kissed him. Promised him the idea had merit, but that it would be better suited for a more private discussion. Perhaps in bed with champagne and strawberries.

  Instead, I acted like his offer of marriage was the most abhorrent thing I could imagine.

  I handled it awfully.

  But we’ll work it out. He’s on his way to bask in the glory of victory now. He’ll be in a better mood later and maybe on the way home from the arena, I’ll do dirty things to him in the limousine he’d arranged for us tonight.

  It will be fine.

  I’m sure of it.

  CHAPTER 24

  Dominik

  Rolling my wrist, I give a quick flip of my hand and the yo-yo extends smoothly down the string.

  Reaches the bottom, spins for a moment, then starts climbing back up. When it reaches the top, I perform the same motion again.

  I do this as I pace back
and forth across my living area, unable to settle down. Tonight’s been the most emotionally charged evening of my entire life.

  My team pulled out a spectacular win to launch us into the Cup finals. The fucking high in that moment was incredible.

  I proposed to my girlfriend, convinced she was feeling the same for me that I was for her. She turned me down flat, and I came to the realization I didn’t know anything when it came to Willow Monahan. Fuck her and her risk aversion.

  I left her in the owner’s box, and I didn’t look back. As I made the journey down to the ice, surrounded by team executives and two State troopers, I told myself over and over again to put her out of my mind. Now was my time to celebrate with my team and bask in all the glory that came from a hard-fought battle.

  But I couldn’t.

  Couldn’t fucking put Willow out of my head.

  My entire body seemed to vibrate with this low hum of anger, tempered only by an internal hollowness over how quickly I’d fallen from such a high.

  Not once during all the times I’d replayed that moment when I’d asked her to marry me and saw that horrible look on her face did I regret asking. I’m not an overly impulsive guy, but I do listen to my gut.

  And my gut was telling me to go for it. I took the jubilation, gathered that energy, and hoped to fuck I portrayed it in just the right way that she couldn’t say no.

  Without any doubts, I knew I was in love with Willow, and I was ready to commit my life to hers. Thus, I’ll never regret asking her.

  I do find fault with myself for failing to read her correctly. Truly, I thought she felt the same. It was all there… her bringing her family into our circle and the way she stood by my side as a partner when I invited the team over. The way we make love and the way we fuck. Two vastly different things, but both filled with trust and deep intimacy that has never felt this way to me before.

  Our conversations. We can talk for hours, and she knows me better than anyone.

  I thought I knew her better than anyone, but that’s something I’ll continue to castigate myself over.