That One Night (Jacksonville Rays, #0.5)

by Emily Rath

“You mean aside from the big ‘FUCK YOU’ you’ve got tattooed on your forehead?” He gestures at my face with his hand. I purse my lips. “Oh, so you can see it. Good. For a minute there, I thought it must have washed off in the shower.”

Dead. RIP Jake Compton, the best grinder the NHL ever had. He died doing what he loved most.

“Were you afraid you’d lose me to a real man?” I murmur. “Not a chance, gorgeous,” he replies. “You’ve got all the man you need right here.”