Behind the Net (Vancouver Storm, #1)

by Stephanie Archer

My blood sings with the truth: Pippa is mine.

It’s heaven.

This is what it’s supposed to be like, I realize.

Do you know how it makes me feel to see my name on your back, Pippa?”

In this moment, we’re the only people in the universe. Nothing else matters. There’s no family drama, no exes, no worries about careers or the future or getting our hearts broken. It’s just us. “Songbird,” I whisper, because I love her. Her eyes meet mine, full of affection, and for a moment, I think she might love me, too.

She’ll ruin me. I think she already has.

I love this girl. I’m not ready to tell her, because it feels dangerous and risky, and more than anything, I want what I have with Pippa to last. I can’t tell her that I love her, but I can show her.

Finally, fucking finally, I’m going to show Pippa who she belongs to.

He hesitates, watching my reaction, and I smile, because Jamie’s sweet, kind, and caring.

I nod, meeting his eyes, and his gaze is hot, desperate, and admiring, all in one. I’m already addicted to him looking at me like that.

Even like this, he’s so controlled and careful.

He was there for me today at the recording studio. He’s been there for me all along.

It’s never been like this before.

“I need you so bad. I’ve always needed you.”

So watchful, this guy, in every aspect of his life. So careful with me.

Later, I’m going to write a song about this moment—being so connected to someone, feeling like nothing exists but me and Jamie.

I can’t believe I ever thought I couldn’t have this.

Pippa. My chest eases the second I think of her. My pretty songbird. My strong, beautiful, brave Pippa, who sings on stage when she’s terrified and gets back on the ice. Now that I have her, losing her isn’t an option. I won’t fuck this up.

“I’m sorry—” I start. “I want to thank you—” she says at the same time. We stare at each other with equally confused expressions.

She’s right, I would have tried to fix her situation without any idea of how.

We sit there a long moment in silence, and when I go back to that old guilt over what I did, I find nothing. A weight lifts.

“Enough about the past.” She studies me. “What’s new with you?” “I met someone.” I say the words without thinking. Pippa is the biggest, brightest part of my life, and I’m excited about us. Telling Erin feels right. Her eyes turn soft and she smiles. “Is this the girl I saw on the sports news?” A laugh scrapes out of me. After my last game, the sports networks showed clips of me smiling at Pippa behind the glass. Streicher shut out after a Streich-ing smile! they said. It was the first time they’d seen me smile in public, the sports anchors joked. “Yeah.” I nod at Erin, and a smile twitches on my mouth. “That’s her.”

This thing with Pippa is going to last. I can feel it.

In the mornings, Jamie Streicher is warm, sleepy, and sexy as hell.

I could get used to this. I could get used to this so hard.

“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly. I smile up at him. “You make me feel beautiful.”

“Pippa.” He dips his head to catch my eyes, and his fingers come to my chin, tilting my face up to his. “I don’t think you understand.” His eyes are steady, warm, kind, and serious. “Anything you want, songbird? It’s yours. Where you’re concerned, money is no object, because making you happy is worth it.” I shouldn’t love this. I’m not a material person, and money isn’t important. Jamie being generous and wanting to please me, though? It makes me melt. “I’m buying you the dress, and you’re not going to argue. I’m going to buy you more things, and you won’t argue about those, either.” His eyes hold mine. “Okay?” I nod wordlessly, trying not to smile at his satisfied, possessive expression. Bliss—I think that’s what this feeling is called.

“You can tell me about this stuff. We can figure it out together.”

Pippa is mine, and he has the fucking audacity to reach out to her.

My fucking heart. Pippa has it in the palm of her hand.

The whistle blows as Calgary’s goalie catches the puck, and I turn to get a drink of water, locking eyes with Pippa behind the glass. She smiles and gives me a small wave, and I nod at her, spraying water through my mask, thinking about how good she looks in that jersey. My jersey. My chest pulls tight at the sight of her, here, supporting me, wearing my name proudly. This girl is everything to me.

I inhale sharply. I see it now. He used to pull this shit when we were teenagers. His dad would say something to upset him, and he’d hit the ice in a mood. He antagonizes players, he fires up the fans, he makes himself the villain so everyone will see him like he sees himself. The guy hates himself, and he’s flailing out here, hoping someone will give him what he deserves.

“Done?” he asks. He means the fight, but I think he means this seven-year tension. I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth. Blood smears over my skin. My chest heaves for air, and adrenaline whistles through my veins. Something shifts between us, and my anger deflates. I don’t want to be angry anymore. I just want to move on. I glance at Pippa, who’s peeking through her hands with a worried expression, and my heart clutches. I don’t want to hold a grudge, because life is too short and sweet. I give Pippa a nod to say I’m okay.

“You think I’m handsome?” “You know I do. Bossy and demanding, but unfairly handsome.”

I’ve never heard the arena like it was tonight. The fans were livid and bloodthirsty. Watching Jamie fight tore my heart out, but it also tugged on something between my legs. He looked like a warrior, all power, strength, and brutality. It was hot.

Tonight, I’m going to take care of my goalie.

There’s something in his eyes that I like, a little bit of pride, a lot of arousal, and a possessiveness that sends a shiver through me.

“How’s your face feeling?” His laugh is low. “Hardly feeling it right now.” He drops a kiss onto my shoulder, and I smile. “You’re the perfect distraction.”

His other hand settles around my neck, gentle but possessive, and I only want to be his.

“I want to tell you something,” he murmurs. My heart stutters. “I—” He stops himself, searching my eyes. I wait, and it feels like I’m standing on that cliff edge again, clinging to it. I’m equal parts terrified and excited at whatever is about to fall out of his mouth. He blinks like he’s pulling himself back, reining it in.

“We’ll take your bags,” the valet says. “I hope you and your wife have a wonderful stay.” I open my mouth to correct him. “Thank you,” Jamie tells him, guiding me to the front door. I look up at him in surprise, and he just winks at me. Wife? I’ve never even considered that word. I’m only twenty-four, but hearing that word in Jamie’s vicinity makes my breath catch. Wife. Jamie’s wife. My mouth pulls into a smile and I bite it down.

“Like I have eyes for anyone else.”

Something thrashes in my chest, desperate to get out. What if I told him how I felt? The damage is done; I’m in love with the guy. I’ve been telling myself that keeping it a secret will keep me safe. It’ll hurt less if it ends. Is that true, though? Or will not telling him how I feel be one of my biggest regrets? I think about how he’s encouraged me over the past few months. What’s the point of learning to push myself out of my comfort zone if I don’t do it for the things that matter? Jamie matters. I think he might matter more than almost anyone. Touching what’s mine, he said earlier, and something stirs in my chest. Floating in this blissed-out, happy, in-between zone is starting to not be enough for me anymore. I need to tell Jamie how I feel.

“Pippa.” He says my name like a prayer, taking me in. He blinks at me like I’m a dream. “You’re so beautiful.” He pulls his hand out of his pocket, holding a small black box. “I got you something.” He flips it open, and my lips part. On a delicate silver chain, a blue-gray stone catches the light, sparkling brilliantly. It’s the same color as my dress. Something warm floods my chest and it’s hard to get a full breath. “It’s beautiful.” I glance up at Jamie, and he’s watching me with interest. “It’s too much,” I tell him, because my heart is exploding into confetti right now. “Do you like it?” I nod, gazing at the necklace. I can’t help but smile. It’s gorgeous. “I love it.” “Then it isn’t too much.” He gently lifts the necklace out and unlatches the clasp with impressive dexterity. It’s so funny, seeing his big hands hold something so dainty. He tilts his chin at me. “Turn around, songbird.” His voice is low, and a shiver runs down my back. I do as I’m told, and Jamie drapes the necklace over me. More shivers run down my spine as his fingers brush the back of my neck. “There,” he says, and I turn. His gaze drops to the necklace, and when he gives me that small, serious smile, my stomach does a slow, warm roll forward. “Beautiful.” “Thank you.” I bite my lip, looking down at the necklace, running my fingers along the fine chain. “I love it.” “Good.”