Save Your Breath (Kings of the Ice, #4)

by Kandi Steiner

I didn’t want to be the girl who smiled and said it was all just fine. I wanted to be the lion that roared back and bit anyone who came too close.

Women love to hate other women — especially those who are successful. The internalized misogyny is wild in these streets.”

Aleksander Suter. Winger for the Tampa Bay Ospreys. Notorious troublemaker. And owner of my heart since we were teenagers.

“I mean, a fake engagement between a hot hockey player and a goddess of a pop star? The fact that you two have known each other since you were teenagers? This is trope gold.”

She was too good for me back then. She was still too good for me now. Never stopped me from wanting her, though.

“Well, you’re not exactly jumping up and down with excitement, either.” I smirked. “Is that what you want, Mia? Want me to jump for you?” I leaned toward the camera. “How high, sweetheart?”

“Mia, I’ve listened to every album you’ve ever released, front to back, at least a hundred times.”

“I’m just a girl with a guitar,” she breathes quietly. Her eyes fall to my lips, and my heart hammers hard in my chest. “And I’m just a boy with a stick,” I say, daring to move an inch closer. “But I bet we can rule the world one day, Strings. I bet everyone will know our names.”

“Don’t let them steal your pen when you’re just getting to the good part.”

I’d never been competitive in anything athletic — not a single day in my life. But apparently, get me drunk, put me in a cat mask, and pair me up with a pro hockey player in a game of lawn pong, and I become a different person.

“I’ve been lonely my whole life, kid.”

Because she wanted to hit me, and I wanted to kiss her. And with the two of us forced to stay together for the night, I had no idea how the hell I was going to keep up the charade of anything I felt for this woman being fake.

“You’re so full of yourself,” I said breathlessly, the bite of my rebuttal weak. “You’ll be full of me soon, too.”

“But fuck if I’m not the most selfish prick because the truth is I only want you happy with me.”

I sat just like that, fully seated inside her and feeling how she seemed to relax and melt like she was home. Maybe that’s what I was for her. It was always what she was for me. Never Berne, or Chicago, or Seattle, or Tampa. Mia. She was my home.

“I love you, Mia. I’ve loved you for years. I loved you when you slept down the hall from me and when you rested your head a thousand miles away. I loved you when you weren’t mine to love, and I love you still. It’s not fake. It never has been.”

I realized that day that I don’t have control over what anyone thinks of me, but I do have control over what I think of myself. I know my heart. I know my intentions. I know my talent, my music, my journey.

“Remember how we said fuck our thoughts? Well, I’m pretty pissed at our assumptions, too.”