Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

central to Tyler. Tyler fakes a slapshot, passes it to Rob. Rob has a shit angle for
a shot, but Ren swings back around the net just in time for Rob to pass it to him.
Ren connects with the puck and curls it effortlessly inside the net.
“Goooooaaaaalllll!” the announcer shouts.
The buzzer sounds, the light glows red, and we’re all standing, yelling
victoriously. With my earplugs in to dull the roar around us, it’s an oddly serene
moment, watching fans explode, the swarm of players huddling in celebration.
Ren, as always, just lifts his stick, chest bumps his teammates, and skates away.
Calm and smiling as ever.
Matt’s not far off on the bench, breathing heavily from his shift, glaring
daggers at Ren and Rob. He glances over at me and gives me a stony head-to-toe
scan, before he refocuses on the game.
After face-off and in possession of the puck, the Wild sail up the center, but
Ren’s racing with them, skating backward like it’s nothing. My body hasn’t
moved that effortlessly in so long, but I can almost feel what it would be like, the
rhythm as he transfers his weight and cuts across the ice. He’s low, his stick
swinging, and when he pokes for the puck, Ren manages to steal it off of the
Wild’s player again and break away into the attacking zone. Rob’s trailing right
behind him, which of course Ren knows. He pulls right, flicks it to Rob, then
slips behind the defender. Rob feints right, then passes it left to Ren, who slapshots
it into the net.
The light beams red, the horn blows, and Rob wraps an arm around Ren’s
neck with a proud-papa smile on his face. I catch it on my phone and
immediately tweet it.
My eyes traveling down the bench, I see Coach still isn’t smiling, but his
usual scowl is nowhere to be seen, which at this point I’ve learned means he’s
positively fucking blissed.
Ren crosses the center line and squares up, looking focused and relaxed, like
a hat trick in the playoffs is just part of the job. His ruddy red-blond hair curls
under his helmet, his beard shines copper behind his mask, and right before the
puck drops, Ren glances over at me with those icy eyes and grins.
A flood of warmth pours through my body, cutting the chill that always
seeps into my clothes when I’m in the rink.
None of that, Francesca. Don’t make something of this that it isn’t. He smiles
at everyone.
But does he smile at them like that? A tiny, preposterous part of me hopes
not.
I distract myself from those unsafe thoughts by tweeting the video of Ren’s
goal, with a quick caption and the relevant hashtags. When I glance up, Lin’s