Red Line (THE GAMES WE PLAY #1) by L.A. Witt EPUB & PDF

Red Line (THE GAMES WE PLAY #1) by L.A. Witt EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

  • Status: Available for Free Download
  • Authors: L.A. Witt
  • Language: English
  • Genre: contemporary romance
  • Format: PDF / EPUB
  • Size: 5.6 MB
  • Price: Free

THEO
Last season
For the two long years I’d been playing in the minors, I’d
dreamed of finally getting the call-up to our NAPH team, the
Seattle Rainiers. Even if I didn’t stay up—if I never actually
made the roster for any length of time—I wanted to play at
that level so bad I could taste it.

Last season, I’d finally been called up for one of the road
trips. I’d almost lost my mind on the plane, but shortly after
I’d landed… disappointment. The left winger I was supposed
to replace was going on LTIR, but one of the other injured
forwards—one who’d been listed as week-to-week—had
suddenly been available. I’d dressed and skated during
warmups but watched the game from the owners’ box. The
next morning, I was on the plane again, and the following
evening, I was playing in Everett in the PHL like normal.

When I’d been called up this time, I’d been so afraid that
would happen again, but it didn’t. Two nights ago, in
Vancouver, I’d finally hit the ice for real. That had been the
coolest experience. I’d only played about six and a half
minutes, but I’d done my rookie lap and I’d skated alongside
players I admired, and I’d even managed a secondary assist.
But tonight was the game I’d really been looking forward
to.

Not only would I be once again playing for the Rainiers,
not only would we be going up against the Denver Mustangs
(my favorite team growing up), but it was Pride Night. How
cool was that?

The Rainiers always had incredible Pride jerseys, which
were then signed and auctioned off to benefit queer charities.
The design for this year’s jersey hadn’t been revealed yet,
but there would be one with my name and my number, and I
couldn’t fucking wait. Ten years after my parents had
cautioned fourteen-year-old me against coming out if I
wanted to play pro hockey, I was going to play my second
ever major league hockey game on Pride Night after wearing
a Pride jersey during warmups.

Maybe it was stupid, but I had literally never been more
excited about a game in my life. Not the Junior World
Championship gold medal final. Not my first game on the
PHL team. Not even my first game at this level.
My first major league Pride game.

Hell yeah.
But when I strode into the Seattle Rainiers’ locker room,
the jersey hanging at my stall was the usual home jersey.
Blue with gray and black. No rainbows. No Pride insignia. All
the sticks along the wall had white or black tape on the
blades and handles.

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