Hat Trick Chelsea Curto Quotes

Fuck it,” he whispers, kissing me again. “One night. Let’s play, Lexi.

Can you read the last three things I have on there?” “Sure. Let’s see. Get Lexi to like me. Get Lexi to fall in love with me. Get Lexi to spend the—’” She jerks her chin up to look at me. “Riley.” “Get Lexi to spend the rest of her life with me,” she whispers.

I love you,” Lexi murmurs. “So very much, Riley.” “I love you too, Lexi baby.” I move my mouth to her forehead and kiss her there too. “Today’s been a pretty good day, huh?” "No.” Her arms wrap around my waist, steady and safe. Home. “It’s been the best day.

Funny how all my good days include her.

You want to know why I’ve had all those good days? Because you were there. Because I’ve been a idiotic, pathetic mess of man since the first day I saw you.

Riley. I’m⁠—” “Fully capable of handling things by yourself. I know that. But guess what? Accepting help doesn’t make you weak, okay?

We have to take care of each other, you know? Too much shit going on in this world to not have love in our hearts,” Lamar says.

I want you to give me my right leg back so I don’t have to be humiliated day after day after fucking day.” I wish I fucking could, because seeing you so mad at the world hurts, I almost shout.

If you want to run, I’ll chase you. If you want to build a wall to keep me out, I’ll climb it. If you need time, I’ll give it to you. I’m patient, Lexi. I’m going to be waiting for you when you come back. However long that takes.

You want to know why I’ve had all those good days? Because you were there. Because I’ve been an idiotic, pathetic mess of a man since the first day I saw you. I can’t think straight when you’re around. I can’t walk right when you smile at me. I can’t… I can’t fucking breathe unless you’re looking at me. And everything in your past might have fallen apart, but we won’t. We can’t, because deep down, I know you love me too,” I say.

I’m a work in progress.” “You are. We all are. You’re not alone.” “I know I’m not.” He gives my hand another squeeze and pulls away. “Thank you for being patient with me.” “Patience is something I’m working on,” I say. “And showing up is something I’m working on.” “I’m really proud of you.

I’ve been broken for months. Half of who I used to be physically and mentally, but when I’m with her, it feels like I’m on my way to being whole again. Every laugh of hers is a stitch that sews the busted-up, ugly parts of me back together. Every smile is a balm to the aches that linger around, and little by little, I’m on my way to being who I used to be.

I wish I had the balls of a mediocre white man who thinks he’s hot shit. I’d be unstoppable.

It feels more and more like my heart isn’t even my own anymore. It’s hers, and I think it’s always going to be hers.

You’re my best friend, Lexi. Nothing will change that.

Grief isn’t linear. Some days are good. Some days he has the energy to give his full effort, and other days he probably struggles to get out of bed.

You can have me however you want,” I whisper back to her. Take my whole fucking heart while you’re at it.

For the ones who fight even when they want to give up. I’m rooting for you. (And for the readers who love a hockey player that wears slutty glasses… Riley is for you)

The romance books I read are right: having a guy turn a little unhinged and defend your honor is sexy as hell.

I read romance books. I’ve seen my friends fall in love and get married and have everything they’ve ever wanted. I know it happens, I just… it’s hard for me to believe it’s real and true.

What do you say?” I ask. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes to which one?” “All three. To liking you. To loving you. To spending the rest of my life with you, however that might look for us. I want all of that, Riley, and more.” “That’s a hat trick, Lexi baby, and that means I win.” “Win?” She wrinkles her nose, and I kiss away her frown. “What the hell do you win?” “You, obviously,” I say. “I don’t need anything else.

Women in the past have used all sorts of phrases to describe me: cute. Sexy, but in a nerdy way. Hot as hell when I slide a blindfold over their eyes. The man of their dreams when I kiss their wrists, untying them from the ropes I like to use to keep them still while I eat them out.

Today was a very, very good day.” “Yeah?” I smile, heart leaping up to my throat when he rests his forehead against mine. “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?” “One for the books,” he murmurs, nose bumping against mine. He bends his neck and kisses me soft and slow, out in the open where anyone could see, and I let him. “You’re my favorite person in the entire world.

I’m a good boy, Lex,” he tosses back. “You don’t have to worry about me.

Jesus Christ. Riley Mitchell is hot.

I can keep my firm boundaries in place, but being here, seeing his body outside the confines of the fluorescent lights in the training room and away from the arena where we have very specific roles is like seeing him for the first time, and, oh. Hell. He’s a man.

He looks down at his naked torso. “Let me, ah, put on some different clothes.” “Really? But the view is so good,” I tease, and his blush deepens. “You’re a goddamn flirt, Armstrong,” he calls out over his shoulder as he makes his way down the hall. “You like it,” I call back, and I swear I hear him say yeah, I do before he disappears, and a strange sensation flutters in my chest.

How are you feeling?” she asks. “You look good.” “I’m getting there.” I squeeze her palms. “You look good too.” “Watch yourself, Mitchell,” Liam says, appearing behind Piper and pulling her to him so her back is flush against his chest. “Which Mitchell?” Piper teases.

How’s everyone feeling?” Lexi asks through her microphone, and Grant wails. “Like I’m going to die,” he whines

Liam and I have an escape plan ready to go the second the auction ends.

I knew about Riley’s crush, but yours is a new development,” Piper says. “I do not have a crush on him. We tease each other. That’s what friends do.” “Ah. I remember when Dallas and I were just friends,” Maven chimes in. “And all those times I thought about climbing him like a tree while claiming it was platonic.” “Same with me and Liam,” Piper adds. “Those are famous last words.

Me I can host dinner this week. I haven’t had anyone over in ages. My doorman is starting to think I don’t have any friends. Mavvy He’s going to be in for a rude awakening when we all show up. G-Money I’m going to make a shirt. RILEY AND GRANT 4EVER

One day people will acknowledge your team is held together by successful women,” Emmy says. “And until then, we’re going to order dessert and stuff our faces.

Huddy Boy I think it’s my turn? Fair warning: Lucy is going to ask to paint everyone’s nails before she and Madeline go out for the night. If you tell her no and make her cry, I will not be happy with you. G-Money Don’t let Sully near her lol. He makes everyone cry. Huddy Boy Believe it or not, she loves him. Mavvy Huh. Weird.

Nah. I think I want to make it into a shirt: It’s not what’s under your clothes but what’s inside that counts.

Riley pulls out his wallet and drops four twenties on the table. He bats my hand away when I try to put my credit card on top of the cash. “You’re a good friend.” “We’re just getting started, pal.” I grin at him, afraid to admit this might be the most fun I’ve ever had with a guy. “I’m going to be the best friend you’ve ever had.

There’s nothing I love more than kicking men’s asses and watching them cry. Especially when they think they’re the superior species.

God forbid someone likes to pretend they’re in a fictional world where women are treated right and orgasms are plentiful, because no way in hell does that happens in the reality where I’m currently living.

What about a tiny roller coaster? It could have a double meaning: something crossed off your list, yeah, but also a representation of life. Its ups and downs. Highs and lows. But you always pull into the station at the end, ready to ride again.

ve been broken for months. Half of who I used to be physically and mentally, but when I’m with her, it feels like I’m on my way to being whole again. Every laugh of hers is a stitch that sews the busted-up, ugly parts of me back together. Every smile is a balm to the aches that linger around, and little by little, I’m on my way to being who I used to be.

I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’ve never tried to define it, never tried to wrangle it in so I could accept it, but here I am. Rushing toward it with open arms, desperate to yell out I think I want to give this a chance!

I’ve always been a determined bitch. Once I put my mind to something, I don’t stop until it happens, and I’ll be damned if Riley goes down without a fight.

There are so many white men in this room that I’m worried the New Balance, high-waisted khaki shorts, and white socks stocks might drop while they’re all here.

Men come and go. Love is fleeting, and I don’t believe in romantic soulmates. I believe in platonic ones though, and these girls are mine.

Here’s Lexi Armstrong, the former queen of independence who is turning into a damn sap. How the hell do I make it stop?

Whose arms are the longest?” Hudson asks, and Liam scoffs. “My wingspan is the biggest on the team,” our goalie challenges. “Have you seen me stop a puck?” “You know what they say about goalies and wingspans.

Today was a good day,” I murmur. “They’re all good days with you, Riley,” she whispers, and I hold that as close to chest as tight as I can.

God. Is this what love feels like? Like the first bit of sunshine peeking through the clouds after a rainstorm? Like a warm blanket on a cold day? Like a million stars lighting up a night sky? Like I might not be able to breathe if he isn’t around, and like I’m taking my first deep breath in years when he’s close?

Nah. I think I want to make it into a shirt: It’s not what’s under your clothes but what’s inside that counts.” “Watch it,” he warns. “Thanks for this, Coach.

Book boyfriend level with a boombox on your shoulder and some groveling.

(And for the readers who love a hockey player that wears slutty glasses… Riley is for you)

And I’m going to love you for as long as you’ll let me.

Mhm. The girls loveeeeee you. Especially your slutty little glasses.

Well. You did crawl. Could I get you to bark too?

For a long time, I thought I wouldn’t know what to do without hockey in my life, and now I have it figured out. I have a new purpose besides the sport I love. Something bigger and more important than hitting a puck and lacing up my skates. I can have two favorite things, because it involves proving to Lexi every goddamn day she’s worthy of being treated right, worthy of being told she’s special and brilliant and beautiful, and I won’t stop until there’s not an ounce of doubt in her mind that she’s one in eight billion. One of a kind, my favorite person, and the woman I’m falling in love with.

Pilates studio one day. I don’t know the first thing about creating a business, but according to the internet this book does. I know it’s stupid, but I⁠—” “How do you remember all the things I say?” Lexi’s gaze meets mine. “The limes. My dreams for a studio. That I played basketball when I was younger?” “I listen,” I say. “Most people—” She stops herself mid-sentence and hangs her head. “No one ever listens.” “Because they suck. You shouldn’t…” I trail off, not wanting to sound like an asshole who is telling her what to do. “Don’t spend your time with people like that.

I’m quiet; she’s loud. The life of every party and vivacious as hell with witty comebacks and a laugh that would bring any man to his knees. And if it were me down there, I’d wear a collar and crawl if she asked me to.

I rub a hand over my chest, thinking about the flowers and balloons that were in my hospital room when I woke up. All the food that’s filled my fridge and the low voices I hear when I’m locked in my bedroom. I thought I was losing my mind at first, but the noises turned out to be my teammates—again, according to my mom. They sit in the living room for five, six hours. Sometimes there are hushed conversations. Sometimes I hear video games being played on my TV. Other times—most times—it’s quiet. They don’t try to get me to come out, but I know they’re there. And it makes me cry into my pillow.

I’m not asking you to give me a mile, Riley. I’m not even asking for a foot.” “I hope not. I only have one now, and it would be pretty fucking rude of you to take that from me.

I’m not supposed to have a favorite player on the team—and I love all the guys I work with—but Riley takes the top spot.

She wasn’t finished speaking,” Riley says, deathly low. The look in his eye is murderous. A shiver races up my spine when he curls his fingers into a fist. My cheeks turn bright red when he stares at my boss and tilts his head to the side. “And her name is Lexi. L-e-x-i. That’s not difficult, is it? Treat her with respect and get it right, or I’m leaving.

I’m going to get him skating again,” I whisper to Piper and Emmy. “Lex, I don’t⁠—” “Hockey is his whole life.” I stare at the doors leading to the patient rooms. “I’ll work with him. We’ll do it together.” I’ve always been a determined bitch. Once I put my mind to something, I don’t stop until it happens, and I’ll be damned if Riley goes down without a fight.

You’re a goddamn flirt, Armstrong,” he calls out over his shoulder as he makes his way down the hall. “You like it,” I call back, and I swear I hear him say yeah, I do before he disappears, and a strange sensation flutters in my chest.

What’s what?” Riley glances down. He snorts and reaches into his left pocket. “A lime.” “Do you regularly carry fruit around with you?” “No.” He tosses it in the air, catches it, and switches it to his other hand. “I wasn’t sure Maverick had any. I stopped at the store on the way over.” “You—” I blink. It feels like I’m missing the punchline of a joke. “I’m confused.” “You mentioned you liked limes in your drink. Didn’t know if that only applied to cocktails or all forms of fluid.” “When did I mention that?” “June,” he says simply, and he leaves it at that.

What’s what?” Riley glances down. He snorts and reaches into his left pocket. “A lime.” “Do you regularly carry fruit around with you?” “No.” He tosses it in the air, catches it, and switches it to his other hand. “I wasn’t sure Maverick had any. I stopped at the store on the way over.” “You—” I blink. It feels like I’m missing the punchline of a joke. “I’m confused.” “You mentioned you liked limes in your drink. Didn’t know if that only applied to cocktails or all forms of fluid.” “When did I mention that?” “June,” he says simply, and he leaves it at that. I stare at him. For a second, it feels like the world tilts on its axis, because what the fuck do you mean he brought me a lime because he remembered an offhanded comment I made months ago? And—god. Come to think of it, it was the night we were all out celebrating The Cup. The night he lost his leg. The night his entire life changed.

He’s goddamn beautiful, so much so it feels like I’ve stopped breathing the longer I stare at him, and I can’t believe the fucking audacity of him to hide a body like that under clothes.

They’re not necessarily linear, but if we’re going by textbook definitions, you’ll face bargaining after anger. Followed by depression and⁠—” “Yippee.” “—testing then acceptance. You’ll come to terms with this change eventually. Life will go on. I’m not asking you to give me a mile, Riley. I’m not even asking for a foot.” “I hope not. I only have one now, and it would be pretty fucking rude of you to take that from me.

Some people think of recovery as a straight, flat line. A direct route from point A, which is the onset of grief, and B, which is a new normal. That’s not true. It’s more like rolling hills and valleys. There will be highs and lows, but they lead to the same place. And sometimes, you’ll have a flat line for months before a bump in the road shows up and you have to climb up another hill.

Why are you different? Why should I believe you?” “Because I love you,” I tell her, and she freezes. Her shoulders shake, but I keep going. “I love you so much it fucking hurts, and I know that scares the shit out of you. It scares me too, because how can things be this fucking good with you when the rest of my life is in shambles?” Her chest heaves. Her eyes are wet, and her mouth is halfway open, like she has something she wants to say. “You want to know why I’ve had all those good days? Because you were there. Because I’ve been an idiotic, pathetic mess of a man since the first day I saw you. I can’t think straight when you’re around. I can’t walk right when you smile at me. I can’t… I can’t fucking breathe unless you’re looking at me. And everything in your past might have fallen apart, but we won’t. We can’t, because deep down, I know you love me too,” I say. Lexi’s bottom lip quivers. “I-I need some air,” she whispers. “I need to get out of here.” “If you want to run, I’ll chase you. If you want to build a wall to keep me out, I’ll climb it. If you need time, I’ll give it to you. I’m patient, Lexi. I’m going to be waiting for you when you come back. However long that takes.

Women.” Grant sighs. “So complex. So brilliant. We’re so undeserving.

Do it yourself? I know you can. But here’s the thing, Lexi. I’m not going to be able to sleep. I’m not going to be able to eat. I’m not going to be able to do anything except wonder if you’re okay and taken care of. Put me out of my misery and let me do it for you.

and I won’t stop until there’s not an ounce of doubt in her mind that she’s one in eight billion. One of a kind, my favorite person, and the woman I’m falling in love with.

There are a lot of things I’d like Lexi to do to me—with me and for me too—and none of them are appropriate for the workplace.

Oooooh, Mitchy and Lexi, sitting in a tree,” Grant

The life of every party and vivacious as hell with witty comebacks and a laugh that would bring any man to his knees. And if it were me down there, I’d wear a collar and crawl if she asked me to.

There’s nothing I love more than kicking men’s asses and watching them cry.

Not every day can be sunshine and rainbows. A lot of days suck, but you got out of bed today.

Gonna fucking worship you,

Where’s Mitchy?” “Did you miss me, Armstrong?

They’re all good days with you, Riley,” she whispers, and I hold that as close to chest as tight as I can.

after talking with your prosthetist about your foot measurements, I ordered a pair. They’re, um, custom. The left is the size you used to wear, and the right is slightly smaller to fit your prosthetic foot. I lied the night of the gala. I know your feet aren’t the same size anymore, but I didn’t want to let on about your gift.

Take my whole fucking heart while you’re at it.