“What are you two talking about?” she asks, tucking her hair away from her face.
“You.” Kali smiles. “And how wonderful you are.”
“Okay, Mom.” She rolls her eyes, but I see her soft smile. “Did Dad give you that jersey, Hannah? He usually hates when women wear his name and number.”
“Does he?” I ask, spotting at least five Saunders jerseys in the surrounding area. “Why?”
“He doesn’t like the attention it puts on him apparently? If that’s the case, maybe don’t be a professional athlete.”
“So true, Liv. Don’t tell him this, but I’m only wearing it so he feels included.” Grant skates up to the glass and motions my way. “Be right back!”
“Are you having fun?” he practically yells when I get down to the ice.
“Am I done?” I yell back.
He rolls his eyes. “FUN,” he yells again, and I grin.
“I heard you the first time. Dude. Nice game tonight. Who are you showing off for?”
“Just want the fans to see a good game.” The buzzer sounds, and he lifts his glove. I bump his knuckles against the glass. “Wait. Whose jersey is that?”
“Ethan’s. He’s a BC boy, and it felt weird to wear something that belonged to the other guys when I’m friends with their significant others,” I say, easily pulling the lie out of my ass.
“You couldn’t think to wearmine? Geez, sis. Appreciate the support and havingEthanpicked over me.” He groans. “He’s such a fuckboy.”
“Relax, G. He’s not old enough for me.”
“Please spare me from the details of your personal life,” he says. “Gotta go. Don’t want Coach pissed at me!”
“Have a good third period!” I call out, waving as he skates back to the bench.
When he does, Brody’s eyes bounce away from the small whiteboard he’s holding. Twenty thousand fans are cheering, but with one lift of his chin, his attention is zeroed in on me.
He holds up his finger, gesturing for me to spin, and I blush. I turn, skipping to my seat and giving him the perfect view of the back of my jersey and his name stretched across the back. He uncaps a marker with his teeth, scribbling something on the board then holding it up.
I squint, trying to read what it says, but I can’t make it out. I take a photo and tell myself I’ll zoom in on it later, not when I have a nosy teenager looking over my shoulder.
And, I’m glad my focus is on the game, because Grant comes out of intermission like a bullet. He scores his third goal and sends the arena into a frenzy. Hats go flying onto the ice and play stops. He does a lap, accepting high-fives and hugs from his teammates while he soaks up his first career hat trick. I scream so loudly, I almost lose my voice. I’ve never been prouder.
Later, after the pandemonium dies down and the Stars win by two, I pull my phone out of my purse. I zoom in on the picture I took of Brody’s whiteboard, discovering the secret only for me.
Mine.
THIRTY-SEVEN
HANNAH
It’s beenweeks since I stepped foot in the Skating Club of Washington’s rink, and I stop to say hello to some familiar faces on my walk to Justine’s office.
“How are you feeling?” Tierney asks, falling in step beside me. “Talking to Coach is scary, but important.”
“I’m kind of shitting bricks. I’m a grown woman. Why am I dreading this so much?”
“Because it’s a conversation about your future, and that’s terrifying. Did you decide what you’re going to say?”
“I’m going to talk about a hybrid schedule and mention that while I’m feeling rejuvenated, I’m not ready to fully commit to high intensity training. But I do want to be more present with the club again.” I cringe. “I hope all of it makes sense.”
“It does.” She takes my hand when we reach the door tucked away at the back of the rink. “I’ll be here when you’re finished. We can either celebrate with a glass of wine to welcome you back or bitch about shitty business decisions over a glass of wine.”
