Surprisingly, there’s a flicker of recognition in those blue eyes as they lock with mine. It’s enough to make my cheeks flush slightly when he reaches out to shake hands.
“We’ve met a time or two. Nice to see you again.”
“You too.” His hand seems to linger on mine for a half-second after we’ve finished shaking, but that could also totally be my imagination. Especially since he still looks like he’d rather take a hockey puck to the face than suffer through small talk. Which, of course, I take as a personal challenge. “That was an impressive save out there at the end of the third period.”
I’m not sure if I’m channeling my daughter, my sister, or my brother-in-law, but it’s enough to make those blue eyes flicker again. It’s definitely not a smile, but it’s something.
And if I’m being honest, that makes me feel like I’ve just scored a goal of my own.
“Thanks.” He nods as if he’s assessing me all over again. “That’s just what I do.”
There’s no cockiness in his tone, just simple honesty. And according to everyone everywhere who knows anything about hockey, making good plays is just what Grant Parker does.
“It must have been that good luck ritual you do,” I say before I have a chance to think it through. Only when his brows knit together and he gives me a questioning look do I start to backtrack a little. “I mean, maybe it’s not a ritual—that three-tap thing you do on the goalpost?—but it did seem to be good luck.”
“Oh, that. Huh.” He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Sounding almost bewildered, he adds, “I’m surprised you noticed that.”
“I mean, not that I was watching that closely. Not watching you that closely, I mean. I was watching the game. Just…” I swallow hard, and can feel my cheeks starting to burn as Margo and Noah stop talking and turn my way as well. “I’m not making this better for myself, am I?”
“No.” Grant shakes his head and I can see the corners of his mouth twitch like he almost wants to smile. “But thanks for coming and watching the game. Just the game, of course.”
Oh god. Will the floor please open up and swallow me whole right now? Please?
April has been holding her own meet and greet with every Aces player in a ten-foot radius, so she’s been completely oblivious to my foot-in-mouth moment. Thankfully, she interrupts just in time.
“Mom? Declan Murray just said he’ll only sign my jersey if we promise to come to all the home games when we move here, so can we?”
I chuckle, arching a brow. “Tell Mr. Murray he drives a hard bargain.”
She considers for a moment, then frowns. “That’s not a ‘yes.’”
“Yes, sweetheart, we’ll do our best to come to the home games once we move to Denver.”
“Promise?”
With Grant, Noah, Margo, April, Declan, and probably half a dozen others looking at me and waiting in suspense, what else can I say?
“I promise.”
Chapter 2
Grant
The easy back and forth between Heather and her daughter almost makes me smile. I don’t know much about Margo’s sister, having only spoken to her in passing at a handful of team functions, but it’s clear that she is the kind of parent who has made sacrifices for her kid. The kind who works hard so her kid can have the best possible shot at making something of themselves.
I respect the hell out of that.
Honestly, I’m not even sure how I got talked into joining Noah and Margo out here in the friends and family lounge. My parents are gone, and the only people I’d call friends are all on the team with me.
There’s something keeping me here, though, and it isn’t the promise of food or listening to my teammates relive each play as if we weren’t all right there to experience it together the first time.
As if I haven’t already picked apart every second of the game in clinical detail on my own. As if I won’t watch and re-watch the highlight reel a million damn times. As if I don’t already live and breathe the sport to the point that I don’t even have time to think about friends, family, a social life, or anything more serious.
But I’m not complaining. Just stating the facts.
Hockey saved my life, and it’s been the driving force in my life through the highest highs and lowest lows since I was a kid.
I turn again, and my eyes settle on Heather. Purely by accident—not that I was seeking her out or anything—but there’s something about her smile or her laugh or maybe just her voice that seems to draw me in until I’m subtly leaning in closer to hear what she’s saying.
