I join in the fun, getting down on all fours, wrestling with the boy and dog. Then I grab Stella’s legs and pull her down to our level. She yelps, but we all enjoy the crazy moment, giggling together like we’re one big happy family.
I’ve never wanted something so badly it scares me, until right now.
CHAPTER 15
THE B WORD
STELLA
At the white-outgame on Thanksgiving Day, Aiden munches on a corn dog, proud to wear his white jersey swallowing his small frame. The number six is stamped on the front. The name Lewis stretches across the back, just like mine.
Eli made sure we have jerseys of every color now, whether home, away, or alternates, as if there are many more games to come in our future. Things are happening so fast between us, we’ve hardly talked about what’s ahead for us, a conversation that is probably coming due.
Our seats are right up against the glass, on the end where the Aspens will be twice. Close enough that I can hear skates carving ice and sticks snapping passes—and to spot Eli. There he is. When he spies us, it’s a quick flick of his mouth, a crooked grin just for us. After all this time, he still makes my butterflies flutter inside of me.
Aiden and I sit with the WAGs tonight, in the nicest seats in the arena behind the goal. These women are friendly and warm, and stylish in a way that feels effortless. Knee-high boots seem to be popular among them, some with high heels, leather or suede, brown, burgundy or black, and most with a high designer price tag that I definitely cannot currently afford.
They kindly ask about Aiden and compliment his jersey. They tell me I got the best seat for viewing number six playing. A few of them have their children with them, so babies get passed around from lap to lap, and the older kids play on the stairs unless someone is trying to get by.
As the game gets underway, their conversation drifts to holiday shopping and home renovations. They talk about their favorite Instagram influencers, and private schools with long kindergarten waitlists, and referrals for nannies who travel with families on vacations to beaches around the globe.
I smile, nod, and sip my soda. It feels a lot like I’m listening to a foreign language, sitting next to a whole new world.
“Stella, you’re here.” Relief floods me when Michelle appears, with Aspen the mascot lumbering behind her and waving to the crowd. Tyler’s sister looks like she belongs anywhere she stands—jeans, a black blazer over a t-shirt, and a brunette ponytail with cute bangs. Of course, boots too. But there never seems to be any pretense about her.
Aiden bolts the second Aspen crouches to high-five the kids and give them candy, and Michelle slips into his seat beside me.
“I’ll save you for a minute,” she whispers, grinning. She nods toward the WAGs. “They can be a lot.”
I exhale. “They’re nice. Just different.”
Before she can answer, a whistle shrieks. “Hunter with a two-minute minor penalty for high-sticking,” the announcer calls.
She rolls her eyes. “Typical Mason. The hothead on the ice.”
Instead of cutting straight across to the sin bin, he takes the long route. When he passes the glass, he looks straight at Michelle and winks and blows her a kiss in a flash. If I blinked, I’d have missed it.
“Well, that’s a look that could melt a woman’s ice. What’s going on?” I tilt my head, unable to help myself from posing the question.
Michelle snorts. “Nothing. I told you before, Tyler is my brother. There’s an unwritten rule—no teammates.”
“Whatever you say,” I tease.
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
Aiden returns just as the Jumbotron swings our way. The women beside us squeal and wave. Michelle laughs and points before she leaves with Aspen. “Look—you two are on it.”
Aiden waves wildly. I cheer too, caught up in the moment. I think nothing of it. Until a few minutes go by and my phone buzzes.
Jerrod: You’re at a hockey game?
How would he know?
Jerrod: First I get videos of Aiden learning to skate, then I’m flipping through the games and see you on the big screen with my son on sports television.
Jerrod: I have the screen paused on you two. Why are you wearing Lewis’s jersey?
My stomach drops.
