I turn to Murph. “Talk to me after the game if you don’t believe me now.”
* * *
Winter
It’s been so long—too long—since I’ve watched Hunter play hockey in person. His games have been my guilty secret since he hit the pros, but I haven’t been to a game since high school. Scott, Peyton, Ashley, and I are sitting at center ice with an amazing view of the game. Scott’s got his arm around Peyton, and Ashley’s flirting with the two guys on her other side while I sit and watch Hunter warm up with his teammates.
I’m so excited, and having Peyton and Ash with me brings back a lot of memories.
“Remember how we’d have to drive to Baton Rouge to watch him and his brothers play?” I laugh. “A bunch of southern boys playing ice hockey.”
“I know. It’s amazing the four of them were able to make the pros,” Ashley says.
“Their dad saved up for them to travel north and go to hockey camps every summer,” I say. “He took out a second mortgage on his house in order to afford their training, and it ended up paying off.”
“Mr. Storm would be flipping out to see a professional team in New Orleans,” Peyton says. “I hope they last.”
“It’s been three years now, which is three years longer than I would have thought it would stick.” I glance around at the arena. “And it’s packed tonight.”
“It is.” Ashley shrugs. “People come to socialize and relax. I don’t know if they really understand the sport yet. It’s growing on them, though.”
“What they need is for the Fire to win a championship,” Scott says. “That would increase interest in the sport around here.”
“The city would go nuts if that happens,” Peyton agrees.
We stand and cheer for the player introductions.
Then, the game starts.
And I’m immediately transfixed.
Unlike my two best friends.
Like they used to do in high school, Peyton and Ashley tune the game out as they get into a long chat across my lap. First, it’s something about Peyton’s shoe business. They move on to Ashley’s job as social media expert for a marketing and PR firm. She’s advertising new wedding accessories right now, and she talks about flash gold temporary tattoos and how fast they’re selling. I miss the rest of their conversation because I’m too busy watching Hunter.
He assists on New Orleans’s first goal and helps kill a power play by Montana. Then, he splits two defenders on a breakaway and slides the puck past the flailing goalie.
I’m screaming so loudly I know I’ll be hoarse later.
I’m certainly no hockey expert, but I’ve been following Hunter’s career for years, and even I know when somebody’s on fire. Hunter’s freaking hot tonight, and he knows it. After he scores a second goal on a one-timer from the right circle, he punches his stick in the air and points to where we’re sitting. I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face.
And when he slams a defender into the boards right in front of us, I stand up and shout.
“Go, Hunt!”
As I sit back down, Scott chuckles.
“Didn’t know you were such a cheerleader,” he says. “Your enthusiasm’s infectious.”
Ashley and Peyton are grinning at me.
“What?” I stick out my tongue at them. “I’m rooting for the Fire. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Peyton takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. “It’s good to see you happy, Win. We’ve been worried about you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask her. “I’m okay.”
Ashley narrows her eyes. “Are you?”
