Before I can say anything else, Daniel’s eyes widen as he focuses his attention over my shoulder. Turning my head, I see a group of barely dressed women running over to us. It’s a whole whirl of hair and perfume as they start chattering and asking for selfies from all of us.
I do the selfie thing, even though I really don’t want to, giving a tight smile. There is a bunch of chaos when the rest of the team appears, and the girls are still all over the place. There is squealing, giggling, and screeching.
The coach announces that the bus is here, and I reach for my phone in my back pocket to send Wrenly a text, but there’s nothing there. Panic sets in that my phone is gone. Turning in a circle, I pat my front pockets, then my back ones again.
Fuck.
I lost my phone.
I’m positive I didn’t put it in my bag, but I set it down on the floor anyway and start to go through the side pockets, shoving my hand inside. I feel it in there. Taking it out, I frown because I don’t remember putting it in there.
I start to unlock it when Coach shouts my name. I shove my phone in my back pocket and stand, gripping my bag in my hand, and hurry toward the bus. I’ll have to text Wrenly during one of the period breaks.
Jogging toward the bus, I ignore the squealing girls and close my eyes with a heavy sigh as I sink down on the seat.
“That was too fucking much,” Luke grumbles. Turning my head, I open my eyes as I look at him from across the aisle.
“No shit,” I grunt. “How’d they even find us?”
It’s not a secret that we stay in hotels when we travel, and sometimes the puck bunnies find out after the games, but not typically before, so it was a surprise and caught me and probably everyone else completely off guard.
“No clue, but if I had to guess, someone from Hershey leaked it to mess with our heads.”
I snort, then jerk my chin toward him. “I’m locked in tight. They aren’t going to mess with shit this game. I’m ready to school them and get this win over with.”
“And it’s going to be a fucking win,” Luke growls.
“Hell yes, it is.”
WRENLY
My dad has a couple of bottles of beer in an ice bucket next to his chair. We’re sitting outside on the covered patio tonight. Steaks have been grilled, along with vegetables and a baked potato each.
However, it was kind of wasted on Ryan since he just played with it, squishing it between his fingers. But now that the food has been cooked, somewhat consumed, and we are sitting back with a fire rolling, I can’t wait for the game to start.
I’ve told my dad all about Eli. Well, everything but the amazing sex. I’ve decided that there’s no reason for me to keep him a secret any longer. I even told him about the big misunderstanding, and I swear he rolled his eyes at me. I don’t blame him. I feel the same way about myself.
“Now, I don’t know much about hockey, but this is a big deal, right? This game?”
I hum, then tell him what I know, which isn’t much more. Sure, I’ve watched the games for the past two years, but I still have no idea what is going on. The puck gets into the net, that’s a score, and that’s the extent of it.
“It’s a big deal. They’re in the playoffs and headed toward the Calder Cup, which is basically the World Series of their league. But there’s another league, too, which plays for a different championship cup thing.”
My dad is more of a baseball lover, and even though I grew up with that playing in the background of my life, I still don’t know half of the rules. I’ve never really been into sports, always choosing a romance book over anything physical.
“I looked up their salaries,” my dad announces.
I press my lips together. I didn’t discuss money with Eli at all while I was there. He owns a home that he pays for without any help that I know of. He has a nice car, and he didn’t seem like he was hurting for anything.
I assume that he is making decent money. Even though I know a house and car are not a measure of a man’s wealth, I also know that Eli didn’t seem to be trying to impress me or anyone else. He was living his normal everyday life when we barged in. I assume he’s comfortable.
Tilting my head to the side, I watch my father, waiting for him to say something else. He clears his throat before he speaks.
“They don’t make as much as some of the other sports, but he’s not destitute as long as he’s saving money for retirement.”
“I didn’t ask him about finances,” I confess as my phone buzzes with an incoming text message.
My dad says something, but as I stare at the attached picture, I don’t hear anything at all. Not a single word. Because what stares back at me is an image of Eli with that girl from the other night. Maddison. I don’t think I could ever forget her name. It’s seared into my brain.
