“I don’t know.” I huff a laugh, wishing I had the answer.
“Maybe you just… let yourself feel it out. See where it goes.”
“Yeah…”
“C’mon.” Mia tips her head toward the door. “The game’s about to start.”
I sling an arm over her shoulder, and she glares at me—affectionately—because, yes, that’s a thing she does. “You’ve really embraced the whole hockey-girlfriend thing. It’s a little weird.”
She laughs. “Be careful, I might be saying the same about you soon.”
We settle in the living room as the game starts. The guys are playing in Dallas, and even though I’ve never watched a hockey game in my life, I find myself paying attention. Trying to spot number 43 on the ice.
“Miles always looks so serious when he plays,” Natalie comments.
She’s right. He moves with purpose and precision, focus hardening his features.
I think about Miles and his perfectly aligned mugs. His post-game routine. The way he needs everything just so.
I’m smiling. Because, as weird as it is, it’s also kind of endearing.
Mia gives me a look, and Natalie barks a laugh.
The game continues, and I watch Miles the whole time, though I barely understand what’s happening on the ice. The girls help fill in the gaps in my hockey knowledge—which are still a lot.
The Saints win. The post-show plays in the background when Mia turns to me. “You should come to a game?—”
“Yes!” Hannah cuts her off.
“They’re playing at home next Monday, and you’re off… That would be such a nice surprise.” Mia gives me a slightly evil grin.
Boone told me to stop playing it safe.
Well. Nothing says “feeling something” like watching a man who makes your chest ache slam into other men on ice, right?
“Yeah,” I hear myself say. “Let’s do it.”
EIGHTEEN
“You’re zoning out, Cap.”Helm’s voice breaks through as he nudges my shoulder.
I didn’t even notice him skating up. He follows my gaze to the stands, probably wondering what the hell I’m staring at.
He drags a gloved hand across his visor. “You expecting someone?”
“Nah. Just tired, I guess.”
He studies me for a beat, then skates off.
I loop around our end of the ice and fire a couple of pucks on net. Routine gives me what it always does: something I can control.
I skate another lap. Then another.
My gaze wanders back to the stands. The two seats are empty.
Sometimes, Tara and Jim will catch a game. My parents, when they’re in town. Once in a blue moon, my sister and her family. But most of the time, my seats sit empty.
I catch Hannah, Ada, and Natalie in Logan and Fox’s seats, and tip my head in greeting. Natalie’s the only one who waves back enthusiastically. Mia’s seat, next to them, is empty. Running late, probably.
