Yeah, hockey comes first.
Looking relieved, Brock says, “Well, when you do get there, it sounds like it’ll be peaceful and relaxing.”
“It does,” I agree. “Whether it’s sooner or later, it’s going to be me on the beach, soaking up the sun, sipping on some kind of a fucking frozen tropical drink, and enjoying the solitude with not a care in the world.”
All true.
After the stress of the regular season and now these high-stakes playoffs, not to mention the constant media and fan attention, I’m looking forward to spending time at that beach house fuckingalone.
It’s the last six minutes of the third period of game seven in what has been an exciting, very evenly matched series between the Phoenix Bears and the Colorado Avalanche, and I’m still in awe of the fantastic seats my best friend and business partner, Shay Milton, scored for us.
“These seats are so damn good, girl,” I gush for about the tenth time this evening. “I still can’t believe you were able to nab these for us.”
Okay, it’s actually only been five incidents of me blurting out this sentiment in awe—well, before this time, of course.
Not that it matters. Shay knows me and is aware I’m a gusher, especially when I’m impressed.
Chuckling, she just shakes her head, her long dark ponytail bouncing, and agrees, “Yeah, I got lucky on the fan resale site that someone was selling them. They are pretty great, Willa.”
Not only are these seats fantastic—center ice, first row up against the glass—but the game has been a good one, a real nail-biter.
Not in the traditional sense. There hasn’t been a bunch of goals. No, in this case, both teams are so defensively locked down that no one has scored…yet.
It feels like the first team who does will probably win the game.
Then the series will be over.
That’s why my Bears have to get a goal, damn it. I’m a Phoenix girl through and through, having been born and raised here. I even attended college at Arizona State.
That’s where I met Shay. We were assigned as roommates our freshman year and became fast friends.
We roomed together all through school, dorms and then apartments. Now that we’re twenty-six and college is far behind us, we no longer live together, but we do run a successful business—wedding planning.
Though, after a rough breakup last month that kind of fractured my heart, I wish day in and day out that it was something else. It’s tough seeing all those happy couples so in love.
That’s why I’m taking a break for a few weeks. I leave in three days. It’s our busy season, yes, but Shay understands.
She more than understands, actually. She’s the one who insisted I go. She even made my reservation for me.
And damn, she outdid herself.
Using a joint travel fund we both started a long time ago, she went big and booked me a stunning beachfront property on a private island in the Bahamas. From the pictures she showed me, the house is stunning. Think bright white contemporary with lots of glass, breathtaking views of the ocean, and a totally private pool area and beach.
I can’t wait.
I don’t even care that I’m going by myself.
I just need a break and some time away.
I wish it was for more than three weeks, though.
Speaking of weeks, a guy on the opposing team named Weeks gets slammed up against the boards when Shane Thoma, one of the Bears players, checks him hard as fuck.
It happens right in front of us, shaking the glass. In fact, it’s so intense that all of the people in the front row jump back in our seats.
“Whoa, what a check,” I blurt out.
Shay, meanwhile, is yelling, “Yeah, that’s how you do it!”
