In the end, I decide against saying anything at all. Vesper’s holding back, and judging by the final look she gave Silas beforehe left, I’m fairly certain it isn’t about her undying love for the Rogues captain.
“Hockey players are hot.”
“Blake!” Billie Richards, wife of Emmett Richards and mom to one of the most iconic teenagers I’ve ever met, swats her daughter in the arm. “We’re here to support your dad’s team, not ogle them.”
Seated next to me in the family box, Blake rests her chin in one palm, elbow braced on the armrest. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Drew.” She inconspicuously flicks her eyes to me. “But all the girls in school have serious crushes on your boyfriend.” She sighs heavily. “He’s really freaking dreamy.”
“He’s really freaking something, is what he is,” June pipes up from the other side of Vesper. Who, incidentally, has said very little since we left our apartment and drove in near silence to the arena.
“Yeah, well, you would think that, June.” Blake sits back in her chair. “If someone thought my brother was hot, I’d definitely react in the same way.”
“I’m merely concerned about the size of his ego,” June counters. “Any bigger, and his helmet won’t fit.”
She smiles warmly at me, and for the first time, I consider what it would be like to have her as a sister-in-law. Much like her brother, June and I have always been opposites—and not just because she’s amazing at hockey, unlike me, who can barely hold a stick the right way up. In all likelihood, June probably knows more about the game than Will.
“Which player are you interviewing this time?” I ask, trying to keep a track on her sports journalism business, which has been going viral the past couple of months.
She rolls her eyes and pulls out her cell, clicking the screen a few times before showing me. “Tristan Vaughn. Will’s favorite person in the entire world,” she sarcastically adds.
I cringe a little. “Does Will know yet?”
Shaking her head, she locks her phone and repockets it. “Christ, no! It’s going to be a surprise drop on my socials next week, and Tristan’s rep has offered to collaborate on it, too, which should generate a few more followers.”
“Silas might be interested in an interview.” The second I say his name, Vesper locks in on the conversation right as Will nets another goal, sending the Rogues one ahead against the Philly Flames.
June cocks her head to one side, now addressing both me and Vesper. “I’ve heard he’s grumpy these days. Don’t get me wrong; I’m more than capable of dealing with a moody man, but I’m not wasting my time if all I get is three words and a couple of grunts. I’m keeping this interview on the down-low in case I decide to abandon it altogether.”
Vesper bursts out laughing and points at June. “You so remind me of your mom. Kate stopped by the apartment the other day and floored me when she explained how she’d been deliberately drying Jensen’s ‘ugly’ shirts on a high temperature just so she didn’t have to look at them any longer.”
“Queen behavior,” Blake chimes in. “You should definitely start doing that with my brother’s crappy Colorado merchandise, Mom.”
While the girls bounce back and forth between each other about gross clothing, grumpy men, and hot hockey players, I center my attention on the only man I’ll ever see again. The guy whose name I currently have stamped across my back.
Picking up the puck just beyond center ice, he takes on one Philly defenseman, dekes the next, and with a wrist shot I don’t see coming, propels the puck straight between the goalie’s legs.
I’m aware of the arena noise when I stand from my seat and make my way to the balcony, resting my arms on the railing next to Jensen as he watches his son bump fists with my dad and the rest of the team. It’s clear he lives and breathes every second whenever Will takes to the ice or his daughter posts her latest interview.
“It’s a good thing you were a goalie and not a forward when you played,” I muse, eyes diverting to the jumbotron, the camera zooming in on Will and his teammates.
He puffs out a laugh and nods. “Even better that I didn’t have to face him. I thought your dad was good, but, goddamn, Will might just be better.”
I nod once, knowing none of what Jensen said is rooted in bias. Will really is that spectacular.
For the first time since the game started, Jensen tears his eyes away from the ice and focuses on me.
“The way he feels about you is exactly how I felt—and still feel—about Kate.” He tips his chin at the jumbotron, and like he can sense us talking about him, Will stares straight at me.
“I won’t break his heart if that’s what you’re worried about,” I reply, mine skipping a beat when Will tucks his stick under one shoulder and holds up three fingers on one hand and four on the other—his way of showing that goal number thirty-four for the season is also dedicated to me.
My heart jerks again, struggling to establish a steady rhythm.
Jensen just smiles like that was never his concern. “He asked me to pass on a message, and now that I have you alone, I might as well do that.”
He pulls a set of car keys from the inside of his jacket pocket and hands them to me.
The same set of Ferrari keys from that night at the gala.
I look down at them and then back up at Jensen, who checks his watch.
