He recovers immediately, fights his way free, passes the puck back toward Zane, and seconds later, Zane scores. The arena explodes around us in cheers loud enough to vibrate through the floor beneath my feet.
For a moment, I forget about the ice. For a moment, I cheer.
During the break between periods, the Jumbotron flickers to life above us. I relax slightly because the break gives me something else to focus on besides the constant motion on the rink.
“I love this part,” I say automatically.
“What is it?” Gwen asks.
“They film famous people and awkwardly make them wave,” I explain, laughing lightly.
The camera slowly moves across the crowd. Actors. Sponsors. Someone from a reality show. Then…
“No way, James is here,” I gasp before I can stop myself. The camera cuts directly to him. James Perth.
The crowd reacts immediately. The reaction is a strange mixture of cheering and booing, filling the arena in uneven waves of noise. It makes my chest tighten before I even fully understand why.
“Who is that?” Gwen asks.
“He’s on the Hawks,” I say quickly.“Long story. We don’t like him.”
That part is true. Just not the whole truth. Then the camera keeps moving. Closer. Closer. And suddenly…
Gwen’s face appears on the Jumbotron. The reaction is instant. Unlike the mixed response Perth received, there is no cheering now, only booing. Loud. Sharp. Overwhelming.
She waves because that is what you do. Because that is what I told Gwen to do. Because I don’t know what else to do.
“I got booed,” Gwen says once the camera moves on, her voice sounding distant.
“They don’t know you,” I tell Gwen immediately, placing my hand on her shoulder without thinking.“It’s because of that article about the fight at the party. It’ll pass.”
Even as I say it, my pulse is racing. Because suddenly… I see him. Not on the screen. In person. Standing two sections away. Watching. James Perth.
And for a split second, I am no longer in a hockey arena, surrounded by friends and noise and light and safety. Still, back in hallways and airports and hotel rooms, where every conversation felt like walking across thin ice. I was always scared it would crack beneath me if I said the wrong thing.
My hands start shaking. I turn back toward the rink immediately so nobody else notices. Except someone does. Leo. He doesn’t say anything. He just shifts slightly closer beside me and hands me another drink. It’s like he already understands what I’m trying not to show.
I take it. Smile. And keep watching the game like nothing happened at all.
Chapter 15
Blake
I don’t notice Perth immediately, which should bother me more than it does. Noticing James Perth has been part of my job description for long enough now that I usually recognize him before he even steps onto the ice. Tonight, however, my attention isn’t where it normally is. Instead of tracking the opposing roster or scanning the crowd for familiar faces, I keep finding myself watching Lisa without meaning to. It’s the way you watch someone when you’re still trying to convince yourself that what you’re feeling isn’t permanent yet.
It happens during the second period.
One second, she’s leaning forward slightly, elbows resting against the railing like she’s actually enjoying herself, laughing at something Tess says. At the same time, Gwen points toward the Jumbotron, and the next second, something changes in her posture so subtly that anyone else would miss it completely.
But I don’t. She goes still. Not tense. Not startled. Still. Like someone who just heard their name spoken in a room they thought they were alone in.
At first, I assume it’s the crowd again. The Jumbotron moment earlier wasn’t exactly subtle, and getting booed by an entire arena isn’t something most people brush off easily, but this feels different from embarrassment, discomfort, or even anxiety.
This feels personal.
So I follow her line of sight. And I see him. James Perth. Standing two sections over like he belongs here. Like he always does. And suddenly the entire moment makes sense in a way I don’t like at all. Because that reaction wasn’t random, that reaction was recognition.
I don’t say anything about it during the rest of the game, partly because there’s no way to have that conversation in the middle of a packed arena. Not with Zane’s parents sitting three seats away, pretending not to be disappointed in everything around them. The other reason is that Lisa recovers so quickly afterward that if I hadn’t been watching her closely, I might have convinced myself I imagined it.
