We’re surrounded by thousands of people in a sold-out arena, yet I feel like Matt and I are in a bubble all our own. But it pops the second the starting line’s announced, anthem’s sung,and the puck is dropped, the clock clicking away as the first period begins.
My legs are bouncing uncontrollably on the footrest beneath me, my jaw clenched and locked tight. The sounds of skates on the ice, the puck hitting the boards, and players shouting are echoing in my ear like gunshots, each one jarring me.
My breaths bounce with my legs, staccato, as I inhale through my mouth and out of my nose. As hard as I’m fighting it, they keep quickening instead of slowing.
Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.
Pathetic. Stupid.
I’m so far from the ice, the same distance I’ve watched a Nighthawks game from, and I’m losing it.
Ridiculous, Shay. I can’t believe you can’t even get through a single game.
Warmth blossoms atop my thigh, just above my knee, scorching and electric, shocking my system completely.
A sweet voice, barely audible and breathy, fills my ears, overpowering the echoing blades. “I’m right here.”
I expel my panic in a short breath, letting my eyes drift closed as I focus on his hand wrapped around the top of my thigh, anchoring me in place. This is inappropriate and certainly unprofessional. But if it wasn’t for him right now, I’d likely have run out of here or blacked out from hyperventilating.
“Thank you.” My voice is so shaky.
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he brushes his thumb gently against my leggings, the sensation nearly bringing tears to my eyes. I focus on his touch, on the caress, for a few minutes as my breathing slows to a normal rate.
But even when it’s returned to normal, I don’t do the one thing I should and push his hand away. Instead, I lean ever so slightly closer to him and let his fingers stay encased around me.
It’s just a distraction, a way to keep my anxiety at bay during the game. That’s it. It has absolutely nothing to do with the way my body feels like it’s on fire where he’s touching me. Absolutely nothing to do with that.
Shifting to me just enough so I can hear him better, he murmurs, “Attagirl.”
Oh God.
My cheeks warm, and my lips part, my mind immediately putting that record of him saying that on repeat over and over … to distract me from the game,obviously.
If he noticed how much that affected me, he doesn’t show it or make it a big deal. Instead, we stay like that, his hand on my leg, holding my demons down until the first period rolls to an end and the sounds of the blades and sticks on the ice are a little less scary.
“Shay,” Alec Kostelecky calls out from his seat. “Looks like you have a fan here.”
Oh God, did he see Matt’s hand?
Ripping my leg from his grasp, I turn to Alec, avoiding Matt’s burning stare. “What do you mean?”
Alec nods toward the Jumbotron, and I turn to see a little girl, maybe six years old, holding a sign that readsRooting for Rooney.
My chest breaks open, and my eyes well with tears.Shit.
A second video feed pops on the screen, shifting side by side with the little girl, and I see a live stream of myself appear. I look like I’ve just been shot, my face twisted with agony. I fix it immediately, putting on a proper smile and waving up at the screen.
The arena explodes with life, screams and cheers that send shivers down my spine. A few people shout their love for me, and the force of adoration smacking me in the face nearly knocks me out of my seat.
The PR side of me kicks in, blowing kisses and waving as the little girl smiles and cheers. One of her parents takes her sign that she thrust at them, and that’s when I see it—her jersey.
She turns, her two pigtails swooshing on the side of her head, and my last name comes into view. My face softens, unable to hold a smile any longer.
But that’s okay because this isn’t sadness streaming down my face. It’s joy and pride—something I haven’t felt in a while, especially notbecauseof hockey.
I can’t believe how loud they’re cheering for me. It’s almost too much to bear.
Her smile can’t get any bigger, and she waves at me like I’m her hero. Something breaks inside of me … or heals—it’s hard to tell from the pain right now.
