Page 70 of Home of the Brave

She squeezed her hand and lifted her gaze to mine. Her eyes sparkled with the reflection of the festival lights, and I couldn’t look away.

Never in a million years did I think I’d be sitting here, in a romantic setting, with Victoria Kehoe. Fate had a funny way of twisting things and making us jump through hoops to get to where we’re supposed to be.

Because that was how this felt. Like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

My eyes dropped to her lips, and that seemed to be the signal she was waiting for. We met in the middle, our mouths colliding as her hand slipped from mine before sliding around my neck.

Fireworks went off in my mind.

Hoots and whistles came from below, and I pulled away, grinning back at her before leaning over the cart to see my teammates below.

“They found us.”

“They saw us,” she let out a nervous laugh.

“They did,” I waved them away, but of course, they ignored me, just cheering louder.

17

VICTORIA

“There are pictures,” Cambrie teases as the women prepare for the next faceoff of the second period.

I ignored her, like I had been through the entire game. Apparently, Stars players told Stripes players, who then told both women's teams, and of course, word of mine and Josh’s kiss made it through to the press side, and there was nothing my colleagues loved more than juicy gossip.

This was all coming from my so-called friend who was basking in my embarrassment with unrestrained joy.

It wasn’t like I was ashamed or regretted the kiss. I wouldn’t take it back even if I could, but I wasn’t thrilled it was now common knowledge in our little bubble. At least no one had made it public. My peers had at least enough respect not to blast me.

Oh no, they brought the shame directly to my face.

Joe was the only one I worried about, but he hadn’t been welcomed and included in our press group of friends, so maybe no one told him.

Even if they did, he probably didn’t remember the name of the person he stepped directly on to get to where he was.

Speaking of, he was standing next to the West bench, hardly paying attention to the game.

I glared at him, hoping deep down his subconscious sensed my dislike.

A hand waved next to him, and I realized Miles caught me staring and was distracting me before anyone else could.

I gave a small wave back. I hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to him in the last few days, and he didn’t exactly look happy with his reassignment either.

“No, there are not,” I finally broke my silence.

“There are.” Her phone appeared in my vision, and I flinched away. That was, in fact, a picture, although fairly blurry, of me and Josh. Our heads were close, but we weren’t kissing, at that time. Likely just before or after.

“Put that away.”

“I’ll send it to you.” She bumped her shoulder against mine, and a moment later, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

“I can send it to him too.” She pointed across the ice to the section I'd been doing my best to ignore.

Both men’s teams had shown up to show their support of the women. The fifty or so players were a cheering, shouting, dancing, chanting mass of red, white, and blue.

I loved it.

Not only were they supporting their teammates, but they were showing the public that they cared about women. That their games were just as intense and entertaining. That they were worth watching.