Page 70 of Pucking Forbidden

I blink.

What?

Before I can respond, another message comes through.

Unknown: Trust me.

I glance around, confused. Who could this be? How do they know I’m here? Even if this is definitely how a true crime podcast might start, curiosity gets the better of me. I touch Grace’s arm, getting her attention.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell her.

She furrows her brow in concern. “Where are you going?”

“Uh…the bathroom.” Pretty sure she’d refuse to let me go if she knew I was meeting a mysterious stranger who somehow knows my number.

Grace pulls up her phone, her thumb flying across the screen for a quick second before she looks back up at me with a grin and a nod. “Okay, I just texted you your digital ticket and our exact section and seat numbers so you don't get turned around. Don’t get lost in the crowd!”

“I won’t,” I promise, giving her a reassuring smile.

My phone chimes with the incoming text from Grace, and I quickly pocket it. Turning away from the bright, open bowl of the arena, I take a deep breath and push my way back against the flow of the crowd, heading down the concrete corridor toward the underbelly of the stadium.

I follow the signs toward section 104. The hallway is quieter here, tucked out of the way from the main flow of people.

Oh, shit. Am I going to be on Dateline after all?

“Hadley.”

Startled, I turn.

Theo steps out from a side door, grinning. He’s already in his full game gear minus the helmet, looking twice as broad and imposing as usual under the heavy shoulder pads and the team's dark blue away jersey. He carries the casual, high-energy confidence of someone who is in his element before a big game. He balances his hockey stick easily in one hand. The heavy tape on the blade rests against the concrete floor.

Relief rushes through me, but also confusion. “Theo? What are you…?”

“I overheard Grace back at the stadium in Denver making plans for you guys to come tonight, and I thought I’d get you a little something.”

He pulls something out from behind his back and holds it out to me. When I see what it is, my breath catches.

It’s a brand new blue jersey with gold stripes around the sleeves and across the middle, and Julian’s last name and number across the back: WILDER 18.

My jaw drops as I reach out and take it from him.

“Theo…”

“Figured you might want that,” he chuckles, giving me a wink.

I look up at him with a baffled smile. “How did you even manage to get this? And why did you get it for me?”

“How? Please, I have my ways. Let’s just say I know a guy who knows the guy in charge of the equipment room, and a few favors were traded.” He gives me a wink. “I figured all the other girls would be wearing their men's jerseys. Thought you should have one too.”

Heat creeps up the back of my neck.

“I…I don’t know if I should,” I murmur, even as I clutch the jersey tighter. “People might assume…”

“You absolutely should,” he insists. “Trust me.”

I hesitate a moment more before I give in with a nod. Honestly, the thought of wearing Julian’s jersey feels so right. I don’t want to deny myself in this instance.

“Okay,” I murmur. “Thank you.”