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“She was. He plays in the UK.” Georgie rubbed her forehead, but her weary expression remained. “They’ve been long distance for six months. Being apart has been really tough.” She shook her head. “Stef’s stronger than I am. I sure couldn’t do it.”

Randall glanced around the bar. “Where’s Stef now?”

“Will’s driving her home,” said Georgie. “They just left.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Oliver offered a silent thank you to the universe. If Will was gone, he could finally relax.

“I feel awful for her.” Georgie picked up her Coke. “And if having your boyfriend break up with you wasn’t horrible enough, some drunk jerk outside the washrooms said to us, ‘You puck bunnies are only here for one thing.’” She curled her lip. “I could’ve punched him!”

“You should’ve,” said Kaitlin.

Oliver’s narrowed gaze strayed, searching the bar, although he had no idea what the guy looked like.

“I said, ‘I’m actually here for wings and dancing, but go fuck yourself, asshole, ’cause no one else will.’” Georgie guzzled her pop through its straw. “It’s like we can’t win, you know? We hang out in a sports bar and go to games, so of course that means we have ulterior motives.” Tucking her chin, she stifled a small burp. “Fuck that noise! It’s demeaning and disrespectful. Couldn’t be further from the truth!”

Picking up his beer, Oliver nodded. His mother hadn’t been looking for a large payday or a brag-worthy hookup when she met Will McNally. She was looking for love.

“We have every right to be here just like they do.” Georgie stabbed the melting ice in the bottom of her glass with her straw and glared. “And for the record, I fucking HATE the term ‘puck bunny’!”

Oliver fought back a grin. Ma would’ve absolutely adored you.

TWELVE

OLIVER

Sunday, October 18, 1992

Strolling along rain-slicked Carlton Street just gone one a.m., Oliver and Georgie chatted while her friends drunkenly laughed up ahead, taunting Randall as he stopped at a hot dog cart for an early morning snack.

“I like your friends,” said Oliver, walking curbside.

“Yeah, they’re great. I lucked out.” Georgie glanced sidelong. “I’m sorry about Michael and all his questions. Sometimes he’s too nosey for his own good.”

“Ah, it’s okay.” Oliver peered ahead. Michael was giving a giggling Kaitlin a piggyback. “Although, I did wonder why he was so fixated on my boss. Does he know her?”

“No…” She bowed her head and skimmed her fingers down the long strap of her purse. “But he thinks I should ask her for a reference. You know, provided things go well.”

“He’s right. You should.”

Georgie cleared her throat. “Oliver, look, I should apologize for swearing like a sailor tonight.” She winced. “I’m not usually like that.”

“Like what? Eager to stand up for your friends? To call out fucking bullshit?”

She did a double take, a ghost of a smile rising as they walked under the dimmed marquee of the Gardens.

“You haven’t seen me curse much, but I can turn the air blue.” Oliver glanced over, happy to see her expression had relaxed. “And is it just me or does it feel good to swear sometimes? Like it’s a release of some sort, letting all those shits and fucks fly.”

Georgie laughed. “It is!” She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth then let it go. “So since we’re going there, full disclosure: I’m a bit of a potty mouth.”

“Good. We can be foulmouthed together.” Plunging his hands into the pockets of his coat, Oliver caught Michael and Kaitlin’s failed attempts to flag down a pair of taxis. “On a serious note, though, I think what you said tonight was bang on. I hate that you have to defend yourselves like that.” His protective instincts kicked in as he admired the freckles on her nose. I wish I could’ve given that asshole a piece of my mind. “Does it happen often?”

“Too often for my liking.” Her gaze washed over the arena’s gold bricks. “Most of the time it’s fine. I’ve grown up here. The old timers know me and my story. They know a real fan when they meet one.” She looked at Oliver. “But it’s the newcomers, the people who come to one game or the guys on a night out at the bar who see me and my girlfriends and take issue with us being in what they feel is their sacred space. They assume we know nothing about hockey and are only there to bag a player. On the odd occasion, they’ll ask us to rattle off a list of Leaf captains, hoping to expose our cluelessness.” She chuckled. “You should see their faces when we school them.”

“They’d never dream of asking a man that,” said Oliver.

“Nope!” Georgie glanced into the darkened lobby as they passed. “And they sure don’t like it when a woman knows more than they do.”

But that was where Oliver was different. He found Georgie’s fervour and wealth of knowledge fascinating.