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His lips pull up in a half-smile. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it took me so long to see how amazing you are.”
He shoots me his infamous cocky grin, the one with the dimples. “It really did take way too long.”
I laugh, leaning in so my forehead presses against his. “Forever sounds pretty good.”
* * *
Friday night I pick Gram up for the game. When I told her about my failure of a date with Dexter—and then my kiss with Colby—she insisted on being my bodyguard to every home game from this point forward. Gram even claimed she’d, “take a ho down if they try to shank me for taking Colby Knight off the market.”
We meet the girls at a special entrance where employees and families can come in without being bombarded. The buzz around us is overwhelming. Tonight feels vastly different from the last game I came to. Now, I’m Colby Knight’s… what, girlfriend? Girlfriend sounds like a childish term, but I suppose that’s what I am. Will people be rooting for me and Colby? Or ripping us apart? I take a deep breath and remind myself that the opinions of strangers aren’t worth considering. The people who truly know me are the only ones that matter. And they’re right here.
I tried to dress more festive tonight, with a red sweater dress and navy-blue scarf that has pretty white birds on it. They’re not eagles, but oh well. I don’t have any gear that has Colby’s name or jersey number on it, but at least I’m dressed in the team colors.
Mel and Andie walk us through the arena, already knowing the place inside and out. “I love the red dress! Colby will too,” Andie says, raising her eyebrows up and down.
Mel makes an excited squeaky sound. “Maybe he’ll blow you another kiss tonight!”
Gram giggles at the idea, linking her arm through mine. “Oh, I’d love to see that live!”
We walk through a large door and into the bustling hallways of the arena. Mel waves an arm for us to follow her, then leads us straight through the crowd to our seats. We’re in the corner near the Eagles’ starting zone, about ten rows up. I’m relieved to be slightly further up from the ice this time, I have a better view from up here.
As expected, there are fans holding signs. Some of them are kids with cute handmade posters. And others are women. I ignore the ones pining for Colby and instead giggle with the girls about one for Bruce that says, you can guard my net anytime, Brucey!
Gram chuckles. “If only I was about fifty years younger, I might be a puck bunny too.”
Andie snorts a laugh. “Girl, if wanting a man who’s in pique physical condition, who makes good money, has a great dental plan, and gets you free tickets to things makes you a puck bunny… then I’ll happily be one.”
“That’s a great point, actually,” I agree.
Soon the guys are announced, the anthem is sung, and the puck is dropped.
The first five minutes of the game passes without much happening, I wonder if the guys are feeling the pressure after three wins in a row.
“I thought you said there would be fighting?” Gram whispers in my ear.
I swivel my head to stare at her. “You’re trouble.”
She snickers and the crowd starts chanting, shoot the puck, shoot the puck!
My eyes move to the ice in time to see Remy breaking away from the other players, impossibly fast. The crowd is going wild, waiting for him to shoot the puck, and hoping we take an early lead. Remy gets closer to the other team’s goalie, going to his left, the goalie moves to the left of the goal, but Remy quickly switches to the right. He shoots the puck high, breezing right past the right side of the goalie’s head.
Everyone jumps up from their seats, cheering for Remy. Remy skates one full circle around, making sure to high five all of his teammates on the bench. His celebration is quiet and humble, Remy isn’t a show-off. I smile to myself, thinking how different this would be if Colby was the one who scored. I wonder what Colby does after scoring. I know last time he blew me a kiss… but what does he usually do? Maybe he pretends to ride his hockey stick like a horse or something that really shows off for the crowd. He’s not that way when it’s just the two of us, but he takes his job entertaining fans quite seriously.
The game continues, Mitch gets a penalty for tripping, which Andie insists is a bad call. And the other team scores a goal during their power play.
The game is tied up 1-1 as the second period begins. The guys come out of the gate fast and intense, like they just got a serious pep talk from their coach. West captures the puck from the other team’s captain and takes it into the offensive zone, he skates it behind the net, waiting for someone to pass it to. Remy skates in and swiftly catches the puck from West. Colby has put himself in the perfect position near the net, and Remy waits for the right moment to shoot it. When he does, Colby catches the puck with his stick and shoots it right between the goalie’s legs. We’re all up screaming for Colby and hugging each other in our excitement. I look back at the ice to see what Colby does to celebrate, and wonder if he has some signature dance or something. I’m surprised when he finishes giving high fives to his teammates and comes right over to the glass in front of our section. He removes his mouth guard and gives me that gorgeous grin, then he blows me a kiss and winks.
The crowd goes crazy, even more than they did when he scored the goal. Once again, I find myself up on the giant jumbotron. Being the focus of attention like this isn’t something I’m super comfortable with, but gazing at Colby makes me forget the people surrounding us. I blow him a kiss back and he makes a show of catching it in his gloved hand and pressing it to his mouth.
Colby skates back toward the bench to switch out for his break and the game continues. I’m sitting happily in my seat, enjoying time with the girls and Gram—who’s enraptured by the game, or maybe the players—when an Eagles player snags my attention. More specifically, the name on the back of a jersey. Evander.
I’m not sure how I’m just now noticing, but my stomach sinks. There’s no way. Surely, that’s a common last name. I’m so stunned that Gram tugs on my sleeve. “Sweetheart, is everything okay?”
I force a smile and nod, but my eyes don’t leave the player. For the rest of the second period, I’m rigid in my seat. My back starts to hurt from holding my body straight and tense. When the end of the period finally comes, I’m still zoned in on the player with the Evander jersey. Waiting for him to remove his helmet is excruciating. I only hope that when he finally removes it, it won’t be who I think it is and I can finally relax.
But my luck has, apparently, run out. Because as he’s walking into the tunnel toward the locker room, he does take his helmet off. And even though it’s been years, I recognize him instantly. Travis Evander. My college boyfriend who cheated on me. The memories of seeing that video of him with those girls comes flooding back to me, making my skin feel like ice… cold and clammy. I don’t care for this man anymore, but the memories of being betrayed by someone who said he loved me, are still strong in my mind.
