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But it’s playful, and Bailey rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You know I like watching the game from actual seats. Though I do like the free food and drinks. Speaking of which … want something?” she asks me.

I glance over, where Liam balances two hot dogs and some cookies on a plate while swigging a giant plastic cup of soda.

“Maybe in a minute. Thanks.”

I realize as soon as she leaves that I should have gone with her because I’m now feeling like the new girl on the first day of school. Not sure if I’m wearing the right clothes. I hate giving into that kind of insecurity, so I remind myself that everyone has been great to me and shove down the stupid feelings.

“Let’s,” Summer says, nodding to a seating area that just opened up.

I end up on a couch between Gracie and Amelia with Summer taking a chair next to us. We can still hear the buzz of the arena from the open balcony and the televisions play quietly, but overall, the noise is a bit muted, which is a relief. The couch is definitely preferable to the seats downstairs.

“You look ready to be convinced you should stay up here with us in the fancy seats,” Summer says.

“And the free food,” Bailey says, sitting down with a plate that’s mostly sugary things.

“And away from all the fans.” Amelia gives a dramatic little shiver.

“Do fans give any of you a hard time?” I ask.

I’m sure the women are publicly linked with the guys through photographs or articles, but I’d be surprised if they would be recognizable in a crowd.

Or maybe I’m just not in the hockey bubble to understand how obsessive the fans get.

“Not me,” Gracie says. “I just prefer a little space from the chaos down there. I get less nervous for Felix up here. I’m not sure why.”

“My dad’s the coach,” Amelia says, taking a sip of her white wine. “Every so often I get recognized and people want to talk to me or tell me what my dad is doing right. Or wrong.” She smirks. “And if anyone happens to know who my husband is, I might get an earful. Especially from the other team’s fans for whatever Van might have said or done on the ice. He’s always the most hated player by other teams.”

She says it proudly, which surprises me. I don’t think I’d handle that kind of negative attention well. I might end up fighting someone if they made a comment about Camden.

“Don’t worry,” Bailey says. “We mostly go unnoticed and unrecognized. If you don’t want attention, you can absolutely avoid it.”

Amelia laughs, but it’s not unkind. “I think we’re still traumatizing her. Do we need a subject change? Because I have to assume you’re the reason Camden is finally playing well tonight. We’ll really be in trouble with my dadandthe guys if we scare you off.”

“I’m fine,” I tell her. “Honestly, it’s probably good to know this kind of thing before …”

I trail off, not wanting to saybefore I get fully invested.

I’m already invested in Camden—even after he left and I didn’twantto care about him—I did. But now, until there’s some kind of official title on the table, I’m saving an escape hatch for myself.

Just in case.

In case I don’t love this hockey life or this version of Camden. Though so far, in this admittedly small sample size of experience, I’m loving it.

Or even in case I don’t turn out to be the kind of person who can handle a long-term committed relationship. I have no idea what will happen if my restlessness starts to buzz again and Camden becomes the collateral damage with my need for change.

Or in case this relationship seems like a bad choice for Liam for any reason at all.

My eyes find my son across the room, parked in a chair in front of a flat screen, watching replays as he shovels cookies into his mouth. He’s been on whatever cloud is above Cloud 9 since he got to read the lineup. This might just be the best night of his life. I’m happy for that, and I’m happy he’s glued to the screens.

I don’t really want him to be involved in this conversation. For all his hockey knowledge, what it’s like to be in a relationship with a player isn’t something he has stats on. Or that I want him thinking about.

“Actually, can I ask some nosy questions about being with a guy who doesthisfor a living?” I jerk my thumb toward the screen Liam’s watching, where a goal is being replayed in slow motion.

“Nosy questions are my favorite kind,” says Amelia with the kind of sly grin that makes me feel certain she’s the perfect counterpart for Van and his smart mouth.

“Happy to answer what I can,” Summer says. “I’m a pretty open book.”

“I like the way you worded that,” Gracie tells me. “Because a good starting point is to remember hockey is theirjob. Identity gets tied up in there too, but ultimately, it is their career. A different one than, say, an office job, but still. It is but it isn’t who theyare.”