Page 59

But… she could’ve just wanted me to come along as a friend and teammate. Maybe no one else on the team could go. Maybe her sister was busy that weekend. It didn’t… It didn’thaveto mean Sabrina was into me, and I really, really didn’t want to make an ass of myself by assuming.

I did want to go, though, and we’d just have to see how things went between us.

“Sure, I’d love to go!” I smiled. “I’ve never been to the All-Stars. I mean, I went to our exhibition games at the men’s All-Stars, but I’ve never been to ours, you know?”

“Neither have I. So, you’re in?”

“Definitely!”

The way her face lit up should not have screwed with my pulse like that. But it absolutely did.

And so did the invitation to be her plus one for the All-Stars.

Holy fuck. Maybe Faithwasright after all.

Chapter 20

Sabrina

I’d been to the men’s league All-Stars plenty of times over the years. Early on, it was to cheer for my father. Later, my brother and—one season, by the absolute skin of his teeth—my ex-husband.

This was the first year I would be playing in the tournament myself. It was only the fifth year our league had even had our own All-Stars; it had taken a few years for us to graduate from having an exhibition game at the men’s All-Stars to having an All-Star tournament of our own. It made sense now that the women’s league was rolling on its own momentum. We had a huge and growing fanbase. We were selling enough tickets to actually get respectable salaries instead of—as was the case in the first couple of seasons—needing second jobs to make ends meet. We didn’tneedthe endorsement of the men’s league in order to be perceived as legitimate.

The men’s league did still endorse us, though, and they always sent a few players for some of the fun stuff during the skills competition, as commentators, and even just to sign autographs. The fans loved it, and honestly, so did the maleplayers. If there was one thing all fans of this sport could usually agree upon, it was “more hockey = good.”

So I wasn’t at all surprised to see an enormous crowd outside the arena this afternoon. Players were arriving for the skills competition, and fans were packed in along either side of the long red carpet leading up to the players’ entrance. Lila and I got out of the car, and immediately we had both fans and journalists calling our names. Reporters held out microphones and pointed cameras at our faces. Fans waved phones, pucks, and photos at us.

“Did major junior you ever think this would be us?” Lila asked quietly as we gravitated toward the fans.

“I hoped.” I flashed her a quick smile, which she returned. “Now here we are.”

“About damn time,” she said just loud enough for me to hear.

“Agreed.”

Then we were right against the edge of the red carpet, signing pucks, photos, jerseys, and anything else people wanted. We posed for selfies—some together, some on our own—and steadily made our way down the line. Of course we did the obligatory posing for the reporters, but as much as we could, we stuck to the fans. They were the reason we were here, after all.

And what could I say? There was something amazing—something downrightaddictive—about all these young girls with wide, starstruck eyes telling us they played hockey too and they hoped they’d be here someday.

“How long have you been playing?” I asked a petite blonde girl as I signed a puck for her.

“Since I was four,” she said, grinning broadly. “I want to play like you!”

I smiled back. “Keep working at it! You’ll get there!”

The hope in her eyes melted my heart. But then she glanced over her shoulder, and her smile faltered just a little. “My dad says I might be too small.”

Behind her, a man who might’ve been in his thirties met me with a sheepish shrug.

I frowned. “How tall are you?”

“She’s about four-foot-three,” her dad said.

“And how old?”

“Eleven,” the girl said.

I smiled and shook my head. “Do you know who Joanna Lawson is?”