Page 10

NINE

willa

I need to either get rid of the purple hair or get a less itchy wig. The hair has become part of my whole image, so it looks like the wig is getting an upgrade after this game.

“I look ridiculous,” I mutter as I shimmy sideways into the row and find my seat. The woman in the seat next to me laughs. She’s cute and looks about my age.

“Are you Willa? I’m Maggie Banks.” She points at one of the players. “That one is mine.” I look at who she’s pointing at.

“Your husband is Gideon Banks?” I ask, surprised. Dec said I would be sitting with one of the other wives, but I kind of assumed it would be one of the guys that don’t see a lot of ice time. Not the captain of the team. I thought she would be up in the WAGs box.

Maggie is around my height with curly brown hair in a bob around her chin. Her brown eyes are big and round on her small face, making her look sweet.

“He sure is. I have to wear the giant jersey too,” she laughs, gesturing to the Boston Bruisers jersey she’s wearing that matches mine. Declan insisted I couldn’t wear the type available in a store. I had to wear one he’s actually worn. It seems Maggie is in the same boat. Except hers is number 27 with Banks on the back, and I’m wearing Monroe with a 14.

“Possessive hockey players,” I say and shake my head.

“I know who you are,” she whispers, causing my whole body to stiffen. “Gideon saw you at the training center last week. Don’t worry. Your hubby swore him to secrecy.”

“That obviously didn’t work,” I say, but I’m laughing because she’s just so sweet.

“Gideon told me so that I could help you steer clear of any press. Your secret is safe with me.” She winks and then turns to watch the warm up.

Maggie asks a few more questions about the band and what’s going on with Ezra. She’s apparently a huge fan and is excited for the first episode of Harlow and Jo’s podcast, Melt the Ice , to drop. She even introduces me to the people around us. They’re all-season ticket holders that Maggie knows by name. I guess the seats we’re in belong to her parents, but they’re on a cruise. They have four tickets, and we’re only using two of them.

“You’re my security, aren’t you?” I ask the large and bored looking man sitting next to me.

“Yes, Mrs. Monroe,” he says, eyes scanning the area continuously.

“That one too?” I ask, pointing to the large man next to Maggie.

“Yes, Mrs. Monroe.”

I roll my eyes. “Sorry,” I say to Maggie. She just laughs and offers the guy on her side some of her popcorn.

“I can get you and Gideon tickets and backstage passes if you want. Declan is going to one of the New York shows because they’ll be there for a game. He’ll also be in Boston for the last show in March.” It seems like the least I can do for her since she let me sit with her and apparently bring security with me.

Maggie squeals so loud the guys hear her on the ice. Gideon turns and sees how excited she is and smiles. You can tell from the way he’s looking at her that he absolutely adores her. Declan, on the other hand, is looking very confused. I realize it’s probably my face. I tend to either scowl or show every emotion. Nothing neutral. And Maggie’s squeal was alarming.

I catch Declan’s eye and smile. He returns it, all the worry and confusion fading quickly, and he starts waving with a little too much excitement. I laugh at him.

“That man is obsessed with you. I can tell. I have an eye for these things,” Maggie says, bumping my shoulder with hers.

“He’s something alright,” I reply, not acknowledging her words.

We watch the rest of warm-ups in companionable silence. The sounds and smells of the arena are familiar. We’re in the front row so I can smell the cold of the ice and the rubber of the pucks. There’s always an underlying scent of sweat and fried food in ice rinks. I only made a few of Declan’s college games, but my dad was a huge hockey fan. So I went to a lot of the local college games growing up.

Before I know it, both teams are getting into position for the puck drop. “Who is that man and why is he waving at us?” I ask Maggie. She looks at the large, dark-eyed defensemen and laughs before waving back.

“That’s just Martinez. It’s easier just to wave and get it over with or he’ll keep doing it.”

I do as she says, and he immediately sets his stick down to wait for the play. Weird.

“He does it every game. Says waving to the other player’s wives gets them riled up, and they need the aggression to win.”

I laugh so hard I snort when I realize where I heard his name. “Cameron, right? Dec said he was his friend against his will. I thought he was joking.”

Maggie laughs along with me. “I’m not surprised.”

The sound of a whistle has my head turning back to the game. Declan skates in front of me with a frown. “You’re not watching,” he mouths.

“Sorry!” I yell and make a show of facing forward and paying attention.

“Men need so much attention,” Maggie jokes, but I notice her focus is on Gideon.

“I can’t make another game until right before Thanksgiving. So I better pay attention, or I won’t hear the end of it for weeks.”

Maggie and I watch the Bruisers dominate the first period. Dec is playing with his line like he has been with them for years and not two weeks. It’s really impressive. They’re only up by one, but they’ve kept the puck on Tampa’s side for most of it.

“I’m sorry you have to sit down here with me,” I say to Maggie while we wait for the next period to start.

“I always sit here. I like watching the game up close,” she says, waving off my apology.

“I’d like to sit with you at all the games, if that’s okay with you. I’m not sure my screaming would be appreciated up there,” I say, gesturing to the WAG box with my chin.

“I would love another wife to sit with!” She’s practically bouncing in her seat. Her joy is contagious and soon I’m smiling so hard it hurts. “Oh, they’re playing!”

I turn just in time to see a player from Tampa taking a cheap shot at Declan’s knees. I’m out of my seat and screaming while gesturing wildly at the dirty player. His knee injuries aren’t a secret. He’s been out for part of a season more than once to have surgery on one or both.

A ref turns to look at me since I’m making so much noise. “Don’t look at me! Pay attention to that dirty shithead!” I’m pointing at the asshole who tried to hurt Dec. “Do your fucking job, ref!”

Maggie is cackling next to me. “I like you, Willa. You can sit with me anytime.”

I take my seat, crossing my arms and scowling at the back of the Tampa player’s head. “I’m watching you 39!” I yell.

Gideon wins the face-off, passing it directly to Declan, who skates like his ass is on fire, easily maneuvering around Tampa’s defense. He lines up the shot and slaps it. I watch the puck fly from his stick directly into the top left corner of Tampa’s net. The lights flash and the horn sounds.

“Let’s fucking go, hockey boy!” I’m screaming and jumping. You’d think it was a game that mattered and not just preseason. Between the excitement that is hockey and watching Declan, I’m having a great time.

Declan raises his stick and points it right at me. “That one’s for you, Princess!” he shouts over the crowd. I smile and touch my heart. He returns the gesture before getting back in position. It’s something we started doing when I had to leave immediately after his games without being able to see him.

Boston is up by two going into the third period. Tampa is struggling to keep up. Their team is young, a lot of rookies where Boston is mostly veterans. Their inexperience is showing, but so is their frustration. Cheap hits and shitty calls make up the rest of the game. Declan has been thrown into the boards twice when the ref’s backs have been turned. Gideon took a nasty slash to the shoulder. The left wing on the second line, Mikhail Slava, left the game with a broken finger. But through all of it, Boston kept their composure and fought them off without resorting to their dirty games.

“The guys are going to be sore tonight,” Maggie says as we stand and make our way to the locker room. “I hope you have good massage oil at home. If not, I can send you the one I get.”

“I have to get on the tour bus and head to New Jersey right after I see Dec,” I say.

Maggie frowns. “It must be hard when you’re apart so much.”

“We’ve talked almost every night since my dad got me my first phone when I was thirteen. The distance sucks, but we’re used to it.” Maggie nods, but not in a way that makes me believe she understands.

“There they are,” she says. We took our time getting to the locker rooms. The game ended earlier than I planned for, so I didn’t need to rush. Our guys are already waiting for us in their game day suits. I don’t know who made the rule that hockey players need to wear suits on game day, but I could kiss them for it.

Speaking of kisses.

“Declan,” I shout when I see him. I turn to Maggie and quickly rip my wig off. “Can you hold this?” I toss it to her before she has time to respond. Shaking out my hair quickly, I run.

Declan’s smile lights up his whole face when he sees me coming for him. He crouches down slightly and opens his arms. I jump into them, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck like I’ve done a million times before. Except this time, I lean down and press my lips to his. I meant for it to be soft and quick, but he grabs the back of my neck and takes over. His lips move against mine, his tongue flicking the seam, asking for entrance, and I let him in. I get lost in the feel of his body against mine, the softness of his lips and the teasing of his tongue.

He pulls back and looks at me. He’s breathing just as heavily as I am. “Hey, Princess,” he whispers in a husky voice. I look into his eyes, pupils blown so wide the green is barely visible.

“That was some kiss, hockey boy.”

“I wanted my movie kiss,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose. Then he rears back, eyes widening in horror. “Willa, your hair is out.” He looks around him in a panic, like he’s looking for somewhere to hide me.

“Dec, it’s okay,” I try to tell him, but he’s already moving towards the exit. “Declan,” I say louder and try to wiggle out of his hold. “They got him, Dec.”

He freezes a foot from the door that leads directly into the players’ parking lot. “Got who?”

“Senator Wolfe. He’s been arrested for a ton of stuff, but Harrison, Harlow’s dad and the private investigator Kai hired, found evidence connecting him to Harlow’s kidnapping.”

“You’re safe?” The relief in Declan’s voice hits me right in the chest.

“I’m safe,” I say softly.

“Can I move out of my shitty apartment now?” he asks, breaking the tension. I laugh. His apartment costs more per month than most people make in a year, but I don’t think this is the time to point that out.

“Can we figure that out when we’re both here at the same time again?”

Declan stares at me. His eyes showing his disappointment.

“I know, but I’m on the road for the next seven weeks. And then the week I’m back, you’re away for three days.”

He sighs and lays his forehead against mine. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too, hockey boy.” He lets me down but takes my hand as he leads me into the parking lot.

“Did you enjoy the game?” he asks as he leads me to my car.

“Tampa is a bunch of dirty fuckers. You’re going to have to watch out for them during the season. If they play like that in the preseason, they’re going to be causing serious injuries when the games actually count.” Declan laughs so loud he gets the attention of his teammates who are making their way to their own cars. “Everyone is staring at us,” I say, looking around.

“Good,” he says and then leans in kissing me again. This one is different. It’s softer, less urgent. “Drive safe Mrs. Monroe. Call me when you can.” He opens my door and waits until I’m buckled and the engine is started before he shuts my door and blows me a kiss. I watch him walk to his own car, a little stunned.

We agreed to kiss for show. Which both kisses were, but they weren’t supposed to make me tingle.

Fucking hell.