Page 98 of Daring the Hockey Player

"Nah, I gave her my black AMEX," Kyler says.

"You didn't just buy the tickets outright?"

"I'm not a controlling douche." He shoots me a look. "I let her pick out the seats that she wanted."

"She's not going to spend the money to get close-up seats," I say. While I don't know Emerson as well as he does, if she's anything like her sister, she'll be in the nosebleeds because she won't want to spend his money.

"We'll see," Kyler says and lets the word trail off as we're introduced and make our entrance, skating onto the ice.

Immediately, we're booed and shouted at for being the rival team at the stadium. It doesn't bother me. I'm used to it and tend to drown out the sounds as I get my head into the game.

There's a sea of blue amongst the crowd. Their jerseys and shirts are like the ocean, with speckles of gold like the crest of a wave that are the handful of fans supporting us. There are more fans at the stadium in New York than when we were in North Carolina, but the seats closest to the ice are all drenched in blue.

No sign of Amber or Emerson. At least not from what I can see. But if Kyler says she's at the game tonight, I'll keep my eyes open for her.

The lights flash, and music blares while we skate on the ice before returning to the player's bench, getting ready for the first period.

"Your fiancée is a no-show," I say. "Or I'm right, and she's stuck in the nosebleeds."

Kyler mutters under his breath, but the roar of the crowd makes it difficult to hear him.

The first period is tough. The team doesn't seem to have their head in the game. Me included. Knox has been talking shit on the ice. Not that it's anything new with him, but I'm not in the mood to listen to his bullshit.

We aren't playing as well as we should be playing, and we have no excuse for it.

Distracted, maybe.

But that's not a valid reason for sucking. And that's what we're doing—tossing the puck, handing it to the enemy, and letting them score.

And the bastards are gloating and bragging about how they're the fucking kings of the ice.

At least our goalie, Aiden, has his shit together tonight, or the score would be triple what it is, and we're losing by four. It's not pretty, and we haven't made a single goal.

Kyler, Owen, and I are pulled off the forward line.

"What the fuck?" Coach Malone throws his arms up in the air, waiting for an explanation from us.

We don't have an answer, but Coach has his eyes on Kyler.

"Do you have something you want to say to me?" Kyler grits between clenched teeth.

"You tell me?" Malone's eyes tighten, and I swear I can see the steam coming off him. There's pissed, and then there's getting on Coach's bad side, which is not a place that you ever want to be.

Kyler rolls his lips together and wordlessly shakes his head.

It doesn't take a genius to read the body language between them. Tense is an understatement.

I nudge Kyler. "We'll get our shit together."

Kyler glances in the stands, ignoring me.

"What is it?" I ask and follow his gaze. The girls aren't in the worst possible section, but my stomach flops when I see Atlas Storm sitting beside Amber, and all I want to do is jump the glass and beat the crap out of him.

Do they know each other?

How?

Maybe it's just a coincidence, her sitting beside him in the stands, but I doubt it.