Page 22

Chapter twenty-one

Nate

T he arena lights blaze overhead, bright enough to rival the sun, and the roar of the home crowd is already electric. This is our turf. Game night. And I'm locked in.

Almost.

I catch her right before warmups.

Mandy and Kira are sliding into their seats three rows up behind the bench. Kira's waving like she's on a parade float. Mandy's bundled in one of my jerseys, her hair down and tousled from the wind outside, and when our eyes lock, she blows me a kiss.

I grin.

James elbows me on the way by. "That for you, lover boy?"

"Nah," I deadpan. "She was aiming for Parker."

"Right. Because Parker's abs have their own fan club."

I shake my head, skating off toward center ice. I'm not letting James get in my head. Not tonight.

Coach gives us the usual pregame speech. Stay sharp. First shift sets the tone. Play our game.

I feel solid tonight.

The first period starts fast. We're skating hard, throwing clean hits, and setting the tempo. I get a good early shift, and clear the puck with a long pass off the boards that springs Connor into the offensive zone. He doesn’t score, but he draws a tripping penalty, and that sets us up for our first power play.

We don’t convert, but it swings the momentum our way.

Back on the bench, the boys are fired up. James keeps chirping the other team’s winger, some rookie who tried to throw a hit and bounced off Parker like a beach ball. Ethan snorts into his water bottle, and even Coach cracks a rare grin.

We close out the first period up by one thanks to a rebound goal from Tanner. The arena’s alive, and I swear it’s the kind of energy that gets in your bloodstream.

Between periods, the locker room smells like sweat and adrenaline, and nobody’s saying it out loud, but we want this win bad.

Midway through the second, I block a shot on the penalty kill, spin the puck up to Ethan, and he takes it coast to coast for a shorthanded goal. The bench erupts. He taps his stick against my shin as we pass. Connor slaps my helmet.

"That was sick," he grins.

I glance at the glass.

Mandy’s up on her feet, clapping and whistling like she’s front row at a rock concert.

Fuck, I love that look on her face.

In the locker room during second intermission, the mood is high. We’re up 2-0, the guys are loose, but focused.

I grab my water bottle and check my phone. Just a glance.

One like.

From Mandy.

On an old Instagram post. A photo from my rookie season. I haven’t seen that picture in forever. I must've looked like a literal child.

She commented too:

"Still my favorite #23."

A slow smile creeps across my face.

Ethan walks by and peers over my shoulder. "Bro. Are you stalking your own Instagram?"

"Nah. Just catching up on fan engagement."

James leans in from across the aisle. "Is that your girl scrolling like she’s decoding your playbook?"

I pocket my phone. "She’s just...curious."

James whistles. "Smitten Jones. Damn. Never thought I’d see the day."

"Play your period, Henderson."

But I’m still grinning.

Back on the ice, the third period starts with a bang. The other team comes out aggressive, pressing hard to break our lead. I block a slapshot with my shin pad and grunt through the sting. Connor clears the zone, and James lays down a perfect check that gets the crowd on their feet.

"Nice hit, Hendo!" I shout, skating past.

He smirks. "Had to remind him this isn’t a Sunday skate."

We dig in. Shift after shift, it’s grind time. The boys are talking nonstop: switch, cover high, push left. I lay out to intercept a cross-ice pass and hear Coach yell behind me, "Atta boy, Jones!"

The clock ticks down under five. We win a faceoff in the D-zone, and I chip it up the boards to Parker, who eats twenty seconds just ragging the puck. Ethan dumps it in with a smirk and teases the goalie as he skates off.

When the horn finally sounds, the scoreboard’s 3-0. Shutout.

Solid win. Hard-earned. And it feels damn good.

Except the night’s not over yet.

It’s one of those post-game extras. Season ticket holder appreciation night. Half the guys duck out, but a handful of us head to the event space upstairs where fans line up for autographs and pictures.

Mandy and Kira are waiting by the entrance when I arrive, fresh out of a post-game shower, yet still sweating from the adrenaline rush.

Mandy leans in with a smile. "Congrats, stud."

"That block in the second?" Kira says. "Hot."

"Tell that to my bruised shin."

We pose for a couple of quick selfies before I get pulled to the welcome table.

The night rolls on. Sign a jersey here. Snap a pic there. It’s all good.

Until I glance over and see Mandy chatting with a blonde woman in a glittery jacket. Season ticket holders always bring some flair, but there’s something off about the vibe.

When I wrap up, I make my way over. Mandy's smile is polite, but a little too tight.

"Everything okay?" I murmur into her ear.

She nods quickly. "Yeah. Just someone who recognized me from that poker night picture."

My brows lift. "From where?"

"Instagram. Said she follows a few of the 'wives and girlfriends' accounts. Thought I looked familiar."

I pause.

Mandy shrugs, trying to shake it off. "She asked if I was your new flavor of the month."

My entire body goes still.

Kira, standing behind her, mutters, "I was about two seconds from spilling champagne on her shoes."

Mandy exhales, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. "She didn’t stop there. Said she follows all the team accounts and keeps tabs on who’s dating whom, like it’s her full-time job. Told me she was 'just surprised' to see me, because I didn’t seem like Nate’s type."

Kira's eyes narrow. "I was like...what the hell does that even mean?"

"Exactly." Mandy folds her arms. "She said something about how your last girlfriend was always posting gym selfies and brand collabs and tagging him in everything. Said I must be new to the scene."

Kira scoffs, then tilts her head. "So I smiled and said, 'Yeah, she’s new all right, new to putting up with shallow commentary and fake designer bags.'" She gives Nate a pointed look. "Then I asked her if she needed help finding the exit or just preferred to slither away quietly."

I high-five Kira.

She grins, still fired up. "That woman had so much filler in her face, I thought she was going to pop if she smiled too wide. Probably spent as much time contouring her cheekbones as she did learning the players names and dating histories."

"Oof, that's rough. I feel a cat fight coming," I joke.

Kira crosses her arms and continues. "You know the type...sparkle filter selfies, 'boss babe' in her bio, and thinks dating a hockey player is a career strategy. Probably trying to sleep her way into a sponsored bridal post."

I snort. Mandy tries to hold back a laugh but fails.

"It just threw me off." Mandy’s voice softens. "I know it shouldn't matter what some random chick says, but it felt like I was being measured against this invisible checklist I didn’t know existed. Like I’m already behind and I haven’t even figured out if I belong in this world."

"Mandy."

She waves it off. "It's fine. I just... wasn’t expecting it."

I grab her hand. Tight.

"By the way, you’re not a flavor," I say, low and serious. "You’re the fucking main course."

She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Something's shifting. I can feel it.

And I don’t like where it’s going.