Page 27

Chapter twenty-six

Mandy

I 'm mid-brain fog, halfway through rereading a con law chapter, when my phone buzzes with a group FaceTime from Haley, Grace, and Stacy.

"We have news," Haley grins like she’s about to tell me I just won the lottery.

"We’re road-tripping to Columbus for Game 7," Grace adds, her curls bouncing with excitement. "You’re coming. No arguments."

Stacy waves from the corner tile, her background showing some kind of chaotic kid scene. "I can’t make it, but you three are carrying the vibes. All the good karma. Plus, Nate will be useless if you’re not there."

I blink. "Seriously? You want me to come?"

Haley tilts her head like I just asked if the ice is cold. "Mandy. It’s the divisional Game 7. We need our guys dialed in. You showing up is basically a good luck charm. Also... your sister lives there, right?"

My stomach flips. "Yeah."

"Well, we happen to have two extra tickets. Thought it might be a nice peace offering."

I exhale, a smile tugging at my lips. "Okay, okay. Let me call her."

I hang up and dial Allison.

"Well, look who it is," she answers, playfully suspicious.

"Hey," I say softly. "I, um... I wanted to tell you I’ll be in Columbus tomorrow. The girls invited me to Game 7. And they have extra tickets for you and Ben. If you want them."

There’s a beat of silence. Then she exhales. "Yeah? You sure?"

"Yeah. And I wanted to say… I know we fought. But I love you. And I’m figuring this thing with Nate out. He means a lot to me."

Another pause. Then she says, "I was hard on you. But I just don’t want you to get hurt."

"I know," I whisper. "But I’m okay. And I want you there."

"Woohoo! Love you, Mandygirl."

"Love you too, Alli."

I hang up and stare at my phone for a second, heart fluttering.

Then I practically launch myself into motion.

I find my overnight bag. Thank god I did laundry and I start tossing in the essentials: comfy clothes, a decent outfit for the game/night out, my lucky hoodie, a sexy nighty, and way too many snacks.

I triple-check that my phone charger is in there, then add a backup just in case.

I wasn’t expecting this. I thought I’d be watching the game from my couch, alone or with Kira, yelling at the TV and refreshing Twitter every five seconds.

Now, I get to be there. With Grace and Haley.

With my sister. And best of all, surprise Nate.

The butterflies are real, and they’re throwing a party in my stomach.

I zip the bag and smile to myself. Game 7, here I come.

***

The knock comes at 7:45 AM. I open the door to Grace holding two coffees and Haley dramatically waving a hockey scarf.

"You'd better be ready, loser," Haley says with a grin. "We’re going to Columbus."

I laugh, already feeling lighter. Stacy pops up on FaceTime from her kitchen.

"Don’t forget your lucky bra," she teases.

"It’s Game 7, not a date! And who has a lucky bra?"

"I do." Stacy replies.

"I have lucky panties," says Haley.

"You're both crazy," Grace chuckles.

"With a smoke show defenseman like Nate, you're lucky your underwear didn't melt off the second he looked at you," she quips.

"Yeah, well, he is pretty hot, right?" I say. "All these guys are. It's like walking into a calendar shoot for 'Hockey Hunks Monthly.'"

They all burst into laughter.

"Save me a centerfold," Stacy snorts. "And tell Nate to behave himself—no scoring on or off the ice without your approval. Bye ladies. Have an awesome time and keep me in the loop."

"Bye," we say in unison.

The car’s barely out of the city limits before Grace hits play on her chaotic “Away Game Hype” playlist, which starts with a remix of Hollaback Girl and has Haley screaming, “YES. THIS IS MY JAM!” like we’ve just hit a dance floor instead of I-75.

“I feel like I should’ve stretched before this drive,” I joke from the backseat, wedged between two tote bags and a suspiciously large duffel labeled ‘Connor’s Emergency Game Snacks.’

“Stretch your core,” Grace shouts over the beat. “You’ll need it. We’ve got three hours of screaming, snacks, and absolutely no silence ahead.”

“I figured,” I grin, popping open a Diet Coke. “You two don’t seem like the audiobook type.”

“Excuse you,” Haley says, twisting around from the passenger seat. “I once tried to listen to a biography. Got five minutes in before Connor turned it off and made us listen to Eye of the Tiger on loop.”

“That’s his game day superstition, right?” Grace asks.

Haley groans. “Absolutely. He says it ‘activates the predator in his blood.’ Meanwhile, he brushes his teeth to Disney music. The duality of man.”

Grace cackles, tapping the steering wheel. “Parker sharpens Bessie’s pencils before home games. Says if her pencils are on point, his game will be too."

“I can’t tell if that’s adorable or terrifying,” I laugh.

“Both,” Grace and Haley say at the same time.

The miles roll by quickly with laughter layered over stories, each one more unhinged than the last. I find myself melting into the energy. These women have pulled me in without hesitation.

And I’m not sure I want to leave.

“Okay, Mandy,” Grace says, glancing at me in the rearview with a smirk. “Your turn.”

“For what?”

“Tell us what it’s really like dating Nate ‘Stone Wall’ Jones.”

“Oh yeah,” Haley grins wickedly. “We’ve seen the jawline. We’ve heard the chirps. But give us the behind-the-scenes.”

I blink. “Uh… intense yet surprisingly gentle.” I say, and immediately regret it when Haley lets out a gasp so dramatic she might need a fainting couch.

“Gentle?” she repeats, fanning herself with a gum wrapper. “Like… how gentle are we talking here? Baby lamb? Fluffy pancake? Connor holding a puppy?”

Grace’s laugh fills the car. “Okay, but now I need the scale. Because if we’re rating NHL players by emotional softness, Parker’s a nine out of ten, but only because Bessie exists. Is Nate up there?”

I sip my Diet Coke to buy time, stalling while my cheeks threaten to match the taillights ahead of us.

“He’s…” I start, then shrug. “He’s just different with me. Like, off the ice, he listens. He remembers things I said in passing three days ago. And he makes space for me, you know? Even when he doesn’t get it.”

There’s a pause. A soft one.

Then Haley murmurs, “Okay, that’s hot.”

Grace hums. “Really hot. Thoughtful Nate might be my new fantasy.”

“Please don’t fantasize about my boyfriend,” I deadpan, and they both burst out laughing.

“You sure?” Grace teases. “Just a little? I bet he’s the type to unhook your bra after asking how your day went.”

“He is,” I blurt, then slap a hand over my mouth as they shriek in tandem.

“MANDY,” Haley howls. “I KNEW IT. He’s one of those secretly soft alphas. Does he tie your shoes too? Tuck you in?”

“No,” I say, nose crinkling. “But he did make me oatmeal once and cut the bananas into perfect little coins.”

Grace mock-gasps. “Girl. That’s domestic foreplay. He’s already got you in the fake suburbs, wearing matching robes and arguing over throw pillow colors.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” I laugh, but I’m grinning so hard it hurts. Because… they’re not that far off.

Nate is intense. Focused. Sometimes too guarded for his own good. But with me? He’s that guy. The one who notices when my shoulders are tense or when I need silence instead of jokes. He’s never asked me to be anything other than myself.

And that’s what makes all this...the craziness, the late nights, the off-limits panic...worth it.

Haley reaches back and squeezes my knee. “We’re just giving you crap because we like you, you know.”

“I know,” I say softly.

Grace glances in the rearview again. “We also like to prepare our own. So if Allison ever gives you hell, just know we’ve got a group chat and a plan.”

“What plan?”

Haley grins. “Let’s just say if she pulls anything, we’ve got your back.”

Grace nods. “No glitter cannons. Just backup. Loud, loyal, and always on call.”

I laugh until my stomach hurts. Until I don’t feel nervous about Columbus or awkward about being “the little sister.”

Right now, I’m not just Mandy Fields, law associate and Nate's girlfriend.

I’m one of the puckwives .

And it feels damn good.

***

We arrive at Nationwide Arena just before puck drop and meet Allison and Ben at the main entrance.

"Mandy, Mandy!"

She wraps me in a tight hug while Ben offers a warm smile and short side hug. Grace and Haley introduce themselves, and within moments, everyone is chatting like old friends. I give her the tickets and she chuckles.

"Who would ever have imagined that we would be going to watch Nate Jones play hockey?"

"I know, right?" I laugh as we make our way through the gate.

Inside, the WAG (wives and girlfriends) section crackles with anticipation, the sound of cowbells and goal horns already ringing through the halls. Grace and Haley flank me as we walk down the row.

"You good?" Haley whispers.

"Terrified. Excited. Possibly both," I say, heart pounding.

Grace nudges me. "Well, you look hot. You'll make him sweat."

"Front row of the WAG section," Haley grins. "You better scream loud."

"You don’t have to worry about that," I laugh, heart pounding with anticipation.

To our right, Allison and Ben settle into their section. I wave back at them, heart swelling. It’s all really happening.

The lights dim. Music blasts. The Acers skate out to roaring applause, despite being the visiting team.

The game begins.

The first period is a rollercoaster. Columbus scores early on a power play, their fans exploding with noise. But the Acers answer back late in the period, Connor sneaking in a rebound off a point shot from Parker.

Nate racks up two gritty blocked shots and gets into a shoving match behind the net that earns some colorful gestures from Coach Stephens on the bench, mostly aimed at the refs.

There’s one near-fight after James chirps the goalie and gets whacked in the back of the leg. Tension is through the roof.

By the second period, the score is locked at 1–1. Every shift is a battle, every play tighter than the last. The whole arena is practically vibrating with tension.

Midway through the second, the Blue Jackets make a breakaway. It’s a heart-stopping moment until Nate lays out, clean and hard, disrupting the play and sending the puck back up the boards.

He turns toward the bench…and freezes.

His eyes lock on me.

For a heartbeat, time stops.

I lift my hand, giving him a small, shaky wave.

He nods, expression unreadable under his helmet. Then he turns, focused and fierce, and skates off with renewed energy, just as a fight breaks out near the boards, sending gloves flying and fans roaring. The refs struggle to separate the players, whistles shrieking as fists fly and helmets clatter.

Nate doesn’t flinch. He barrels into the next shift, knocking an opponent off balance and drawing a retaliatory slash.

The ref’s arm goes up—penalty and power play for the Acers.

The Acers set up quickly in the offensive zone, puck movement crisp and relentless.

Parker threads a pass to James, who dishes it to Connor on the wing.

Without hesitation, Connor rifles a wrist shot past the goalie’s glove.

Goal! The bench erupts, and the Acers take a 2–1 lead, capitalizing on the momentum.

As the players clear for intermission, the Acers head down the tunnel. Just before disappearing into the tunnel, Connor and Parker glance toward our section. Grace and Haley wave like maniacs. I do too, jumping up and down.

Connor smirks and nudges Parker. They both nod, clearly having spotted us.

"They see us!" Grace says, half-laughing, half-screaming.

"Oh my God, they totally see us!" Haley adds, waving both arms like she’s directing traffic.

My heart races. This is so exciting!

***

Middle of the third period. Tie game. The entire arena holds its breath.

Connor wins the faceoff. Nate corrals the puck and threads a perfect breakout pass up the ice, right onto James’s stick. James flies down the ice and roofs it, top shelf.

GOAL!

I’m cheering and dancing. Grace screams. Haley nearly falls over.

3–2.

With two minutes left, the Blue Jackets throw everything they’ve got at the net.

It’s like a war zone out there: bodies crashing, sticks slashing, the puck flying through a maze of players.

But Alex is an absolute brick wall in goal, blocking shots left and right, up and down.

A one-timer rockets in from the point and he flashes the glove.

A rebound skitters loose and he dives to smother it.

The crowd is on their feet, shouting, groaning, gasping.

"He’s a machine!" Grace yells, eyes wide.

"I swear he just teleported across the crease," Haley adds, hands on her head.

Nate’s out there battling for every inch. He checks a forward so hard he knocks the guy's stick out of his hands, then scoops up the puck and sends it sailing down the ice. It’s pure grit and precision, and as they clear the zone again, the clock is running.

The Acers hold the lead. The final seconds tick down—five, four, three. The buzzer blasts. We win!

We’re going to the damn finals!

The bench empties. Helmets fly. Nate’s on the ice, arms up, teammates mobbing him.

And then, he looks back at me.

His grin is wild and beautiful and full of everything: relief, joy, love.

I press a hand over my heart.

He sees me.

And I see him.

The celebration continues as we are dancing in our seats, watching the chaos with hearts full.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzes.

A text from Nate.

Wait for me.

I smile.

Already am.