Page 36

CHAPTER 36

EMILY

T his was a terrible idea.

As if braving the throng of overzealous Thunder fans crowding the sidewalk outside Madison Square Garden wasn’t bad enough, now, as I sit in my designated seat next to Fran, with nothing but some flimsy plastic divider separating my face from flying pucks and hulking hockey players, Robbie skates by during the team’s warm ups and blows a kiss in his girlfriend’s direction which results in Fran’s face—and mine—being broadcast over the damn Jumbotron for all to see. Fran flips Robbie the bird, causing him to throw his head back in laughter, which only draws more unwanted attention our way. So much for subtlety.

I try to play it cool with a casual smile like it’s no big deal, when really all I’m imagining is Andy watching on his TV at home, wondering what the hell I’m doing here.

“Stop worrying,” Fran says, nudging me. “This is supposed to be fun.”

I force a smile. “ So fun…”

She rolls her eyes, but then her gaze darts back out to the ice and her face lights up. Pressing her lips together, she composes herself, leaning in close to stage-whisper, “There’s your man. ”

Honestly, I feel him before Fran even points him out, looking up in time to see number eleven skate by, his big hockey stick in one hand, catching glove on the other. I can’t see his face too well through the cage that shields it, but I do catch the glint in his eyes, and I know he’s smirking at me in that way that makes my heart stammer in my chest. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning like a moron lest I’m aired on the Jumbotron again. But when he nods, his helmet dipping in our direction, I feel my cheeks heat, and I know I’m at risk of totally giving myself away. So what do I do? I dig my hand into Fran’s popcorn, grab a handful and shove it right into my face. Anything to hide the smug smile that threatens at the thought of Dallas Shaw, goaltender for the New York Thunder, being my man. Act cool, Emily; there are cameras everywhere.

With three minutes remaining in the third period, I’m acting anything but cool, but the score is 1-0, so at least I’m not the only one. The entire Madison Square Garden crowd is on their feet, Thunder fans screaming for the defense. Fran and I are clutching one another as Robbie climbs over the boards and skates onto the ice for his shift. I don’t know much about hockey, but Dallas is on the verge of a shutout, just like he promised earlier, and it feels as if my stomach is in my butthole.

Robbie immediately has a Halifax player up against the boards, eliciting an ear-splitting roar from the crowd.

“Kick his ass, baby!” Fran screams.

Logan manages to stick the puck free from the scrum, but it’s loose and the Halifax center secures it between his stick and skates and is off on a breakaway, tearing up the ice with Happy hot on his heels.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Fran clutches her hands beneath her chin, watching on while nervously bouncing on her heels.

My eyes spear Dallas, who stands front and center, protecting the net, knees bent, crouched down low, his eyes set firm on the puck as the opposing player approaches.

“Come on, baby,” I whisper, holding my breath. My gaze darts to the looming scoreboard. There’s still more than a minute to go, and what I’ve learned tonight is when the puck is in the offensive zone, a minute in ice hockey is practically the same as an eternity.

The Halifax player stops so suddenly in the middle of the circles, ice sprays up into the air, and then, so fast I almost miss it, he rears his stick back and shoots, the puck flying toward Dallas with such speed, I cover my eyes with my hands, peering through my fingers.

The puck hits the crossbar, rebounding into the crease, and the roar of the crowd is deafening as Dallas dives, smothering it before the referee blows his whistle to stop the play.

“Oh, my God, there’s still forty seconds,” Fran cries, frantically biting her nails.

The energy throughout the arena is electric as the teams get into line for the faceoff. I have my eyes trained on Dallas, watching as he gets into position, my heart hammering in my chest and, as soon as the puck drops, a mad scramble ensues before Halifax secures it. The play is sloppy at best, both teams desperate and obviously exhausted. Robbie puts the pressure on the opposing team’s left winger, who passes back to the center, and Logan comes out of nowhere, boarding the Halifax center, the puck slipping free again.

“Oh, my God!” Fran squeals, clutching my arm. “Happy’s on the breakaway!”

I assume that’s not normal for Happy, so I cheer along with everyone else in the arena, clapping and jumping up and down, shouting and screaming for Happy to go.

With eight seconds left on the clock, Happy powers through the defense, narrowly avoiding a hulking Halifax player, and slaps the puck toward the goal. Seconds before the final buzzer sounds to close out the game, the puck hits the back of net, and the roof on Madison Square Garden is almost blown clean off by the roar of the crowd.

Fran wraps me in a hug, still jumping up and down, and I watch on as all the Thunder players skate toward Happy, piling on top of him in celebration.

Dallas skates past the Halifax goalie, bumping gloves with his opponent in a show of sportsmanship before hurtling toward his teammates and throwing himself on top of the mountain of bodies, and I can’t wipe the grin from my face because I am so fucking in love with that man.

I follow Fran as she leads me through a checkpoint guarded by security, down a winding corridor and into a tunnel that’s bustling with people all standing outside what looks to be the locker room. Official looking men wait with excited kids dressed head to toe in fan gear, and clusters of people who look like family wait impatiently for the players to exit.

“Hey, ladies!” Fran beams, hurrying up to a small group of women dressed to the nines, one of whom I recognize as Hannah from the dinner at Fran and Robbie’s apartment.

“Hey!” Hannah greets me with a happy smile, rubbing a hand up and down my arm.

“Nice to see you again.” I squeeze her hand in return.

“Oh, hey, girl.” A beautiful brunette wraps her arms around Fran in greeting, pulling back to get a look at me. “Who do we have here?”

Fran turns, yanking me toward them. “This is Emily. Emily is—” She glances at me, hesitating briefly before flashing the women a smile. “Emily works at HMC with me.”

“Oh, hi!” The brunette hugs me unexpectedly. “I’m Cassidy, Alex’s wife.”

I smile awkwardly because I have no idea who Alex is .

“Hey, newbie, I’m Jackie.” A blonde woman smiles, shaking my hand. “Rusty’s wife.”

Fran laughs, pointing to both ladies and explaining, “Rusty is team captain, and Alex is alternate captain.”

“Oh,” I reply with a nod, smiling. “It’s good to meet you both.”

“Are you guys coming tonight?” Hannah asks, looking between Fran and me.

“Where?” I ask, confused.

“Rusty organized a VIP for the whole team at Starlight,” Jackie says with a smug smile.

“Oh, my God,” Fran gasps. “I heard that place has, like, a three-month waitlist for a VIP.”

“He pulled some strings.” The blonde touches her nose with a conspiratorial wink.

Fran turns to me, lowering her voice. “You’re coming, right?” She makes a hopeful face, and before I can respond she continues, “Please say yes!”

Starlight is an exclusive rooftop bar that sits forty-five stories high above Midtown. It’s a renowned hotspot frequented by celebrities and all sorts of high-profile people. If I tell Tess I’m going there, she’ll die. Not even she’s been to Starlight yet, and that’s saying something.

I glance down at myself, taking in my outfit. A pair of ankle boots, black tights, and an oversized denim shirt worn as a dress under my coat. When I left home, Tess assured me I looked casually cool and effortlessly chic; perfect for a hockey game. Now, however, I cast Fran a skeptical look. “I don’t think I’m quite dressed for Starlight .”

“Um, hello!” She guffaws, opening her coat for me to see the Thunder jersey she’s wearing over her jeans. “At least you don’t look like Adam Sandler.”

“You both look fine,” Jackie says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Besides, you’re with me .”

I almost laugh out loud, but when I realize she’s serious, I press my lips together and bite them between my teeth, spearing Fran with an is-she-serious look. Fran just nods, concealing her own smirk as best as she can and linking her arm through mine.

“Let’s go. The car’s waiting in the garage,” Cassidy says, waving us with them. “Alex just texted and said the guys’ll meet us there.”

As I walk back through the tunnels, following Jackie, I feel my phone vibrate from inside my purse resting at my hip and, pulling it out, when I see Dallas’s name on the screen, I can’t help but smile.

D: Seeing you in the stands tonight made me the happiest man in the whole goddamn world. Thank you, baby.

Oh, my heart.

Me: You’re welcome. Thank you for winning.

D: You’re my good luck charm.