Page 30 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

Chapter Ten

“I can’t believe this!” Ethan was literally bouncing on their way into the hockey arena. “I mean, getting you both here at the same time is pretty much a dream come true, but the fact we’re sitting in the team’s box. I’m more excited than Thor at a two-for-one sale on hammers.”

She and Allyson laughed, and while she didn’t admit it, Chelsea felt exactly the same way. And not just because she was a pretty big fan of hockey these days but because she would finally get to see Preston play in person.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that the entire arena was buzzing, fans of the sport happy to be there to cheer on the home team. She’d promised to buy her dad some sort of Stingrays souvenir from the gift shop, so she made a mental note to check it out before they left.

Preston had texted several times today to make sure she was still coming and to give her instructions on how to get to the box. Then he’d gone the extra mile and set them up with valet parking, yet another reason Ethan was practically coming apart at the seams.

As a true Stingrays fan, Ethan typically managed to attend at least one home game a month. He and Allyson had used the center-ice tickets a couple weeks earlier, but Chelsea had opted to stay home, foolishly thinking that might help her maintain a friendly yet platonic distance from Preston.

That idea had failed spectacularly. And she wasn’t mad about it.

It had been seventeen days since Preston walked back into her life.

Seventeen amazing, glorious, spectacular days since he’d walked into the bakery and effectively flipped her entire world on its head. Or maybe her world had been on its head prior to him, and his arrival had tipped her right-side up again.

Preston hadn’t lied about wanting to be a part of Lennon’s life.

The two of them had created a shared, color-coded spreadsheet on Google, where they each filled in their work schedules.

Preston’s schedule was highlighted in green, hers in yellow.

From there, they filled in the blanks with “family dates,” all marked in blue.

With the exception of two multiday road trips, Preston had found time, even if it was just a few minutes, to see Lennon on thirteen of those seventeen days.

And he never failed to FaceTime from the road to check in and get some screen time with his little man.

On days where they had lots of time to spend together, they typically hung out at Preston’s condo.

Whenever it was just the three of them, he took over practically all of their son’s care, feeding him, changing his diapers, singing silly songs to him, and holding him in front of the aquarium, so Lennon—who was now obsessed with fish—could watch them swim.

Even better, Preston took care of her , something no one had done since…

well…since she was a child. He fed her, watched her crappy reality shows with her, and even encouraged her on two occasions, after sleepless nights with Lennon, to take naps in the guest room.

She felt more well rested than she had since their baby was born.

She’d been too close to the end of her rope prior to his arrival in their life, her exhaustion and stress off the charts. Between her mother’s criticisms, Rick’s unexpected—and unwanted—kiss, and the lack of sleep, she’d been on the verge of a complete meltdown.

Preston showing up should have been the tipping point.

But it wasn’t.

That wasn’t saying she hadn’t initially been stressed out and worried about what his presence in Lennon’s life would mean, but those emotions had never really become full-blown.

Because of that magical something the man possessed that set her at ease…

even when he was the one freaking her out.

Preston calmed her down, quieted all the noise in her head.

She’d noticed that ability the first night they met, thinking perhaps she’d imagined it, or it had been a result of the wine, and then later, the super-hot sex.

For the past seventeen days, there had been very little wine and no sex, and the man still had his finger on her volume button, turning down the racket until every bad thought simply evaporated in the silence that remained.

As they walked into the arena, Ethan gave Chelsea a rundown on how different this experience and the one two weeks ago were from his usual trips to the games.

He’d also supplied the jersey she was currently wearing.

She, of course, was adorned in Preston’s number and name, the jersey practically hanging to her knees.

Allyson, meanwhile, had bought her own a couple of weeks ago, choosing one based solely on the jersey number—sixty-nine.

Allyson was forever destined to have the sense of humor of a thirteen-year-old boy.

Chelsea couldn’t help but be touched by all the effort Preston had gone to tonight to make it a special occasion for her and her friends.

“Here we are,” Allyson announced when they found the box.

“I cannot believe we’ve got box seats.” Allyson, who was usually the life of every party, was a bit subdued tonight.

Not because she didn’t share their enthusiasm but because she was completely overwhelmed.

“I’m pretty sure every member of my family is watching this game tonight.

My cousin Alan said he’d try to get a picture if he sees us on TV. ”

Chelsea had been okay until they got to the box, but as they entered, she felt her nerves kicking in.

She hadn’t fully thought through the implications of sharing the space with family and friends of Preston’s teammates.

What was she supposed to say if someone asked her who she was there to see?

Did she refer to Preston as a friend or…

God knew she wasn’t introducing herself as his baby mama.

As they stepped in, Ethan’s eyes nearly bugged out at the array of snacks and beverages—all free—set up along the back wall. “Do you know how much a beer costs at the concession stand?” he murmured.

Chelsea rolled her eyes, wondering if he was going to spend the entire night breaking down every difference between attending the game as a random person versus as a VIP, which is what they definitely felt like.

The box wasn’t overly crowded. Preston had mentioned there were a handful of spouses/girlfriends/parents who came to every home game, while the rest attended when their schedules allowed.

There were six other people already in the box, all standing together, chatting as they drank beer or wine.

Their arrival didn’t go unnoticed, and two women peeled away from the group to greet them.

“Hey,” an attractive woman said. “I’m Erika Nelson, and this is Ainsley Hall. Would one of you happen to be Chelsea?”

Chelsea lifted her hand. “That’s me.”

Erika smiled widely. “Preston texted me this afternoon to say you and your friends were coming. You must be Ethan and Allyson.”

Everyone shook hands, greeting each other amiably.

“Are you here to root for someone in particular?” Ethan asked Erika.

“Blake Wright is my boyfriend, and Ainsley’s dating the goalie, Coulton Moore.”

Ethan, true to character, gushed about how talented both players were, even turning around and pointing with both thumbs to show Ainsley that he—like her—was wearing Moore’s jersey. “We match!”

Given she’d only watched a half dozen games, Chelsea was grateful Ethan was there to carry the hockey portion of tonight’s conversations.

Because she had basically nothing to contribute.

She listened politely as they chatted about the upcoming game, who was benched due to injuries, who they expected to see on the starting lineup, and how much they all hated Florida—tonight’s competitor.

Allyson asked if there were assigned seats in the box, and Erika told them they were welcome to sit wherever they liked. She even suggested, since it was their first time, that they take the first row of the box so they had a great view.

Ethan loved that offer enough that he quickly walked down to claim a spot, waving Allyson down to point out something of interest on the ice.

Chelsea started to follow, but Erika stopped her. “I’m so glad to finally get to meet you, Chelsea.”

She smiled, even though she got hung up on the word finally .

She and Preston had only reconnected a little over two weeks ago, so finally felt like a strange word.

To make matters worse, Chelsea had never heard Erika’s or Ainsley’s names.

Hell, she only vaguely recalled Preston mentioning Blake and Coulton in passing.

Considering most of their conversations centered around Lennon—because Preston was as obsessed with watching their baby as she was—that wasn’t exactly surprising.

“Blake told me about your son, and he showed me a few of the pictures Preston shared. Lennon, right?” Erika asked.

Chelsea really was a million miles behind. “That’s right.”

“Coulton has showed me nothing, dammit.” Ainsley asked to see a picture, oohing and aahing over Lennon’s undeniable cuteness. The more the two women talked about and gushed over Lennon, the more relaxed Chelsea began to feel.

Allyson left Ethan hanging by the railing of the box to grab drinks. “You want a glass of wine, Chels?”

She requested red, like Erika was drinking. Ainsley, meanwhile, was drinking a beer.

“So how long have you been dating Blake?” Chelsea was ready to change the conversation to something other than herself.

“Officially? Only a few weeks, but we’ve known each other for years. Blake and I live across the hall from each other. Or, I guess I should say did .”

“Did?”

Ainsley answered for Erika. “Blake and Erika moved in together a couple weeks ago.”

“I lost the coin flip,” Erika joked, “so now all my stuff is at Blake’s, and I’m just waiting for my lease to run out before we add my name to his. It works out because it makes things easier for Corky.”

“Who’s Corky?”