Page 78 of Center Ice
“I can’t believe that the first time you indicated how strong your feelings were was to yoursister, who you don’t even like, and not to Audrey!”
“I see whose side you’re on,” I tease.
“I’m not on anyone’s side,” she says. “I just want you guys to end up together, and if you keep doing stupid shit like that, it’s not going to happen. Justshowher she matters to you instead of telling her. Trust me, that’s what every woman wants.”
“I’m working on it,” I assure her. “And I’m hoping you can meet her soon.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
AUDREY
Idon’t know how I already forgot what it feels like to watch Drew play—the thrill and the terror that volley back and forth leave me exhausted, like I’ve run a marathon even though all I’ve done for the past forty-five minutes is squeeze Lauren’s hand so hard I worry she’s going to be bruised tomorrow.
Graham is sitting on the other side of Jameson, who’s explaining all the technicalities of the game to him, blissfully unaware of my turmoil. Instead, he’s thrilled each time Drew comes off the ice and glances up, giving him a nod.
But right now, I feel like I might have a heart attack, because Drew is only about ten feet from our seats when he passes the puck to one of the wingers and is slammed into the boards by Colorado’s captain. Words are exchanged, Drew pushes Leland Alistair away from him and tries to skate off, and Alistair follows him across the ice.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
“Didn’t they used to be teammates?” Jules asks, as confused by this behavior as I am.
“Yeah,” I say. “He hasn’t really talked much about his time in Colorado. But we all know they weren’t the best years of his career.”
“It was bad,” Lauren says quietly as she leans over. “I don’t know all the details, but there was something between the two of them that involved Alistair’s wife.” I don’t know what she sees on my face when she says this, but she quickly follows it up with, “But it wasn’t Drew’s fault.”
I always think of the Rebels as Jameson’s thing. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Lauren works for the team and is good friends with the general manager, AJ. While a lot of people would try to leverage that job for social capital, Lauren’s always been so understated about it.
“How do you know it wasn’t his fault?” I ask.
“Because he told AJ everything.”
Everything…from his point of view. But there are always two sides to every story. And he’s going to tell his GM the story in a way that paints him in the best possible light. Could he have actually had an affair with his teammate’s wife?
I take a deep breath and remind myself that just because my mind is going to the worst possible scenario, that doesn’t mean it’s what happened. And it doesn’t track with the kind of person Drew has shown me he is. I release my breath, trying to expel any negative thoughts.
The ref blows the whistle, and Drew lines up for the face-off, then Alistair skates into the circle opposite him. He sets his skates forward and puts his blade on the ice, and though we can’t hear what he’s saying, it’s clear that he’s chirping at Drew.
Drew sets his own blade on the ice, and the ref holds the puck above their sticks, but before he can drop it, Alistair raises his stick between Drew’s legs and pulls forward so that the blade connects with the back of Drew’s knee, making his leg buckle as his leg is pulled out from under him by Alistair’s stick. He ends up on the ice and the whistle is blown, but the entire rink erupts into chaos as Boston players fight with Colorado players in retribution for Alistair’s offense.
Drew’s up on his feet, gloves off in a matter of a second, but the refs are already on Alistair and sending him to the penalty box. As fighting is a standard part of hockey, normally they’ll let the players get into it. It’s almost like they anticipated this and were already planning to prevent the fight.
Drew looks like he wants to kill someone as he skates back toward the bench, but right before he gets there, he looks up and we lock eyes. I don’t know what to make of the smirk that crosses his face, until he pulls at the jersey where it’s stretched over his chest pads. I told him I wouldn’t be wearing his jersey, and there’s no way he didn’t notice when he saw me before the game started, so why he waited until near the end of the first period to make a point of it is beyond me.
I went for more of the Wives and Girlfriends look tonight. I’m wearing a pair of navy-blue skinny pants that hug the curves Drew says he loves so much, a fitted white long-sleeve t-shirt with a deep V-neck, and a gray-blue blazer that matches the Rebels’ blue. I was entirely happy with this outfit, except now a chill runs through me and I wish I’d worn something warmer.
Less than a minute later, the buzzer sounds to mark the end of the first period, and Drew glances up one more time as he heads to the hallway that will lead back to the locker rooms.
“What the hell just happened between Drew and the Colorado guy?” Jules asks Jameson. I lean forward to hear his response, but he gives us a curt shake of his head, like he’s saying,Not here.
“Excuse me, miss?” I hear as someone taps my shoulder from behind. I turn to find a guy probably about my age in Rebels sweats and a sweatshirt with a lanyard around his neck.
“Yeah?”
“Uh, Drew Jenkins thought you looked cold and asked me to give you this.” He hands me a black parka with a big white Rebels logo embroidered on the back. If I thought wearing hisjersey would be noticeable, this would be like wearing a flashing neon sign—because this is very clearly a player’s jacket.
I’m momentarily paralyzed. If I accept the jacket, I’m sending him the message that I’m his, and I’m okay with everyone knowing it. If I don’t accept it, it’s one more time I’m rebuffing him when he’s clearly trying. The second option feels petty. Idowant Drew and me to end up together; I just want it to happen in a measured and thoughtful way. I want him to choose me because he can’t live without me, not just because we have a kid together.
“Tell him…” I swallow, as I reach out my hand to accept the offered jacket. “Tell him I said thanks.”
