Ryan stood in front it, waiting. He held up two thumbs and ran the other way. “Change. I need to let Coach know you were in bumper to bumper on the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“I’ll show you to your seat.” The guy who’d brought us up pointed to a set of double doors that led to the arena.
“I don’t have a seat,” she replied.
He glanced at me and I explained. “He’ll…take you to my seats, you can watch the game from there.”
Harper blinked. “Your seats?”
I dropped my voice and leaned in to her ear. “You’ll need to be up close if you plan on studying me again,” I winked to ease her hesitation. Though I doubted I’d be getting any ice time.
In fact, I shouldn’t.
But I knew Harper felt awkward about it so I tried to sound as lighthearted as someone like me possibly could.
“I’m not staying. How do I find the guy who took my car?”
I ran a hand through my hair. Was that even something I—or Troy was supposed to know? I wondered how often these guys had to be on standby for a late player to come flying in through a side door. Something I’d need to find Ryan to ask.
Thank God for him. I’d have gone crazy if I had to deal with this on my own. Hopefully he had enough power to keep me off the ice today. I considered bandaging my knee so there was no suspicion.
Releasing a heavy breath, I reached for her hand again. “I’m sorry I dragged you here, but I can’t get them right now. I need to get changed.” I kept my voice soft and hoped she’d understand.
“What am I supposed to do?”
I shrugged and shot her a grin before pushing the locker room door. “Get my good side this time.”
“Tall order.” She turned with a small smirk and I chuckled.
I wasn’t entirely sure if I reveled in the fact that it was me she sketched to a tee. Not when she thought it was someone else. Took all the flattery away from it.
Ryan texted that some guys on the team were going to do their on-ice routine and warm up while the house filled up, the early arriving fans got to see that part and the cheers helped pump up the team. Most of the routine was crazy superstition. Troy would go around the ice seven times before a game.
I suited up and tied up the laces on Troy’s skates—wishing I had brought my own. Troy and I were the same size and even though I doubted I’d be hitting the ice at all tonight, I’d rather be in my own skates.
Granted it had been nearly two years since I’d put them on.
There was a bang on a locker door.
“Looking good,” Ryan eyed me head to toe. We just finished warm-up and lining up.”
I looked up at him, shaking my head. “Thanks for covering for Troy.”
“Shouldn’t that be our line?” Simon Mathers, the head team Captain followed behind Ryan.
“Sorry, he knew something was up, so I had to tell him. That and a reason we needed to keep you off the ice today.”
I released a breath and ran a hand through my already sweaty scalp.
“I don’t know why you’re doing it, but I appreciate it,” Simon added. “Not because we care about Troy’s future, I’m just looking out for our team. If word gets out that Troy Hartman is MIA. It’s all anyone would see when the Blades are playing. Then we start losing our best to trades. There’s an image we need to uphold. We’re a strong team. We always were.”
“What’s going to happen if—”
“Nothing good,” Ryan shook his head, standing beside the first Captain. I didn’t blame the guy. As alternate, he had an obligation to be loyal and honest.
There was a loud knock on the door before someone stormed in. Coach Higgins.
“Hartman,” he bellowed.
