I tug off my skates as the girls all crowd around their two coaches, eagerly listening to instructions.
They split them into two teams and select two girls as goalies. They take half the rink each and line up to take shots.
Silently, I do a little cheer for each girl who sinks the puck in the net.
I completely lose track of time watching them as they start a game.
Before I know it, parents are beginning to appear at the other side of the rink, ready to collect their daughters, and I finally place my skates in my bag and head off.
When I return to my car, I feel lighter, almost like I’m ready to tackle returning to work and looking Dad in the eyes without feeling guilty as fuck.
He’s always been pretty perceptive when it comes to me. Even when I was a hormonal teenager, he could take one look at me and know what I needed.
If he even suspects anything, then he’ll be like a dog with a bone until he gets the truth.
Thankfully, with preseason upon us, he should be a little distracted.
The Vipers’ first exhibition game is just over a week away. The guys are already hard at work getting ready, and I know that despite his experience, Dad feels the pressure of the upcoming season more and more every year.
He shouldn’t. He’s a fantastic coach, and the entire organization loves him. But I guess it’s easier said than done.
Lowering my ass to the couch, I wake my cell up as I drink my coffee and look through all the photos that have been posted of Friday night.
I did the same more than once yesterday, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it again for fear that there will be one of me that will allow someone to recognize me.
Confident that I’m safe, I take myself to the shower. I’ve got some work I want to do for tomorrow, but my only other plans for the day include watching some kind of documentary on Netflix.
I really am living the dream right here.
“I’ve just pulled up outside,” Parker says the second I answer her call. “Let me in.”
“Hey, it’s nice to speak you too,” I tease.
“Oh, shush. I have tacos.”
“You totally should have led with that,” I mock as I pull my cell from my ear and find the app that will grant her entry to the building.
She laughs down the line before saying, “See you in two,” and cutting the call.
A few minutes later, my front door slams, and my best friend’s footsteps move toward me. But before I see her, the scent of the food she’s brought with her hits my nose.
My stomach growls, and I sit forward, ready to accept her gift.
“Good to know which one of us you want more,” Parker teases when I make grabby hands for the bag. She clutches it to her chest and sticks her tongue out as she stalks past me.
She places the bag on the coffee table before goingto the kitchen and grabbing everything we need as if she’s in her own place.
“Have I told you you’re the best?”
She glances over at me before throwing her long red hair over her shoulder and dropping onto the other end of the couch. “Nowhere near enough.”
Parker and I first met in kindergarten, and we’ve been best friends ever since.
It helps that her dad was also a hockey player, so we had a lot in common that other kids couldn’t understand. Mostly, our obsession for the sport we grew up surrounded by.
Silence falls as we dive into our tacos.But the guilt I’m carrying over keeping such a huge secret from her never leaves me.
“So…” she eventually mumbles around a mouthful of food. “I saw something interesting earlier when I was scrolling through images of the masquerade ball on Friday night.”
