The Secret Play (Pucking Daddies #3)

34. Gemma

Chapter 34

Gemma

T he second intermission always felt like the longest part of the night, but tonight, it was excruciating. Megan had been distracted by her phone, giggling, and suddenly offered to take Winnie to the bathroom. I figured she wanted an excuse to hunt Nico down and flirt with him. Maybe they’d been texting back and forth. I wasn’t sure why she was so giggly before she left, but she was happy about something, and I was glad to see it.

Megan wasn’t like most people. It took a lot to make her happy. Nico was a lot. So, the two of them seemed to fit. Not to mention the fact that she’d been crushing on him since she first came over to my house when we were kids. I could still see her in my mind, eyes wide, mouth open as he breezed past her to dig through the refrigerator. She nearly dropped the orange juice. At the time, I didn’t understand what was wrong and had asked her, “Are you feeling okay? You look like you’re about to throw up.”

I learned that was not the thing to say to your new best friend when she was staring at her very first crush.

I shook my head at the memory. Felt like a lifetime ago, around the same time Megan and Winnie had left. I was alone in the sea of excited fans, so it wasn’t too bad. Everybody was in a good mood, enjoying the game. The arena buzzed with anticipation for the final period, the energy thick enough to feel it in the air. It was almost enough for me to forget about the signs sprinkled through the stands. But then I read some of them.

“Puck Gemma!” a sign read. That was a particularly popular phrase. Some posters were more colorful. None were flattering. Only then did I realize people were glancing my way.

I sank lower in my seat, pulling my jacket tighter around me as if it could shield me from the stares in my direction. The article had a photo of me at the bottom, so only the dedicated readers knew what I looked like, but by the number of signs, it was easy to assume there were plenty of them here. Given the finger-pointing and glares, I was sure I’d been spotted.

I had to suck it up, though. I’d earned this.

I deserved the scrutiny. I’d invited it the moment I decided to write that article. It was a calculated risk worth taking to save Casey’s job. I knew this was coming. It wasn’t the first time the public had collectively decided to hate someone. But it was one thing to know it would happen and another to sit here in the arena, vulnerable and alone, feeling the sharp edges of the crowd’s judgment.

The Zamboni made its slow laps around the ice. I stared at it, trying to zone out and dissociate. Anything was better than watching people gossip about me. I hadn’t felt this dissected since I told my brother I was pregnant with Winnie. Granted, I was already in LA by then, so at least I didn’t have to face him right away.

It took half a day, thanks to flight delays. But he had shown up at my apartment in LA, looking for the asshole who had “knocked me up.” When I told him I wasn’t going to tell him who the father was, and we had a few more ugly exchanges, he took off, having spent less than an hour in LA total. He was so angry, and he had no outlet for that anger, so he threw himself into practice after practice until he cooled down. Now, he attributed his increased skill to that time period, but we both knew that wasn’t where he got his talent from. He worked hard for it, period.

It took a long time for him to forgive me for not telling him who the father was. I wondered how long it would take an arena full of strangers to get over the article.

I glanced around, looking for my best friend and my daughter, only to be met with more scowls. A woman pointed at me, and her friend mouthed, “Disgusting.” At least, I thought that was what she said. Thankfully, at this distance, I couldn’t hear them. I didn’t want to know anything else, except for one thing.

Where are Megan and Winnie?

Not that I wanted them to face this with me. But I was fairly certain no one would mess with me if my adorable daughter were with me. Plus, Megan threw a mean right hook from taking boxing at computer summer camp. These days, she liked to play on the boxing machines in bars to earn free drinks from guys who thought they could beat her. It was one of the few outings she actually enjoyed.

I was surprised she had jumped on the trip to the arena. It was filled with everything she didn’t like: people, loud noises, and the cold. But when it came to Nico and Winnie, she was a trouper.

The seconds ticked on, and they were still gone, making the minutes stretch unbearably. I glanced around, darting toward the aisle where I hoped they’d appear. That was when I saw her. A woman a few rows up was staring at me.

Not just staring, either. She’d been holding one of the signs earlier, and now her eyes locked on me with a level of intensity that made me want to hide. Her face was stern, her jaw set, and her anger radiated through me.

Please, no.

She stood abruptly, clutching her sign as she marched toward me. Her movements were purposeful, her expression unwavering. There was no avoiding this. Did she plan to wield the, “Coach can get it!” fan sign as a weapon? Or would she go personal and use her fists?

My heart pounded as I gripped the edge of my seat, my breath coming shallow and quick. I didn’t know what she would say, but I braced myself for the worst. I was not much of a fighter. I preferred avoiding confrontation if I could, and I’d never fought a woman before. Handsy guys, sure, but a woman? She knew how to hurt me because she had all the same parts.

I didn’t even know if security was around to stop her. Fights in hockey stands were nothing new, though they usually happened during the game, not the intermission. I looked for any of the men in a security jacket, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Once other fans figured out who I was, they might join in. My phone had died long ago. I was on my own now. I had to handle the mess I’d made.

You deserve this, Gemma , I thought. You did worse to Casey. An ass-kicking is nothing compared to that .

The woman stopped a few feet away, her eyes narrowing as she looked me over. “You’re her, aren’t you? The bitch who hurt our coach?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. How could I explain myself to a stranger? Who would understand the choices I made back then? There was nothing I could say to her to make her not hate me before she took a swing. Stale beer scent wafted off of her, so I also had that to contend with. How do you calm a drunk woman fueled by righteous anger?

The answer was, you don’t. You just do what you can to mitigate the damage. I braced for whatever came next.

She growled, “You’re the one who?—”

Before she could finish, the announcer’s cheesy voice boomed through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the Kiss Cam!”

The woman froze as everyone’s attention shifted toward the screens. The crowd cheered, their excitement palpable as the camera began its sweep of the audience.

I had always hated the Kiss Cam schtick, but not tonight. Tonight, it had saved me. Or it had postponed my beating. I exhaled shakily, grateful for the unexpected distraction. My nerves were still raw, though. Tonight had been harder than I had thought it’d be.

I considered using the distraction to get the hell out of there, but my would-be attacker blocked my aisle on one end and the other side had too many people to crawl over. My choices were to face her or try and grapple with a dozen people, half of whom were standing. In these tight quarters, I didn’t like my odds.

The Kiss Cam usually focused on couples in the stands, drawing laughter and applause as the camera coaxed them into a kiss. It was the perfect distraction for her to use to attack me. But tonight, something was different. The camera didn’t stop on any of the usual suspects.

Instead, it focused on me.

What the hell?

I wasn’t there with anyone except for the woman who wanted to wring my neck and the knot of people at the other end of my row. Before I could shake my head or signal them to get the camera off me, I thought better of it. Keep the camera on me, so she’ll leave me alone . But then the lights lowered. The next shot was of the ice, where the Fire players were skating onto the rink in an unusual spreading formation.

I frowned, stretching up straighter as I tried to understand what I saw. My attacker did, too, preoccupied by the spectacle instead of me. The players moved deliberately, their movements coordinated and precise, until they formed a giant heart at center ice. The crowd gasped, murmurs and light clapping rippling through the arena as the spotlight zeroed in on the center of the heart.

There, standing proudly, was Winnie. She held a bouquet of flowers so large it seemed to dwarf her tiny frame, and she was waving at me with a grin that could light up the entire arena.

“Hi, Mommy!” her voice echoed through the speakers, clear and full of excitement. Someone had put a microphone on my baby girl.

My heart leaped into my throat. What is happening?

Before I could fully process what I was seeing, movement caught the corner of my eye.

I turned, and there he was.

Casey.

The camera put us on screen for everyone to see.

He kneeled beside my seat, looking up at me with a nervous smile that made time stop. Even with the whole arena staring at us, the world shrank until it was just him and me, and the crowd's roar faded into a dull hum.

“Casey,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over my heart pounding. I thought I knew what this was, but it couldn’t be that. People like me didn’t get things like this.

He slipped the ring from his thumb and held it out to me in his open palm. The one I’d seen him wear every day. The one he had come back for, despite what I’d admitted to, despite his pain and suffering. It was that important to him. His father’s wedding ring.

And now, he offered it to me.

Before he said a word, I laughed, trying to stop tears from pricking my eyes. “We always do things the weird way, don’t we?”

My voice echoed through the arena. He must have worn a microphone. “Yeah, I think we do,” he said with a chuckle. “I love you. I love Winnie. Let’s make weird things our family tradition.”

I gulped, and the tears welled in my eyes. “You mean that?”

“Gemma Grimaldi, will you marry me?”

The arena went silent, the question spreading like a ripple through the crowd. Thousands of eyes stared at us, but I saw only Casey. I wanted to throw my arms around him and never let go. A smile broke across my face, or maybe it had been there since I realized he was by my side. That was Casey in a nutshell. If I said yes, he’d always be by my side. What else could I possibly ask for?

I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks as I whispered, “Yes.”

The crowd erupted, their cheers crashing through the arena like a tidal wave. Casey slipped the ring onto my finger, his hands steady even as mine trembled. It didn’t fit at all, so I clenched my fist to keep it safe.

He stood, pulling me to my feet, and cupped my face in his hands. He kissed me so hard that I went limp in his arms.

When we pulled back, I grinned mischievously, the teasing words slipping out before I could stop them. “Under one condition.” My voice echoed—I’d forgotten about his microphone.

His brow furrowed, his expression shifting to one of concern. “What’s that?”

I gestured toward the ice, where the team was still in formation. “You have to win tonight.”

The crowd ate it up, their cheers even louder than before. Even the angry sign lady cheered along with them.

His grin returned. “Consider it done.”