Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Lexi
This is a big game, so all the wives, girlfriends, friends, and family are here tonight.
My band is here—except for Stu and Lindsay—and I got tickets for the guys in Crimson Edge.
I’m sitting with Mack and the guys from Crimson Edge, and we’re in the section with the other wives and girlfriends, so it’s a full house.
The rest of my band is up in the owner’s box since Ariel is too big of a star to be out with the rest of us.
Just after the first puck drops, Kirsten comes hurrying down the aisle. She crouches down since the game is going on, and motions to Sam.
“Hey, can I have your seat for five minutes? I just need to talk to Lexi and then you can have it back.”
“No.” He gives her a slow, lazy smile. “But you can sit on my lap for five minutes while you talk to her.” They exchange a look I can’t quite decipher, but she doesn’t hesitate and quickly scoots down and plops onto his lap.
“Hey.” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on, but no one has approached me about replacing you and I would never. I leave for college mid-August and that’s not going to change.”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t worried about it. But thank you for saying so.”
“I don’t know who started that rumor, but it pissed me off,” she says. “I talked to Ford right away. He said that journalist was just trying to get you guys to make a statement about the pregnancy, but I wanted to make sure you knew it had nothing to do with me.”
“I appreciate you. Don’t worry about it. I have an idea how the pregnancy rumor got started anyway.”
“Okay. I just didn’t want you to be mad at me.” She looks so sincere I wish I could hug her.
“Not at all. Go enjoy the game. And anyway, if I go into labor on stage, you may have to help out for a few shows!”
She grins. “Well, that I can do. I’m going back to my seat now.”
“Where are you sitting?” Sam asks her. “I’ll walk you back.”
They get up at the next break in play, and I watch them walk away with a smirk.
“He’s got it bad,” Jonny groans. “And we do not have time for love.”
“I don’t think love cares about that,” I say gently. “When it happens, it happens.”
He grimaces. “We just got a record deal and recorded our first album. We’re going on tour with you guys in a few weeks, and she’s going to college in New York. That’s going to be a disaster if he doesn’t get his head out of his ass.”
“He’ll be okay,” Angus says with a smile. “Sam’s got a good head on his shoulders, and Kirsten’s a good girl. They’ll figure it out or they won’t. Either way, it won’t impact the band. You gotta separate the personal and the professional.”
“It’s not always that easy,” I murmur, my gaze drifting to the ice. Zaan is out there, and he looks tired. Slower than usual. Not quite himself.
And it’s my fault.
I hate that it’s come to this.
We really need to talk.
As much as it hurts that he wants me to slow down, potentially take a year off, we have to find a compromise. Maybe I leave the tour when I hit my third trimester. At six months, I should feel decent but getting to a point where I’m tired.
I don’t have any answers, but I think about a lot of options and possibilities as I watch the game.
And it’s brutal.
Both teams obviously want to win.
In my opinion, Seattle looks stronger, but Simon is an amazing goalie who keeps us in it.
As we get to the third period, they’re battling harder and harder.
The score is tied, 2-2, and there are two minutes left on the clock.
The arena is really loud, and we’re all on the edge of our seats.
Best case scenario: we score and win.
Worst case scenario: they score and win.
Most likely scenario: we’re going to overtime.
I reach over and grip Mack’s forearm. “This is always so freakin’ stressful.”
“I know.” She nods, her eyes glued to the ice. “Your dad went to bed at midnight and was up at four thirty. He’s been a bundle of nerves.” My dad is the team’s goalie coach, so he’s deeply invested in all of this.
Just like the rest of us.
“Come on, come on, come on!” I whisper as Anton takes the puck toward Seattle’s goal and shoots.
It bounces off the post and then one of the guys from Seattle is flying down the ice toward Simon.
And he’s all alone. Anton went for a line change and somehow, the guys are caught with no one protecting our goal.
“Fuck,” Mack mutters, gripping my hand.
Luckily, Simon blocks the shot but the guy shoots again. And again.
“Oh my god.” There’s a scuffle behind the boards, and finally the new line is in there. Including Zaan.
They’re still battling hard, like their lives depend on it, and I guess it does since the season is over for whoever loses tonight.
Seattle shoots again, and a third time, and there’s less than a minute on the clock.
“Jesus, if I was later in my pregnancy, I’d probably go into labor,” I whisper to Mack.
She chuckles. “Let’s not do that.”
“Oh shit!” I gape as there’s another breakaway and the guy from Seattle is barreling down on Simon.
Then everything happens so fast it doesn’t register at first.
The guy from Seattle pulling back his stick and firing the puck toward the goal.
Zaan throwing himself down on the ice to stop it.
And then someone blows a whistle, play stops, and Zaan doesn’t move.
“Zaan…” I’m on my feet, fists pressed against my mouth.
“Oh no.” Mack is beside me, her arm around my waist.
“Please get up, baby…” I whisper. “Please get up.”
The team’s trainers run out onto the ice and drop down, talking to him.
And still, he doesn’t move.
“No no no. Mack, what’s happening?” I cry out.
“I don’t know, honey.” Her voice is gruff.
The arena is silent as we wait.
They bring out a stretcher.
“I have to go!” I turn and push my way past everyone, practically flying through the concourse toward the private elevators that take you down to the player level. I have an all-access family pass that gets me down there, though they usually don’t like us to hang out anywhere but the family lounge.
But I don’t give a fuck.
I have to get to him.
Now.