Chapter 5
RAIN
Standing at the arena’s platform, I watched the ice below, feeling rather overwhelmed.
I’d forgotten how much life there was in hockey. It was everywhere. Fans pressed close to the rink, separated only by a partition and some nets. Even now, during warm-ups, kids were down there—holding signs, trying to get the players’ attention to have a puck tossed through the netting to them.
I’d forgotten.
I ached to go on that ice, to feel the smooth slide of it underneath my own skates.
Some of the players were dancing to the music, joking with each other, stretching on the ice.
They were playful. Some kids thought it was funny when they wiggled their hips.
This game was so fierce. So fast. Possessive.
Loyal. Violent. But there were moments of hilarity. It was endearing and addictive.
A deep ache bloomed inside of me as I let myself reminisce about the parts of this world I loved, the parts I missed. I hadn’t let myself feel it in so long. I wiped a tear before it fell.
Enough. I took a deep breath and began compartmentalizing. Everything that had been surfacing went back in its own drawer.
“HOLY SHIT!”
I jumped at the sudden explosion that boomed from the guy next to me. I’d ventured down the steps without realizing it, migrating closer to the ice. A murmur rose through the crowd as he stared down at his phone, his mouth hanging open.
Something had happened. Something big.
The air grew thick with excitement. Some people were cursing.
“What?” A woman gasped near me, breathless. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”
“I—holy fuck. I can’t even—how did this happen?” The guy was stunned. “I—we’re screwed. We’re so totally fucked if this is true.”
“There he is!” someone screamed.
The volume in the stadium cranked up, and the air was throbbing. Heady. I noted that the guy who already sounded defeated was wearing the rival team’s jersey.
This was probably about the new player Benoit had mentioned.
Suddenly there was an opening in the crowd of players, and I saw him.
My head whirled.
Tyler Griffin. Wearing a Minnesota Grays jersey. Their metallic wolf was smack in the middle of his chest.
The fans were right. This was huge. Huge.
How did this happen?
Tyler Griffin was one of the top five players in the entire league, possibly top three.
He’d been picked up by New York in the draft a few years back, and he’d never left.
They’d built an entire team around him, and they’d won the Stanley Cup for the last five years.
People had begun to hate them, because that’s what happens when a team is on top for too long.
But that doesn’t mean they weren’t good.
Dazed, I stood in stunned disbelief, alongside thousands who were flabbergasted right along with me. Looking up at the Jumbotron, I watched as the camera followed him around. Tyler Griffin.
A totally different anxiety slammed into my chest. I needed to sit down. Stat. Because if I took this job, I’d have to work with him.
I’d have to talk to Tyler.
The other shoe had officially dropped.