Chapter 12
12
NICKY
B eaming with excitement, Karli grabs my arm and pulls me down the stairs to the arena’s rink side seating area. It’s mere moments before the Saints are due to skate onto the ice.
“Welcome to the Brighton front row cheering section,” Nolan greets me with a warm grin.
Sure enough, several members of Ronan’s family are here, all decked out in Saints merchandise bearing the number 17.
It makes me smile. After having a rough few games, Ronan will need all the support he can get tonight.
Stella has her uncle’s jersey number painted on her rosy cheeks. She’s bouncing around, holding up a huge poster board that says, My dad is the handsome twin. But Uncle Ronan’s pretty good at hockey.
I stop in the aisle to admire it. “Well, that’s a cute sign!” I say to the little girl with a laugh.
She grins at me. “My Daddy said he’ll give me five dollars if I hold it up so Uncle Ronan can see it.”
I laugh even harder. “Oh, I’m sure your Uncle Ronan is going to love it.”
I’m starting to get the sense that there’s an ongoing twin rivalry between those two.
“Do you like hockey?” Stella asks me.
“I’m not quite sure yet,” I say honestly. “Actually, this is my first live hockey game ever and I don’t know what to expect.”
The little girl taps my hand patronizingly. “Don’t worry—I’ll explain the rules to you.”
I can’t hide my grin. “Well, thank you.”
I may be here for work, but I think that having some familiar faces to explain what’s going down on the ice will make this evening super fun.
“I’m so excited that I get to hang out with you guys!” I tell the family.
Karli elbows her way between her brothers, still tugging me along on the way to our seats. “Bring on the feminine energy,” she says. “Me and Stella didn’t want to get stuck with these hulking losers tonight.” She grins teasingly at her brothers over her shoulder.
Archer grumbles after his sister. “Keep running your mouth as always, sis. I’m telling you now, I’m not sharing my popcorn with you. You’d better go grab your own while there’s still time.”
“Yeah, sure.” She smirks. Then she whispers to me. “He always shares his popcorn.”
“Good to know,” I respond with a nod.
I like Karli. It’s a miracle we both survived growing up in a home with so much testosterone. When I’m done babysitting her brother, I should try to hang out with her more.
In any case, it’s been a long day and I’m relieved that I finally get to relax. From the time we arrived in Sin Valley this morning, I spent my every moment waiting and hanging on the sidelines while Ronan went around, doing hockey player things in preparation for tonight’s game. Team meeting. Practice. Workout. Good thing I had Emma’s latest five-star romance novel in my briefcase to keep me busy during my ample down time.
Even though I didn’t have any major ‘official’ tasks during the day, it was still draining. I had to keep my guard up the whole time. Vigilantly sticking close enough to Ronan to make sure he wouldn’t get himself into any trouble, while also guarding a safe enough distance to make sure things stay professional between us. It’s a delicate balance to maintain and I’m learning that it requires a surprising amount of mental energy.
That man wants to get into my pants—as evidenced by those steamy looks he keeps sending me. He’s hot as fuck. If I don’t constantly stay on guard, I might just slip and land on his dick. Oops!
When we were alone in his small apartment in the quiet moments before his game, I was so on edge, I could hardly breathe. While he shuffled around the space, going through his routine, I just sat on the sofa and pretended to be super busy, working on my phone.
The reality is, I was trading book recommendations with Emma and house listings with Nadia and cat memes with Meghan and baby names with Alana. Yup. Busy, busy, busy.
I kept up the busy act until he disappeared to take his pre-game nap.
Once we got to the arena, we finally parted ways and I could finally relax a little. I still had a bit of time on my hands before the game. So I explored the stadium for a while, hit the bathroom and then purchased something to drink. When Karli texted to ask if I was around, I was more than excited to see a familiar face. Now that Ronan is about to take the ice, I feel like I can take a breath for the first time all day.
The place isn’t jam-packed. I guess the Saints are still in the process of building a loyal fanbase. But the fans who are here tonight are absolutely buzzing, dressed in Saints merch with their homemade signs at the ready. It’s clear that this crowd believes in the home team.
I’m hopeful, optimistic, fingers and toes crossed, that the Saints will secure a much-needed win tonight.
Karli peeks down at her phone. “I usually drag my friends, Layla and Daphne, along to the games with me. But they couldn’t make it tonight,” she’s saying as she settles into the seat beside me.
“Can’t wait to meet them,” I say. “Where’s Mason?” I glance around the arena for my cousin.
“He’ll be here soon,” Karli tells me, tugging a Saints beanie over her long black hair. “He and Felix are working late at the clinic this evening.”
My eyes flit to the rink at the exact moment that Ronan skates out. The moment he hits the ice, he steals the scene. There’s just something magnetic about him, something that draws the attention of the crowd. The fans in the arena start chanting his last name.
“brIGHTON! brIGHTON! brIGHTON!”
A switch seems to flip on inside of him. Head high. Shoulders back. He feeds off of the energy. His confidence shines through. It becomes clear that, despite the problems with his reputation, people love him.
He skates by the plexiglass, lifting his stick over his head to acknowledge his family. Stella jumps around, enthusiastically yelling his name. He chuckles when he reads her homemade sign.
But when his eyes land on mine, our gazes hold for a moment that seems to draw on. And I can’t bring myself to let go.
Ugh. Why does he have to be so captivating? Especially when he grins at me like that.
Karli nudges my arm, pulling my attention away from Ronan. “Did Mason tell you? We’ve set a wedding date.”
“You have?!” I feel my eyes widen as I light up with excitement.
She mentions a date that’s only a few months away. I immediately pull out my phone to slot it into my personal calendar as well as Ronan’s.
“That soon?” I ask. “Are you sure you’ll have enough time to plan it all?”
Her shoulder lifts in a shrug. “I know it’s all short notice. But Mason and I agree that we don’t need anything big and fancy. We just want to start the rest of our lives together.”
I squeeze my cousin’s fiancée into a quick hug. “A Westbrook-Brighton wedding! You know it’s going to be epic , right?!”
Right then, a grinning Mason slides into the seat next to Karli. He sets the hugest bucket of popcorn into her lap. “We’re counting on it.” He kisses the top of her head and she leans into him, looking absolutely smitten.
The buzzing energy in the arena grows as the players warm up on the ice. Between the rowdy crowd, the excited announcers, the blaring sirens, and flashing strobe lights, the whole atmosphere is electric.
Wow. This is nothing like watching old game clips on the Sports Broadcast Network’s website.
From the drop of the puck, my eyes are glued to Ronan. I barely even notice the other players as I watch the captain flying across the ice.
Ronan Brighton is good .
He skates around the ice like he’s flying. He looks graceful enough to be an olympic figure skater. But at the same time, he comes across too dangerous. Edgy. Intense. The hockey stick is like his weapon, an extension of his body as he slices it through the air, with such precision that he barely shaves it across the surface of the ice when he shoots and scores the first goal of the game.
“Ronan plays one of the forward positions for the Saints,” Karli explains to me, beaming with pride as the crowd roars with cheers. “He’s downright essential to his team’s offense.”
“He’s the center,” Stella interjects from where she’s tucked herself between her aunt and me.
“That’s right,” Karli says proudly. “And what does that mean?” she asks the little girl.
“It means that it’s his job to score goals or to assist by passing the puck to a teammate so they can score.”
“I’m impressed, Stella!” I say as Karli gives her beaming niece a high five.
I’m still playing catch up on my hockey knowledge. I’ve never been a puck bunny by any means. I’ve never even been interested in the sport. So working with Ronan, I’m learning on the fly.
The only thing going in my favor right now is that I have four brothers, so picking up on sports lingo is somehow part of my DNA. I’m hoping to learn this quickly.
I was up half the night Googling his stats. Yes, I Googled him. Only because it’s practically in my job description to know what’s being said about Ronan Brighton online. And judging by the stats I read about his game, he is good at hockey. Damn good.
Karli turns to me, her expression grave. “Ronan could be one of the greats, if he manages to keep himself out of trouble for more than two minutes. I know he can be a huge pain in the bum but what you’re doing—keeping him out of trouble—is so important, Nicky.”
“I’m doing my best,” I say with a sigh.
In the second period, Ronan regains control of the puck. When he comes speeding by the clear divider in front of us, I actually gasp out loud. Wow—that’s talent.
I’m a girl who’s not impressed all that easily. But this man is impressive to watch first hand.
Players from the other team are coming at him from all angles. Somehow, he manages to slip from their reach and maintain possession of the puck. But before he can take the shot, he gets slammed into the boards. Hard.
I freeze, gasping out loud at the brutality of the hit.
Anger roars through the crowd, Sin Valley fans furious over the dirty play. Karli bolts out of her seat, slapping at the plexiglass with her palms and yelling at the referees. Her brothers are yelling right alongside her.
And as for Ronan? He throws his stick down and launches at the defender.
Oh boy…
Both hockey players go down, fighting. I’m on my feet, yelling right along with the crowd as bodies roll and arms fly on the ice.
Can’t lie. I’m surprised by my reaction.
Hockey is an aggressive sport. I get that part. But it’s different watching it in person. It’s electrifying. At least that’s the way it feels here in the stands as I’m rattling the glass divider and hollering and yelling with the rest of the crowd.
I’m sure that my unexpected overreaction to this fight has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s Ronan who’s swinging fists after getting bodychecked into the plexiglass. He quickly gets the upper hand, though. Pinning his opponent to the ice and raining down fists.
The referees are blowing their whistles and teammates are rushing in to pull the brawling players apart. When all is said and done, both players get sent to their respective penalty boxes.
Somehow, the game loses its appeal now that Ronan is on the sidelines. Instead of tuning into the match, I find my eyes lingering on him as he sits out his punishment.
I feel someone’s shoulder bump into mine. I turn and find Karli looking at me. “The game is on the ice, not in the penalty box,” she mumbles, a smile pulling up the corner of her mouth.
Busted.
“What?” I blink innocently at her.
She smirks knowingly, shifting her eyes back to the game. “Nothing. Never mind.”
While Ronan is still inside the penalty box, the other team scores a goal. My eyes flick immediately to where he’s at. He’s pissed. Understandably so.
I see him slamming his helmet against the bench. He yanks off his gloves and flings them over his back. Then he hangs his head in shame.
His reaction is not great. His glove almost thwacks a fan in the face, and there’s no way that won’t be on the news tonight.
Oh, dammit, Ronan…
Anyway, things go downhill for the Saints from there.The team loses the match, 4-2.
The interviews after the game follow the same trajectory straight to hell. During the press conference, Ronan definitely doesn’t put his media training into practice. He answers every question with some rude remark, and the sports journalists are not impressed. I watch the shitshow from the side of the room. At least he doesn’t say anything about not wanting to be here, but his body language screams it loud and clear anyway.
And lucky me. I get to ride all the way back home with this grumpy man.