Chapter 35
HEAR ME ROAR
Ivy
Breaking news—the fog was a dud.
But I haven’t even been able to talk to the guys about the online poll results. I haven’t seen either my husband or my secret boyfriend since they flew back to town.
It’s weird, especially after the last several days of regular communication. Of nightly plans.
Okay, fine, their flight landed in the middle of the night. I didn’t expect or want a visitor at three a.m., but we didn’t make plans for today either. I wrote to them this morning in our group chat and asked if they wanted to get together today or tonight after the game.
The only response? A note from Hayes saying he was taking part in the optional practice, and then a note from Stefan asking how things were going at the store.
I’m heading to the arena now to debut the next mascot option, feeling off, like my clothes are too tight. Possibly I’m reading something into nothing, but their almost silence feels strange.
Maybe this is just the normal ups and downs of an unconventional arrangement?
The thing is—I don’t know the rules. As I near the arena, I mull over the last few days.
I’ve been busy too. I had a practice yesterday with the Ice Crew.
I spent the day today with Beatrix, Karl, and Roxy, shooting videos and photos for the store’s social feed.
I suppose I wouldn’t have been able to see the guys anyway.
But we don’t have plans for tonight, and I’m trying not to let that bother me. Trying being the operative word. I check my phone constantly as I walk, hoping for a text, a picture, a plan. Something like we’ve had since we returned from Vegas nearly two weeks ago.
It stays silent, and my gut twists with worry.
When I arrive at the arena, the quiet nags at me even more. Something has shifted. It doesn’t feel like how we were before. And you know what? I don’t need to put up with it.
They told me I’m smart and fierce, and a smart and fierce woman would ask, What’s your deal?
I click open our group thread as I push open the door to the arena, then write as I walk.
Ivy: Hey! Hope you guys are having a good day. It feels weird to me that we haven’t made plans, and I don’t like feeling this way. I want to see you both. Do you want to come over tonight?
I reread it but before I can hit send, Oliver rounds the corner and catches up to me. “Hey, Ivy! Kana is looking for you.”
“Brady’s wife?” I know who she is. I’m just surprised.
“She’s up at the wives’ and girlfriends’ suite.
And boyfriends’ and husbands’,” he quickly adds.
One of the defensemen, Tom, is married to Gilberto from Sao Paulo, the star of the San Francisco Firefighters Calendar.
They were shipped all over the city when Gilberto attended a game before they started dating.
I volunteer to head over to the suite on my own, but Oliver’s too helpful to let me do that, so he walks with me. Along the way, we chat about the poll results, and he whispers, “The Fog was Jessie’s idea. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was bad.”
I laugh. I get it. “No one wants to tell the boss when she’s wrong.”
“You get me,” he says.
When I reach the suite, Kana greets me like we’re old friends. “It’s been too long, Mrs. Armstrong,” she says, then flashes a welcoming grin.
I smile back, but inside I feel unsteady. Mr. Armstrong has barely written to me. Neither has my secret boyfriend. Yes, Kana’s in on the fake marriage, but I feel like I’m not in on something now.
I’m not in on my relationship.
Still, I put on a good face, like I know how to do, and I wave to the crew. “Hi there.”
Kana takes me under her wing and makes some quick intros and then says, “Brady and I got a sitter next Sunday, and we’re having a board game and dinner party. Can you join us?” She gestures to the room. “We’ll all be there, and I sent an invite to your brother, and Chase and Trina.”
“You’d better be there,” a pretty redhead calls out to me. That’s Eva, Dev’s girlfriend.
“But fair warning—Tom and I slay in Cards Against Humanity.” The boast comes from a strapping and devastatingly gorgeous man. He has a light Brazilian accent, but it’s the cheekbones I recognize from the fireman centerfold.
I wish I could tell them Hayes and I are aces at something. Until today, I thought our strongest suit was communicating with each other. “I’ll consider myself warned.” Since I don’t even know if Hayes wants me to RSVP, I add, “I’ll check with Hayes, but—”
“He’ll be good with it,” Gilberto says with easy confidence.
I wish I were as certain as he sounds.
As I leave, that feeling of dread creeps back up in me. The second I’m alone I’m going to send the text to them, but when Oliver and I leave the suite, Jessie pops out of hers, smoothing a hand over her blouse and catching my attention.
“You’re just the person I need to see,” she says in her Texas drawl, then she shoos Oliver away. “This is girl talk.”
Uh-oh. Is that code for she knows the truth? And why does that fill me with so much anxiety?
“Sure,” I say carefully as Oliver waves goodbye.
Jessie gestures for me to follow her down a quiet hall, and I keep pace until we reach privacy and she spins around, tugging at her cream-colored silk blouse. “What does a full-chested woman do about this?”
One more pull and I see the problem. The gap at the boobs.
“All day, I swear,” she whispers, “I’m convinced everyone can see my bra.”
I’ve got this. “Charlotte Everly has a line of blouses by cup size.”
Jessie’s brown eyes widen. “What is this wizardry you speak of? And can I get one in black tomorrow?”
I nod crisply. “I’ll bring you one.”
“You will?”
“I’d love to,” I say, genuinely thrilled at the idea.
“Sold,” she says, then like she did in Vegas, she studies me again, peering at my neck. I’m wearing a silver necklace with a skull and crossbones pendant. “The Pirates? The Swords? The Swashbucklers?” Then she rolls her eyes. “Swashbucklers sounds like someone swallowed a belt.”
“I won’t argue with you there,” I say, laughing.
“And what would that mascot costume even look like?” she muses.
“I hope not a blob,” I say.
Oh shit, I said that out loud. Is she going to be pissed?
“Or a sad cloud?” She sighs, and I’m relieved she agrees. “That was my husband’s idea. Why did I listen to him? I need a cute animal that’ll bite your face off.”
“That’s the new team name litmus test—cute but mean.”
She points at me and nods, silently conveying got it in one, before saying goodbye. On my way back to the equipment room, I hold my head up high, take out my phone, and send the text to the guys.
I’m not the same girl I was with Xander. The girl who accepted less. I’m the woman giving fashion tips to the powerful owner of an NHL team.
In the equipment room, I change quickly into my costume.
This time I’m a polar bear, and I have to say I look pretty fucking fierce.
Like a cute animal that’ll bite your face off.
I set off down the hall toward the ice with my polar bear head under my arm.
I hear someone behind me pick up the pace then mutter something that sounds like fuck it.
Before I can turn around, a familiar voice whispers, “Hey.”
It warms me up. I turn to Stefan, but he’s alone. Hayes isn’t around.
Stefan’s looking at me like that just doesn’t matter. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“Hi,” I say, tentatively.
Is this how it’ll be between him and me? But what does that mean when I’m still married to his teammate? And what was he saying fuck it to?
“I got your text,” he responds.
And???
But I’ve already turned off my phone, and there’s no time to ask what he answered because Dev’s booming, “Let’s do this, Viking,” fills the corridor.
Stefan holds my gaze for a long, weighty beat, then mouths I’m sorry before he turns to join his teammate.
What is he sorry for though? The gaze? The poor communication? The apologetic stare that lingered?
They walk ahead of me, and as I pull on my polar bear head, my human one is more muddled than ever.
* * *
In the first intermission, I skate circles around the Ice Crew as they sweep the rink. During the game, I whip up the crowds in the stands, urging them to roar when the Avengers—or maybe the soon-to-be Polar Bears—score.
The crowds don’t just roar. They growl, and hoot, and howl, and that gets the polar bear in me even more riled up. I shake my hips. I shimmy my butt. And I dance until it’s time to strap on my skates once more for the second intermission.
I glide across the ice on one furry leg, the other one sticking out behind me.
Laughter fills the arena as I continue my bear antics. When the clock ticks down toward the end of the period, Moses in the Ice Crew chases me with his broom.
But this bear is powerful. This bear is faster. I outrun him, heading toward the edge of the ice, then spin around and taunt him like we’re on a playground. You can’t catch me.
Then, like we rehearsed, I give him one last chance, and he tries to catch me. Oh hell, does he ever try. I fly down the ice, Moses at my blades, but when I reach the door to the tunnel, he slams into my back.
All the breath whooshes out of me, and I stumble, tripping over my own feet, and landing flat on the ice with a loud oof.
My head rings. My wrist barks. My knees scream. Everything aches all at once.
And the next thing I know, my husband scoops me up and carries me off the ice.