Chapter 9
Arianna
“Oh, come on, Landon! How could you let him get the puck!” I yell, banging my hand against the glass that separates me from the ice.
Do I know that none of them can hear any of my commentary and that they’re not even thinking about what I have to say in this moment? Of course. But yelling at them makes me feel good and like I’m involved, so I will continue to do so.
“Yeah! Come on, Landon!” Harper yells, copying me by hitting her little fist carefully against the glass.
I laugh but make sure to shoot an apologetic smile over her head toward Stella. Luckily, she just shakes her head with a grin.
It didn’t take much to convince the two of them plus Lilly to watch the game from actual seats versus the suite.
Not that I have anything against sitting up there.
It’s fun, especially when these ladies make it to games.
But sometimes it feels more like a social club filled with gossip and drinking than a fun place to actually watch the game.
Don’t get me wrong, I am all for learning the latest tea. I might never contribute to it, but I love hearing all the juicy details about some of the players I don’t spend as much time with.
Even still, I would pick front row seats where the guys on the ice are constantly being hit into the glass and I can get a closer look at the plays over anywhere else.
It helps that I usually find seats either next to or behind the Bobcats bench.
So when Landon is fucking around and missing plays, I can be right there to remind him.
Again, not that he pays me any attention. Still, it makes me feel better.
The player from the opposing team who snatched the puck from Landon circles around the net, pausing to assess his options while the Bobcats make a line change.
Landon, Greyson, and Dominik all drop onto the bench to my left.
Harper squeals, jumping onto my lap to hit the glass in hopes of getting her father’s attention.
My stomach churns at the sudden movement, so I wrap my arms around her waist to steady her.
When Greyson turns to wave, Harper’s grin stretches wider than the Cheshire cat and she finally settles and sits in my lap.
While the other team brings the play closer to the Bobcats’ goal, my eyes flick to Dean.
It’s only been a few days since he accidentally fell asleep at my place and since then, I haven’t been sleeping well.
When he was there, I slept like a damn rock.
Ever since then, though, I can’t seem to get comfortable, and I refuse to admit that it has anything to do with not wanting to sleep alone.
Having a bed to myself is something I’ve loved my entire life.
I’ve always dreaded the idea of having to share it with someone one day.
Yet one night with Dean in my bed and my body seems to think he should be there every night in order for me to sleep.
It’s quite annoying.
Now Dean is laser focused on the play heading his way. He adjusts in front of the goal, sinking down slightly as the play gets closer. When the puck is passed between players, Dean doesn’t miss a beat. He slides to the right, blocking the shot that’s taken and hitting the puck away from the net.
Harper and I let out excited whoops while one of the newer Bobcats players intercepts the play and gets the puck back.
“We should probably go grab a bite to eat before the period is over and the lines get long,” Lilly says, pushing to her feet. I glance at the clock just below the jumbo screen and nod when I notice there are only five minutes left.
Stella stands too, holding a hand out for Harper, who shakes her head and clings to my arm.
“But the game is still going!”
“Yes, but you said you wanted chicken tenders and fries. If we don’t go now, you’ll have to wait in a really long line to get them,” Stella tells her with a level of patience that I admire.
“But what if they score and I miss it?” Harper’s bottom lip juts out into an adorable pout and it’s enough to win me over.
“How about this,” I say, hugging Harper with one arm while reaching for my wallet with my free hand. “Food is on me, but you guys have to go get it while we continue watching the game.”
“Yeah! Let’s do that, Mama!” Harper squeals, wiggling against my hold, and I finally have to let her go. I don’t know what’s made my stomach turn into knots, but holding a squirming child is not helping any. While she gets situated back in her seat, I offer Stella my card.
“Seriously, I can keep an eye on her.”
Stella hesitates only for a second before waving a hand in dismissal at my offered payment.
“Pretty sure you paid for last week’s meals, so this is on me. Cheesesteak and fries?” When I nod, she points a finger at Harper. “You be good for Arianna.”
“I always am,” Harper says at the same time I say, “She always is.”
Stella laughs before turning to follow Lilly.
Sure enough, with only twenty seconds left in the first period, within moments of hitting the ice after another line change, Greyson scores.
Harper and I both shoot out of our seats, high-fiving each other while jumping up and down in celebration.
As the guys on the ice line up for the final few seconds, Harper squeals about how she can’t wait to tell Stella about the goal Grey made.
I sit back down, laughing with her, and slowly sip on my water.
We watch the rest of the period, clapping when the buzzer goes off and the announcer shouts the score of three to one at the end of the first. Harper and I make predictions for what the second period will look like.
The kid might only be six, but she is picking up on this sport better than some grown adults do.
Stella and Lilly return a few minutes later with their arms full of food.
While Harper dives right in to eating her chicken tenders, she tells Stella and Lilly all about the goal they missed.
Literally, she gives them a play-by-play as if she’s an announcer herself and it makes all of us smile.
For as proud of my brother as I am when it comes to his hockey career, this kid might have me beat with her pride for her father’s game.
While she goes on about the game, pausing periodically to dance and sing whatever is playing overhead, I finally dig into my cheesesteak.
It’s one of my favorite things to get when coming to a game.
Or when going out anywhere, but the ones made here at SweetHeart Arena are my favorites.
There’s no doubt that I eat one every week during hockey season.
Except, when I take my first bite, ready to do my happy dance at the delicious taste, my stomach sinks.
I chew slowly, frowning at my food and trying to figure out what about it tastes off. Once I swallow, I take a sip of Coke and clear it from my mouth before going back for another bite.
Which is a mistake.
My stomach churns again, but this time, it doesn’t settle back down. I slap a hand over my mouth and shoot to my feet. It’s an effort to be polite as I slide from our row, and I’m pretty sure Stella and Lilly call after me, but I don’t pause.
The feeling in my gut rises, and I pick up my pace, rushing up the stairs and silently praying to whoever listens that I can make it to the bathroom. I love this arena, but sticking my face near any of these trash cans is not something I want to do.
Luckily, the closest women’s bathroom doesn’t have a line spilling out the door and I rush in just as a stall door opens.
What little control I had over my stomach chooses to finally slip just as I make it in front of the toilet.
I bend over, refusing to kneel on the public bathroom floor while losing those few bites of cheesesteak and more. And once I start, it doesn’t stop.
A hand on my back startles me, reminding me I didn’t lock the stall door in my rush, before Stella’s soothing voice hits my ears.
She offers gentle reassurances, rubbing in small circles with one hand while taking my ponytail in the other.
With my hands now free, I brace them on my thighs to help support my weight.
After a couple minutes, with Stella still comforting me, it finally stops. My stomach twists and turns, making me move slowly as I stand.
“Are you okay?” Stella asks, finally releasing my hair and giving me as much space as she can in the tight confines of the bathroom stall.
I dip my head in a clipped nod, not wanting to move too quickly in fear of triggering my stomach to revolt against me again.
Stella eyes me warily before turning to unlock the stall door.
“I think I have some mouthwash in my purse.”
I groan, following her to the sinks, and wash my hands while she digs through her bag and hands me a travel-size bottle of mouthwash.
“I’m not even gonna ask why you have this with you because you’re a lifesaver.”
In the reflection in the mirror, Stella shrugs. “It’s part of being a mom. I accumulate things I don’t always need in my bag, but they come in handy when you least expect it.”
Nodding, I swish the mouthwash between my teeth before spitting it into the sink. When my stomach dips again, I place a hand over it and close my eyes.
“Do you think you’re coming down with something?” Stella asks and I mull it over for a moment.
Before coming to the game today, the only other place I’ve gone this week was to dinner with my parents last night. My mom did say that her nose was stuffy, but as far as I know, it never escalated to more than that.
“I must be.” I shake my head and finally open my eyes. “I might head home. For starters, puking in a public space is gross. Plus, if I am coming down with something, I don’t want to be around Harper more than I already have been. Shit. If she gets sick—”
Stella waves a hand in the air and cuts me off. “That kid brings home some new cold every other week from school. She’ll be fine. Do you want me to go grab your purse for you?”
Biting my lip, I nod. “I might wait here. In case I…” I motion back to the stalls.
“I can drive you home if you want.” She offers, but I shake my head again.
“I’ll be fine. Worse comes to worse, if I feel like I can’t make it home, I’ll go to my parents and crash in their guest room since they’re closer.”
“Okay. But you’re texting me the second you pull into your driveway.” She turns on her heel and heads toward the door. “Just give me two minutes.”
Stella disappears to get my purse for me, and I lean back against the sink and will my damn stomach to settle long enough for me to make it home.