11. Hadley
Hadley
“So,” Paige says, leaning forward, her elbows on the table. She looks like she’s interrogating a criminal, not sitting across from her best friend. “What happened?” Her eyes search my face, probably cataloging every minute detail of my reaction.
“Not even going to pretend to wait for our food, huh?” I ask.
“Nope!” she says, popping the p. “Talk now. Eat later.” She smirks. “This is more important than cheeseburgers.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “You’re a menace. You know that?”
She grins. “I’m your favorite menace. Now, spill.”
I sigh and pick at the napkin in front of me, tearing it into small pieces while I think. “He apologized,” I say. “Said he wasn’t trying to keep anything from me. He just wanted more time to get to know me without hockey getting in the way.”
“That makes sense,” Paige says, nodding her head.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“So, how did it feel? Being around him after finding out he’s a major pro hockey player?” She laughs. “I still can’t believe I didn’t put it together.”
“I don’t know. Different at first. Like I was meeting him again for the first time.”
“I can see that. I bet it was awkward.” She grimaces.
“It was in the beginning, but after a few minutes…” I pause searching for the words. “It felt like he was just Bryce again. You know?”
She grins. “That’s good, right?”
I nod and blow out a breath. “I mean, yeah. But also, no?”
“Yeah, you’re gonna need to explain that one.”
“I just… Why even do this? He lives in Denver. I doubt that will be changing anytime soon. He travels for games and stuff, right?” I ask, needing confirmation since I’ve never followed pro sports before.
Paige nods. “Yeah, some. For games and stuff.”
“See? My life is here. His life is in the public eye. And mine… isn’t. It’s books, and quiet and…”
“You sound like you’re retired already,” Paige says, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.
“So?” I ask. “I like my life. Low risk. Minimal heartbreak. No public spectacles.” It’s worked out for me so far.
“Ah,” Paige says, pointing at me. “There it is.”
“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t go there.”
“You LIKE him!” She grins and wiggles in her seat.
I hold up my hands. “Yeah, as a friend, of course. He’s nice.”
She frowns. “No, you like him like him, and you’re doing that thing where you compartmentalize him before he gets too close.”
I shake my head and my mouth drops open. “I do not do that.”
She raises a perfectly plucked brow. “You sure? Because you did it with the last guy you went out with, too.”
I gape at her. “He was a junior politician. Our lives were going in two different directions. Besides, he was a self-absorbed…” I stop myself before saying something I’ll regret.
Paige nods. “Oh, I don’t disagree. He wasn’t the one for you, for sure. But that doesn’t mean you weren’t closing him out.”
The waitress saves me from having to answer, setting our plates down between us. Perfect timing.
“Cheeseburger with bacon for you,” she says, placing the plate in front of Paige, “and a cheeseburger with extra mayo for you. Can I get you anything else?”
“I think we’re good, thanks,” Paige says.
It smells so good. My mouth is already watering. I grab a fry and drag it through the ketchup.
“Is that the issue? Is Bryce self-absorbed? Only interested in himself? Doesn’t talk about anything but who’s who and his career? Because if so, I support cutting him out.” Paige makes a scissors motion with her hands, and I laugh.
“That’s the thing,” I say. “He’s not. He asks me about my day and actually listens. He makes me feel… seen. Like I can be myself around him. I can say the goofy thing, or get lost talking about a book, and he never makes me feel weird about it.”
Paige smiles and reaches for my hand, giving it a little squeeze. “That’s not nothing,” she says. “That’s a connection.”
“Yeah, but you know me. I can barely do relationships when the guy lives in the same city. There’s no way I’d be good at a long-distance one.”
“I think you’re overthinking this,” Paige says, taking a huge bite of her burger.
“Of course I am,” I reply. “Overthinking is my superpower. I should have a shirt made. I wonder what my slogan could be?”
Paige snorts. “Okay, let me ask you one thing.”
My mind comes back from the spiral of branding and logos and focuses on my best friend. “Okay…”
“When you’re with him, or talking to him, are you happy?”
“Yes,” I say, without hesitation.
“Maybe that’s enough for now. Maybe you just enjoy getting to know someone who sees you for who you really are, and take it one day at a time.”
I take a deep breath, counting to four before slowly releasing it. “I did say I’d give him a chance,” I admit.
“Why didn’t you lead with that?” Paige asks, practically shouting.
I wince. “Because I still haven’t decided if that was a good idea or not.”
Paige grins. “Oh, it absolutely was!” She stuffs the last of her burger in her mouth and waves the waitress over. “Check please,” she asks when the waitress gets to the table. “We have a game to attend.” She turns back to me. “Think he can introduce me to Colt?” She waggles her eyebrows hopefully.
“Paige!” I laugh and shake my head.
“Right, right, fine, it was worth a shot.”
Forty-five minutes later, we’re pushing our way through the crush of people toward our section. “I can’t believe it’s this crowded,” I say. Being here feels different now. Like I’m here for a reason other than being Paige’s plus-one. It’s… strange.
“It’s a huge deal,” Paige says, grinning. “It’s not every day our country turns 250 years old and there’s a hockey tournament to celebrate.”
“I guess,” I mutter. Just like last time, the noise is deafening. The smell of ice, sweat, and popcorn fills the air. Paige leads the way down the steps to our seats, and I find myself scanning the ice for Bryce.
“There,” she says, pointing to a group of guys stretching. “Isn’t that him? Number twenty-six?”
I blush. “Um, I think so?” He’s wearing the same blue jersey as last time, and he’s just as intimidating, too.
“So, I did some digging,” Paige says. “On your boyfriend.”
I glare at her.
“Too soon?” she asks, shrugging. “Okay, well, anyway. I looked him up, and Bryce is a defenseman. He usually plays on the left side with Xavier Schwann.”
I stare at her. “I have no idea what any of that means.”
She chuckles. “It means that he’s responsible for stopping the other team’s offense and protecting the goalie.”
“Uh huh,” I say, scanning the ice again. “So, why did he get slammed into the glass last time?”
“Um, because it’s hockey?” Paige says, and shrugs her shoulders. “It’s kind of part of the game.”
“Oh.” I frown. I’m not sure how I feel about him getting banged up.
Actually, yes I do. I hate it.
“Don’t worry,” Paige says, patting my shoulder. “At this level, they’re used to it.”
I’m not sure that’s better, actually. “So, these players?” I ask, looking at all the huge men on the ice. “They’re pretty good?”
Paige laughs, a full belly laugh, complete with tears. “They are the best of the best.”
My stomach takes flight before plummeting to my shoes. That means Bryce is a big deal. He probably gets photographed a lot. Do paparazzi follow him like a celebrity? Do they do that to hockey players?
“You’re overthinking again,” Paige says. “Just try to relax and enjoy the game.”
The game starts, and I get lost watching the puck fly around the ice. These guys skate so fast it’s nearly impossible to keep track of who is where.
“Come on!” Paige screams. “That wasn’t hooking!” She’s on her feet yelling at the umpire? Ref? Whatever you call him.
“Hooking?” I ask when she sits back down after Brewer heads to the time out bench. At least, that’s what it looks like to me.
“Yeah, now the Stripes get a power play.” She huffs.
I nod. “That’s bad?”
She leans forward, her head almost pressed against the glass. “It’s not good.”
I watch as players in red jerseys pass the puck around skating toward the net at the end.
“Phew,” Paige says when Brewer comes back on the ice. “That was close.”
This game is intense. Paige keeps yelling at people, the puck is flying around, players are slapping sticks around. I’m totally enraptured, and even if I don’t understand what’s going on, the energy is palpable.
“There’s Bryce,” Paige says. “He’s in scoring position!”
I hold my breath as he swings his stick and sends the puck across the ice toward the net. It goes wide, missing the net.
Paige curses under her breath. “Good save, Davis,” she mumbles.
“Why do they keep getting sent to timeout?” I shout over the noise when two men, Leinecker and Houlihan, skate over to the timeout boxes.
The man behind me chuckles. “That’s the penalty box, hon,” he says.
Paige giggles. “It is kind of like a timeout, though.”
The third period starts, and the action is crazy. When the puck sails into the net on the East side, I can’t help but jump up. “Touchdown,” I shout, pumping my fist in the air.
The people around me laugh.
“Wrong sport?” I ask, glancing around.
Paige shakes her head, laughing. “I don’t know what’s more entertaining, you or the game.”
I shrug it off even though I can feel my face turning red.
“It’s a goal,” Paige says, still laughing. “But I love the energy!”
It’s a nail-biter of a game, but in the end, the Stripes win this one. “Bummer,” I say. My eyes scan the ice until they lock on Bryce.
He looks… sad.
I guess that makes sense. His team just lost.
His eyes meet mine and he skates over. He stops just in front of the glass and mouths, “Wait for me?”
My heart leaps in my chest, and I nod. “Okay.”
Paige squeals. “This is so exciting!”
We watch as the West team files off the ice and into what I’m assuming is the locker room. The East players grin and celebrate and tap each other on the shoulders and heads, then the three stars of the game are announced.
“Come on,” Paige says. “Let’s go check out the shop now that it’s starting to clear out.”
I nod, and follow her up the steps and into an area set up with fan gear. Stars and Stripes merch is everywhere. Jerseys, t-shirts, lanyards, pucks, foam fingers. You name it, and it’s on a shelf or hanging on a rack.
I follow behind Paige as she looks at everything, taking her time to examine each item.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Bryce.
Bryce: I shouldn’t be too much longer. They don’t need me for the media tonight. I’ll text you when I’m out? We can meet by the main entrance?
I type a quick message back letting him know we’ll be there, and turn my attention to Paige who has her hands full of stuff.
“Seriously?” I ask, laughing at the hockey-jersey-wearing Uncle Sam bubble wand she’s holding.
“I’m getting it for my nephew,” she says, grinning. “I think he’ll love it.”
“He’s not even walking yet,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but I can blow them and he can giggle.” She grins. “His belly laughs are the best.”
I can’t argue that. Baby belly laughs are cute. “Do you think I should get something for Clara and Eloise?”
Paige grins and passes me two necklaces that have little stars and red and blue beads. “This is probably up their alley.”
I nod. “I doubt they’d say no to more jewelry.”
We make our way to the checkout and pay for our things.
“Where are we meeting Bryce? Do you think Colt will be with him?” Paige asks, passing me my bag.
“He said to meet him outside the main entrance. He didn’t mention Colt.” I shrug. “Maybe? They’re teammates, so maybe they all come out together?”
“The team has a special entrance where they probably have a bus waiting.” Paige grins and links her arm through mine. “Let’s go wait on your man.”
“My man,” I mutter under my breath.
That feels big.
It should scare me.
It doesn’t.