13. Hendrix
HENDRIX
I can't focus on the game. Not with Colette sitting two seats away, practically vibrating with excitement as she chats with Maggie and Emily. The three of them hit it off immediately - of course they did. Her cheeks are flushed from the excitement - or maybe it's from Maggie's non-stop commentary.
"And that's why we call him 'Hot Hands Henderson,'" Maggie waves her arms, nearly spilling her drink.
The women burst into laughter, and Colette's practically glowing.
"Men," Emily rolls her eyes. "Imagine the looks on their faces when they realize I'm the only female Zamboni driver in the league."
"You drive the Zamboni?" Colette's eyes light up. "That's so cool!"
“I’ve cut back my hours lately,” Emily says. “But I do love being out there.”
I try to focus on the game - there's a power play happening and I should be studying the Titans' formation - but Colette's perfume keeps distracting me. Something light and wintery, like snow and vanilla.
Kevin Tate’s wife, Leigh, slides into the seat next to me with a toddler on her hip. "Your girl's fitting right in."
"She's not my-" I start to protest, but Leigh just gives me a knowing look.
Colette laughs at something Maggie just whispered in her ear. Leigh waves over one of the servers. "Get Miss McAllister another glass of champagne. We need to properly welcome her to the hockey WAGs club."
"Oh, I'm not—" Colette's cheeks flush pink. "Hendrix and I aren't?—"
“Who said anything about Hendrix?” Maggie waves her hand dismissively. "You're one of us now, honey."
Fantastic. Why am I even here? Other than Leigh’s squirming toddler, I’m the only guy among all these women, and not in a fun way.
Besides, the only woman I care about right now is Colette.
I can't take my eyes off her. Every time she laughs at one of Maggie's outrageous stories, how she cheers at the wrong times, or when she gets that adorable scrunch of her nose, I find myself grinning like an idiot.
The Knights are up 3-1 but I've barely registered a single play. The box seats give us a bird’s eye view of the ice, but I keep stealing glances at Colette instead of watching Liam crush my teammates into the boards.
Colette's hair falls across her shoulder when she leans forward to get a better view.
"Your brother's really good," she says softly.
"Yeah." I clear my throat, suddenly salty that she’s watching my brother. The thought makes my stomach twist. "He is."
The second period's winding down, and I'm still trying to figure out if this counts as a date, but does sitting in a box full of hockey wives while watching my brother demolish my team qualify?
We drove here together, we're sitting next to each other - sort of.
There's champagne involved. But she thinks she's here because of.
.. actually, I have no idea why she agreed to come.
Gran and Aunt Goldie must have promised her something big - maybe lifetime immunity from their infamous neighborhood Christmas cookie bake-off? Those things are ruthless.
I pull out my phone and text Tucker.
Me: Does this count as a date?
His reply comes back instantly.
Tucker: Did YOU ask her out?
Me: No. But we're here together.
Tucker: Doesn't count, buddy.
"You must miss Toronto," Colette says for the third time in fifteen minutes. "Your condo, your routine, your... everything."
"Not really." I shrug. "Brookking's got its charms."
She frowns. "But surely you'd rather be here, in the city, closer to your friends and?—"
"And miss Grannie's Christmas block party?" I wink at her. "Never."
Her cheeks flush. “I’m just saying, with the season going the way it is, maybe you should just?—"
"Stay here?" I raise an eyebrow. "Why Miss McAllister, are you trying to get rid of me?"
But she turns her attention to the ice as the crowd gasps.
"Oh!" Colette jumps up as Liam body-checks Diggory King, the second-line forward filling in my position. The puck slides free, and before anyone can blink, the Knights have control again.
“Dang, your brother’s positively barbaric.” Emily whistles. "Any chance you can convince him to trade to the Titans?"
I sink lower in my seat. "He's not usually this... aggressive."
Liam has always been methodical, effective, brutal even. But something’s triggering his combat mode tonight. Whatever it is, he wouldn’t tell me anyway.
He intercepts another pass, and with one fluid motion sends the puck sailing down the ice to his forward. The crowd collectively groans as the Knights transition into offense so smoothly it's like they're dancing. Another shot, another goal.
"Four-one," Leigh sighs. "This is getting painful to watch."
I should be taking notes, studying the plays for when I get back on the ice. Instead, I'm watching Colette lean forward in her seat, completely absorbed in the game.
"Oh! That was amazing!" Colette says, and there's that twist in my gut again. "Liam makes it look so easy."
"Yeah," I mutter. "He's always made everything look easy."
"You okay there, superstar?" Emily nudges me with her elbow. "Looking a little green."
"I'm fine," I mutter, but I'm not. I'm sitting here watching my brother show off while the girl I like cheers him on.
My phone buzzes with another text.
Tucker: Ask her to dinner after. THAT could count.
I lean back in my seat, trying to sort out this mess in my head. Maggie catches my eye and mouths, "You're pathetic" with a smirk.
"Here comes the Kiss Cam!" Leigh announces, and Colette practically jumps out of her seat.
"Nachos anyone?" She stands abruptly, catching her heel on something practically landing in my lap.
"Well," I smirk, "if you wanted to kiss me that badly..."
She scrambles off my lap, face burning red, and practically sprints for the buffet in the back of the room.
Maggie’s laughing her head off, shuffling over to join Colette at the table. “The kiss cam selects couples from the crowd, not from the box seats.
After the game wraps up - a brutal 5-2 loss for the Titans - we're all hanging around the box suite. I'm trying not to sulk about how many times Colette praised Liam's playing, when Emily's voice cuts through my brooding.
"You're not seriously planning to drive back tonight?" Emily asks Colette. "It's late, and the roads are icy."
"Oh." Colette fidgets with her purse strap. "I'll find a hotel."
"Nonsense!" Maggie throws an arm around her shoulders. "Stay with me! We'll have a girls' night, face masks, wine?—"
"And Otto squawking 'Sweet Caroline' at 3 AM," Emily cuts in with a smirk.
"Otto only does that when he's feeling festive," Maggie protests.
"Which is always," Emily counters.
Colette's eyes widen. "You have a parrot?"
"The most opinionated parrot in Toronto," Emily says.
"Otto is a delight!" Maggie protests.
"Otto mimics police sirens," Emily deadpans. "And fire alarms. And that one time he learned how to perfectly recreate the sound of someone throwing up..."
Maggie giggles. “That was gross and brilliant.”
"Stay with me instead,” Emily says to Colette. “My guest room is bird-free, and I make killer breakfast waffles."
"I—" Colette glances my way, then quickly looks away. "That's really kind of you both, but?—"
"Perfect!" Emily claps her hands. "It's settled. You're staying with me."
I open my mouth to suggest my condo, but quickly snap it shut. That would probably come across as creepy, right? Besides, Colette would probably rather sleep in her car than accept my offer.
The box suite clears out as everyone heads down to meet the players.
Emily turns back at the door. "Meet me at the player's parking lot exit in about thirty minutes? I'll text you directions to my place."
"Perfect." Colette nods. "I'll drop off Hendrix first."
I'm trying not to feel hurt by how quickly Colette agreed to Emily's offer of a place to stay. Though I’m glad she isn’t insisting on going home tonight. Tomorrow we can take our time heading back to Brookking Sound. Maybe get some breakfast together...
Once the women file out, I turn to Colette. "Want to meet the team? Maybe catch up with Liam before he heads out?"
Her whole face lights up. "Really? That would be amazing!"
Of course. Amazing. Because it's Liam.
There's that twisting feeling in my gut again. "Though fair warning - my teammates are probably not in the best mood after that loss."
"Oh." She bites her lip. "Will they mind visitors?"
"Nah, they love meeting new people. Especially pretty teachers who laugh at all their dumb jokes."
We follow the others down to ice level, where families are already gathering. Leigh's son tears across the corridor straight into Kevin's arms, while Maggie's practically climbing her husband like a tree.
I trail behind as Colette practically floats toward Liam, who's shouldering his gear bag by the locker room exit.
"Great game!" She tucks her hair behind her ear.
Liam grunts, barely glancing up.
"Yeah, nice win, bro." I pull Liam into a quick hug, complete with the mandatory back-slap.
"Thanks." Classic Liam - two words max, then retreat into his brooding cave.
Colette stands there, hands clasped, waiting for him to notice her. The awkward silence stretches as Colette shifts from foot to foot. I clear my throat. "That last period was brutal."
"Yeah." He straightens, giving me a tired nod. He's already distracted, checking his phone.
Colette's smile falters slightly. I jump in, "You remember Colette from high school, right? She was in my grade."
Liam looks up, squinting at her like she's a particularly confusing crossword puzzle. "Who?"
"Colette McAllister?" Her voice goes up at the end, hopeful.
Liam squints at her, clearly drawing a blank. "Sorry, lot of faces from back then."
"Oh." Colette's cheeks flush pink. "Well, thank you for the tickets. It was really nice of you to think of me."
Liam's frown deepens. "What tickets?"
"The... the box seats? You texted me about having extra tickets?"
"Why would I have box seats for an away game?" Liam shrugs. "And I definitely didn't text anyone."
Wait. What? I know for a fact Gran and Aunt Goldie arranged this whole thing, but pretending to text from Liam’s number is pretty out there even for them. Gran still types with one finger and calls emojis "those little yellow faces."
So why does Colette think...
The temperature in the hallway seems to drop ten degrees as Colette turns to me, the hurt evident on her face before it hardens into something else. Her eyes blaze. If looks could kill, I'd be a pile of ash on the floor.
"You." The word comes out like a curse. "You set this up?"
"I didn't?—"
"I should go find Emily," she says through clenched teeth.
"Colette, wait." But she's already storming off down the corridor.
Liam gives me an apathetic look. "What was that about?"
"I have no idea." But I do, and it's got Grannie Bell and Auntie Marigold written all over it. But somehow, this is absolutely going to be my fault.