27. Bridget
Bridget
“I’m bored,” Crew whined, stomping his foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “I can’t play hockey, I can’t watch hockey. Hell, I can’t even pass the time by scrolling reels on my phone.”
He’d gotten increasingly more irritable after Cole and the team had left for a road trip without him.
“How about we play another game?” I suggested.
“I’m sick of games,” he huffed, pushing his lower lip out in a pout.
I bit back a smile. “You mean you’re sick of me beating you.”
“Same difference.”
“Okay, let me see what I can do.”
Grabbing my cell, I pulled up a familiar text thread and began typing.
Do your teenagers have any interest in having a playdate with the man-child I’m currently babysitting? Please, please, please say yes. *Praying hands emoji*
Arizona: If it were any other time, they’d be more than happy to entertain him for a few hours, but we’re packing up to spend the weekend in Phoenix for a hockey tournament.
Darn. Thanks anyway, and tell Austin to score all the goals!
“What’s that face for?”
My head lifted at the sound of Crew’s voice. “What face?”
“The one where you look like someone told you Santa Claus isn’t real.”
I mustered up the strength to give him a fake toothy smile. “Better?”
He grimaced. “Not really. Now you look borderline unhinged, tiptoeing on serial killer territory.”
With a sigh, I confessed, “It’s nothing. I was just texting Arizona to see if we could pop over to spend time with the kids, but I guess they’re about to leave for a hockey tournament in Phoenix.”
Crew perked up immediately. “We should go!”
I blinked at him. “Go where?”
“To the hockey tournament. Duh,” he said as if it should be obvious.
“You’re joking, right? We can’t just go to Phoenix,” I protested.
“Why not? We’re grown-ups now, Bridge. We can go anywhere we want, whenever we want.”
I mean, technically, he had a point.
“Come on,” Crew cajoled. “Tell me a change of scenery doesn’t sound nice.”
It was like he knew exactly how to play me. I’d made it no secret that I was growing weary of my self-imposed house arrest.
There was a certain appeal to getting out of town.
Most notably, having the freedom to walk around in broad daylight without the fear of Aiden finding me—his reach not extending beyond the San Diego city limits.
Combine that with the nostalgia of a childhood spent tagging along with Bennett and the Astor twins as they played tournaments all over the southwestern United States, and I was suddenly leaning into the insanity of asking Arizona if we could crash their tourney weekend.
“All right, let me see if Arizona minds if we come along.”
Crew visibly vibrated with excitement.
“Road trip!”
Our decision made, Crew walked to his house to pack while I did the same at Cole’s. By the time he returned, he’d taken care of the hotel arrangements and was ready to hit the road.
Eyeing my duffel bag, he asked, “Did you remember to pack a sweatshirt? Because it gets nipply at night in the desert.”
“Nippy,” I corrected.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
No, it certainly was not, but I wasn’t about to dive headfirst into a conversation about cold weather and what it does to nipples with my boyfriend’s twin brother.
“But to answer your question, yes, I have a sweatshirt in my bag.” We were going to be spending an awful lot of time inside of ice rinks this weekend, so that would be a no-brainer, regardless of our destination.
Striding to the hall closet, I grabbed the oversized black hoodie I’d worn when I escaped Aiden’s house off a hanger, and pulled it on, positioning the hood over my head to create shadows on my face that would hopefully obscure it from the CCTV cameras—it had worked so far in my trips back and forth to spend time at Arizona’s place, so I had no reason to believe it would fail me now.
Crew took in my appearance and let out a whistle. “Oh, so we’re going out in incognito mode. Got it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Get in the car.”
He gave me a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am!”
Five and a half hours in tight quarters with this man was going to test my patience. Of that, I had no doubt.
With the familiar sights and sounds of a hockey rink surrounding me, I sucked in a lungful of the icy air.
All my favorite memories could be tied to one arena or another, while watching my brother, Cole, and Crew play.
And damn, if it didn’t feel good to be back in what had once been my happy place.
We’d arrived in Phoenix just in time for Austin’s first game of the weekend, finding a seat in the stands as the team finished warm-ups.
When I noticed Arizona sitting alone, I asked, “Where’s Maisie?”
The woman who’d quickly become my closest friend smiled at the mention of her stepdaughter.
She jerked her chin toward the top corner of the bleachers.
“Hanging with the other hockey sisters. Most of them are younger, but she’ll happily spend the next eighty minutes making friendship bracelets and recording dance videos to post online. ”
“Ah.” I returned my attention to the ice. “So what number is Austin?”
“Nine. Same as Levi,” Crew answered.
I scanned the jerseys until I found him, seated on the bench, as the teams lined up for the opening face-off. “Got it.”
The puck was dropped and, just like I remembered from over a decade ago, the parents got rowdy in the stands—screaming instructions to their kids, cheering a good pass or hit, and yelling at the refs when they made a call they disagreed with.
Austin hopped the boards for his first shift of the game, and I watched him with an eagle eye, analyzing his skating, puck-handling, and decision-making.
“He’s good,” I remarked. “Right around the middle of the pack, which leaves room for growth.”
Crew hummed his agreement. “Can you believe this is his first season?”
Rearing back in surprise, I saw the fifteen-year-old through a different lens. “Kid’s a natural.”
Arizona laughed. “You sound exactly like Levi.”
“Who better than a professional to spot talent?” I tossed back.
“Fair.”
“Levi made the right decision finding him a spot on a travel team,” Crew said. “He needed the challenge.”
“As much as it sucks dragging the kids all over God’s creation on my own, I have to agree,” Arizona replied.
Austin made a great heads-up pass to his winger through the neutral zone, and I yelled my approval, shifting to the edge of my seat as he and his teammates cycled the puck expertly, taking quality shots on their opponent’s goalie.
One of them bounced off the blocker, and Austin was perfectly placed to cash in on the juicy rebound.
A quick flick of his wrist, and the puck went sailing into the net.
I was on my feet in a flash, bringing two fingers to my mouth for an ear-splitting wolf-whistle, while watching Austin celebrate before skating to the bench for fist bumps.
My heart was still racing a million miles an hour when I sat back down, and I fanned my face, suddenly overheated from the rush of adrenaline.
“Whoo, that was awesome,” I breathed out.
“Yeah.” Parental pride shone in Arizona’s blue eyes.
Things settled down again; the teams were so evenly matched that scoring opportunities were few and far between.
Crew leaned back to speak to Arizona. “So, is it generally frowned upon to hook up with single moms at these things?”
“Crew!” I hissed, horrified, slapping his knee.
Undeterred, he kept going, “Because there’s a hot little redhead down front who keeps eyeing me like she wants to sink her teeth into me, and I’m inclined to let her.”
Arizona’s lashes lowered to fan her cheeks, and she pulled in a centering breath, saying on the exhale, “Unless you’re ready to step in and become one of these boys’ new stepdaddy, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself this weekend.”
He pouted, grumbling, “Jagger would let me do it.”
“Jagger’s an idiot,” she retorted. “It’s a bad idea. Don’t do it.”
Releasing a beleaguering sigh, Crew said, “Fine. I’ll keep it in my pants. But let the record show I’m not happy about it. It’s been a while since I got any action, and I’m worried that it’s true what they say about losing it if you don’t use it.”
Arizona palmed her face and groaned. “Oh my God. Is it too much to ask to watch a hockey game in peace?”
I nudged Crew with an elbow. “Shut your trap before she starts to regret letting us tag along.”
“All right, I’ll be as silent as a church mouse.” He mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.
Climbing up a row, I sat down beside Arizona and whispered, “I give it five minutes. The man loves the sound of his voice too much to stay quiet for long.”
Her laughter had Crew whipping around, a finger pressed to his lips with a “Shh!”
Leaning on each other for support, we dissolved in a fit of giggles at the ridiculousness of the most unserious guy we knew trying to act stern.
Yeah, this weekend away was exactly what I’d needed.
With a win in the books, everyone headed back to the hotel for some rest and relaxation. The kids—players and siblings alike—took over the indoor pool, while the parents migrated to the outdoor patio, cracking open coolers brought from home as they sat around several gas fire pits.
“Beer?” Crew brought a glass bottle into view.
“Sure.” I accepted it gratefully, popped the cap, and took a sip. Turning to Arizona, I asked, “Do you want one?”
She held up a hand. “Thanks, but I can’t.”
The can’t stuck out to me, and I leaned in to whisper-hiss, “Oh my God, are you pregnant?”
“That ship sailed a long time ago.” Arizona shook her head with a laugh before explaining, “I’m ten years sober.”
“Congrats. That’s a hell of an accomplishment.”
Smiling shyly, she ducked her head. “Thanks.”
I swished the liquid in my bottle. “Are you okay with us drinking in front of you?”
“It’s fine. Any time I get the craving, all I have to do is remind myself of what I have to lose if I fall off the wagon, and that usually sends it packing.” She tapped her temple. “Mind over matter.”
“You’re kinda badass, you know that?”
Snorting, she hummed. “Glad to hear someone thinks so.”
Cast in shades of orange and gold from the flickering flames, Arizona took the time to introduce me to the other parents.
Everyone was beyond welcoming, which was indicative of the hockey community.
Sharing that one thing in common created a found family, one I’d missed desperately since Bennett’s death, one I could settle into again by virtue of my relationship with Cole.
Being out in the open felt good. Better than good; it felt fucking liberating.
And when we got home, I was going to do whatever was necessary to take back my life in San Diego.