Chapter Twenty-Four The Jersey
HADLEY
THE LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY BITCHES
Sutton: Just officially upgraded us all to first class. I refuse to fly commercial without complimentary champagne.
Grace: Sutton, you are an angel and a menace.
Stacey: First class?! Omg. I’m literally wearing sweatpants with a hole in the pocket. I was going comfy since it’s not my turn to travel with the team and I don’t have to wear damn khakis!
Skyler: It’s Boston, babe. The sweatpants are fine. Just put a designer bag over the hole.
Rylee: Are we doing team colors or are we doing cute cute for the game? Because I bought a custom jersey, and I need to know the vibe.
Sutton: We are doing both. Obviously.
Rylee: And we’re sure the guys don’t know we’re coming? No one squealed?
Sutton: I didn’t say a word to Jayce.
Skyler: My lips have been sealed!
Stacey: Same!
Grace: I haven’t let anything slip. Hadley, you packed yet? The car is on its way!
Hadley: Almost! Just trying to shove three different pairs of boots into one carry-on.
The girls think I’m just tagging along for the ride, supporting the team for the first big away game of the season, but I have an ulterior motive.
I'm really, really itching to break through Julian's armor. I’ve been chipping away at it, and the night he spent over at my place a week ago made some big cracks, I think. I don’t want to lose momentum.
That’s the thing about Julian. As effortless and charming as he is, spending this much time with him has forced me to pick up on just how guarded he really is. He doesn’t share himself easily, and the fact that he’s opened up to me at all feels significant.
I can still hear the terrifying, choked scream that ripped from his throat when he woke from his nightmare.
I remember the agony in his eyes before he abruptly got up and walked out into the dark.
The sheer worry has been eating me alive since.
My mind has been spinning over what could have possibly caused a man that powerful to wake up in such terror.
Then, there was his confession that he can’t just be friends with me. I’m still not sure what to do with that, but deep down, I’m not sure we can just be friends either.
I want to be something more.
He’s tried to pull away from me over the last week.
He isn’t texting me nearly as often, and we haven’t seen each other in person.
I refuse to let him run from me. Every time his texts went cold, I initiated more.
I flooded his phone with reminders that I was still right here, whether he liked it or not.
I grab my suitcase, zip it shut with a sharp, decisive yank, and sling my bag over my shoulder. Time to show Julian that he can’t shake me so easily, and that I’m there for him, whether it’s cheering for him in the stands, or being the shoulder he can lean on when he’s in pain.
When the girls and I arrive in Boston, more cars are waiting for us at the airport to take us to the stadium.
The biting October wind cuts straight through my jacket, a sharp reminder that autumn in Boston doesn't mess around.
I glance around at our group. We’re a vibrant blur of deep blue and bright gold.
Sutton is wearing her oversized jersey over sleek leather leggings and a pair of killer designer boots.
Grace has her jersey half-tucked into high-waisted jeans, her work camera bag slung over her shoulder, while Stacey has hers pulled over a thick hoodie.
Rylee is glowing in her brand-new jersey with shiny gold accents, while Skyler has her blue jersey styled with a matching Night Hawks beanie and baggy jeans.
“All right, ladies!” Grace exclaims once we get there and are gathered outside the stadium entrance. “Tickets are on my phone, so stay close!”
We make our way inside, stepping into the climate-controlled warmth of the arena, and head straight for the security lines. The process is pretty seamless as we pass through the VIP entrance, the hook-up thanks to Grace’s connections.
As the dedicated social media manager of several Night Hawks, including her brother and husband, Grace practically holds the keys to the kingdom.
She spends her weeks capturing the chaotic, high-stakes lives of the team's core lineup, and because of her, the arena staff moves us through the ropes as we belong here, bypassing the massive queues of fans spilling out into the concourse.
The moment we break past the turnstiles, the familiar, sharp scent of stadium popcorn and ice hits me.
My heart is racing with a chaotic mix of excitement and nerves, the thrumming energy of the crowd vibrating right through the floorboards.
I follow the flow of the group toward the tunnel leading to the rink, my pulse spiking with every step.
My phone buzzes again. I grab it, thinking it might be Julian, but frown when I see it’s a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: Check the side hallway by section 104.
I blink.
What?
Before I can respond, another message comes through.
Unknown: Trust me.
I glance around, confused. Who could this be? How do they know I’m here? Even if this is definitely how a true crime podcast might start, curiosity gets the better of me. I touch Grace’s arm, getting her attention.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her.
She furrows her brow in concern. “Where are you going?”
“Uh…the bathroom.” Pretty sure she’d refuse to let me go if she knew I was meeting a mysterious stranger who somehow knows my number.
Grace pulls up her phone, her thumb flying across the screen for a quick second before she looks back up at me with a grin and a nod. “Okay, I just texted you your digital ticket and our exact section and seat numbers so you don't get turned around. Don’t get lost in the crowd!”
“I won’t,” I promise, giving her a reassuring smile.
My phone chimes with the incoming text from Grace, and I quickly pocket it. Turning away from the bright, open bowl of the arena, I take a deep breath and push my way back against the flow of the crowd, heading down the concrete corridor toward the underbelly of the stadium.
I follow the signs toward section 104. The hallway is quieter here, tucked out of the way from the main flow of people.
Oh, shit. Am I going to be on Dateline after all?
“Hadley.”
Startled, I turn.
Theo steps out from a side door, grinning.
He’s already in his full game gear minus the helmet, looking twice as broad and imposing as usual under the heavy shoulder pads and the team's dark blue away jersey.
He carries the casual, high-energy confidence of someone who is in his element before a big game.
He balances his hockey stick easily in one hand.
The heavy tape on the blade rests against the concrete floor.
Relief rushes through me, but also confusion. “Theo? What are you…?”
“I overheard Grace back at the stadium in Denver making plans for you guys to come tonight, and I thought I’d get you a little something.”
He pulls something out from behind his back and holds it out to me. When I see what it is, my breath catches.
It’s a brand new blue jersey with gold stripes around the sleeves and across the middle, and Julian’s last name and number across the back: WILDER 18.
My jaw drops as I reach out and take it from him.
“Theo…”
“Figured you might want that,” he chuckles, giving me a wink.
I look up at him with a baffled smile. “How did you even manage to get this? And why did you get it for me?”
“How? Please, I have my ways. Let’s just say I know a guy who knows the guy in charge of the equipment room, and a few favors were traded.” He gives me a wink. “I figured all the other girls would be wearing their men's jerseys. Thought you should have one too.”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck.
“I…I don’t know if I should,” I murmur, even as I clutch the jersey tighter. “People might assume…”
“You absolutely should,” he insists. “Trust me.”
I hesitate a moment more before I give in with a nod. Honestly, the thought of wearing Julian’s jersey feels so right. I don’t want to deny myself in this instance.
“Okay,” I murmur. “Thank you.”
Theo’s grin widens. “Good! I’ll pretend I had nothing to do with it.”
“You didn’t,” I agree with a laugh.
He slips back through the door, leaving me alone. I quickly slip the jersey on before making my way back to my seat. The jersey is big on me, but I don’t care. I wear it with my chin raised, a little extra pep in my step.
Grace spots me first when I rejoin the girls.
“Oh my!” She looks me up and down with a grin. “So that’s where you went.”
I smile, my cheeks heating. “Is it okay?”
“You look cute as fuck!” Skyler exclaims.
Rylee arches a brow and gives me a knowing smile. “Wilder is going to love having his own personal fangirl.”
“Yes, he is,” Sutton agrees with a mischievous glint in her honey-brown eyes.
I laugh and shake my head. “You guys, it’s just a jersey! I’m just showing support for my friend.”
“Oh, sure,” Stacey nods and smirks. “We can go with that.”
I roll my eyes and drop into my seat, but there’s a part of me that’s a little thrilled by their teasing. None of them seem bothered by the thought of Julian and me being…close.
I look down at the jersey, smoothing my hands over the fabric. A small smile touches my lips. It feels right to wear it and show off exactly whose side I’m on. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude toward Theo for getting it for me.
The heavy double doors swing open, and the coaching staff files out onto the bench. Grandpa steps out first, looking imposing and razor-sharp in his tailored charcoal suit and a slate-blue tie that perfectly matches the team colors. His gaze lands on me, brows lifting in surprise.
“Hadley? What are you doing here?”
Shit. How could I have been so stupid? My entire body freezes as the reality of our seats sinks in. We are sitting directly behind the Night Hawks’ bench. I can’t let on that this jersey means something more to me than team spirit.
Playing it cool, I grin and wave. “We came to surprise you and the guys! We couldn’t miss the first game!”
He gives me a wide smile, but then he appears to notice my jersey and furrows his brow in confusion.
“That’s Wilder’s number,” he declares with a furrowed brow.
“Good observation,” I reply with a chuckle. “I’m just showing team spirit.”
“Mm,” he grumbles. “Next time, I’ll give you mine.”
I give him a smile and a nervous laugh. “Sure, Grandpa. I’d like that.”
He squints at me for another moment before turning to focus on his pregame prep.
I let out a sigh of relief. That was close.
The sudden, deafening roar of the crowd rattles the glass right in front of us.
The energy is electric, buzzing through the arena like a live wire.
All around us, the stands are a clashing sea of colors.
The fierce crimson and gold of the Boston Kingsmen cut through the wave of the Night Hawks’ navy blue and gold.
A few minutes later, the team comes flowing out of the tunnel.
I scan the group for Julian, and when I finally find him, he’s already looking up at me.
When our gazes meet, everything else seems to fade for a second, and it’s just him, staring at me.
He freezes, his eyes wide and stunned, clearly surprised to see me here, just like the rest of the guys, who are already grinning, looking up, and waving at their girls in our row.
For a split second, the weight in my chest lifts, thinking he’s just happy I made the trip.
Then his gaze drops to my chest, and his entire face shifts.
The momentary softening vanishes, replaced instantly by a dark, rigid tension as his jaw tightens so hard a muscle leaps in his cheek. He looks almost furious.
Confused by his sudden change in expression, I turn sideways, pointing an anxious hand toward the gold block lettering across my shoulder blades to show him it's his. Wilder.
Julian’s entire face lights up. A slow, breathtaking smile spreads across his lips…one I’ve never seen him give anyone else. I smile back, and his returning gaze is so intense that a strange jolt of heat shoots straight to my core.
My breath catches. I don’t understand the warm, heavy feeling pooling in my stomach, or why my chest suddenly feels so tight, but I can’t look away. I’m paralyzed by the way he’s looking at me.
It’s only when he finally skates into line with the rest of the team that I can breathe again, my face burning as I sink back into my seat, my heart hammering a chaotic rhythm against my ribs.
As the team finishes their initial laps around the ice, the blaring arena music transitions into a heavy, rhythmic bass line. The Night Hawks head toward our section of the glass, dropping down onto the ice to begin their pre-game stretches.
Because the universe has decided to test my sanity tonight, Julian skates right up to our exact spot.
He moves backward, stopping just inches from the partition, and drops into a deep side-lunge.
He plants his blades, and then he begins to work his hip flexors, his massive hips driving forward and down in a slow, rhythmic pulsing motion that looks entirely too explicit for a crowded arena.
He is practically humping the ice right in front of my face.
Up close, it’s overwhelming. He is so near I can hear the sharp, metallic scrape of his blades digging into the ice with every heavy thrust of his weight.
His massive, six-foot-four frame is bent right in front of me, his long, dark curly hair peeking out from under his helmet, already damp with early sweat.
I swallow, heat blooming low in my belly. He’s more flexible than I would’ve guessed…and as his hips sink lower, driving down again and again, I become painfully aware of how tight his hockey pants stretch across his ass.
Beside me, a collective, low murmur ripples through our row.
“Oh, my…” Skyler mutters under her breath, her eyes wide as she watches Carson.
“Right?” Rylee chimes in, leaning forward, gaze locked on Zander. “Best part of every single warmup.”
“Thank God we got us extra hotel rooms for this trip,” Sutton giggles as she drinks in Jayce. “Because after watching him do that, there is no way our men are sharing rooms tonight.”
I can feel Skyler and Grace nudging each other in agreement, but I can't look at them. I can barely breathe. My fingers grip the edge of my seat as Julian slowly winks at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips before he pushes off the ice and skates back toward the team.