Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
maya
My body vibrates against the plastic stadium seating as the first game of the playoff season begins.
My nerves have nothing to do with how the Bobcats will play.
I have no doubt they’ll kick ass. It’s because, in eighteen minutes and thirty-four seconds, it’ll be me on that ice instead of the players.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Kennedy asks for the tenth time since she showed up at my apartment to ride with me to the arena. “You have the coordination of a baby with vertigo and bruise like a ripe banana.”
My head spins just a little. “I’m absolutely not sure that this is a good idea.”
“Is it too late to back out? I feel like a sloppy blowjob could be just as effective. And possibly even more appreciated.”
The older couple in front of us turns around in abject horror, and I cover my face with my hands. But rather than sink into her seat with embarrassment, Kennedy tosses a handful of popcorn into her mouth and smiles daringly at them.
“You’ll be fine,” Sophie reassures me with a broad smile. “The ice won’t be as slippery after it gets chewed up by skates. Just walk like a penguin.”
Kennedy, who’s already focused on the game again, turns our way. “Isn’t the phrase walk like an Egyptian?”
Sophie sits straighter, making her plastic chair creak. “You don’t know the penguin song?”
Kennedy and I exchange a confused look. The penguin song? “Definitely not.”
“When things look kind of icy, and the path ahead is dicey,” she sings, “walk like a penguin. Keep your toes pointed straight, and short steps for your gait. Walk like a penguin.” Shaking out her arms, she goes on.
“Make sure your limbs are loose, so you don’t fall on your caboose… and walk like a penguin.”
For a moment, Kennedy and I look at her in stunned silence, but in perfect synchronicity, we burst into laughter. And not simple “ha ha, funny” laughter. No, it’s shoulder-shaking, uncontrollable, thigh-slapping laughter that continues until tears stream down our faces.
“Oh God, Sophie,” Kennedy gasps, swiping at her eyes. “Who taught you that?”
“I took skating lessons as a kid,” she huffs. “You’ll be thanking me when it stops you from falling on your butt.”
I bump my shoulder against hers. “You mean my caboose, right?”
She narrows her eyes at me, but when the crowd breaks into cheers, she whips around and scans the ice.
The Jumbotron lights up, and Berrett Scores flashes in capital letters. All around us, fans yell like their lives depend on it. I don’t know how athletes can play in such a noisy setting. My stage fright could never.
I force my body to face the ice so I don’t miss anything else and let myself get lost in the excitement of the game.
As expected, the Bobcats dominate the first period.
Whatever they ate for breakfast was clearly packed with a serving of kick-ass-and-take-names, because damn.
Even Logan is on his best behavior. Could be a tactic, and if so, it’s working.
Since the first puck drop, the opposing team has seemed confused by his lack of asinine comments and fighting.
A few minutes before the period ends, Sophie and Kennedy walk with me to the area behind the Bobcats’ goal. A group of young teenage boys are gathered nearby, roughhousing and laughing.
As I take them in, it dawns on me that they’re likely the other game contestants. “I think I’m the only one—”
“With tits?” Kennedy snorts. “I was thinking the same thing.”
I scan the space, desperately searching for an elderly lady or middle-aged man. “Are we in the right spot?”
“This is where Cameron said the intermission game contestants are supposed to gather.” Sophie takes in our surroundings and points at a woman wearing a Bobcats polo standing nearby. “But maybe we should ask someone.”
Awkwardly, I approach the woman, noting her clipboard and walkie-talkie. “Um, hi. Is this the right spot for the intermission game contestants? I wanted to make sure, because it looks like it’s just me and—”
“The Cubs.”
“The Cubs,” I repeat dumbly. “Uh…” I scratch at my jaw and glance back at my friends. “Who are the Cubs?”
Her lips stretch into a sympathetic smile. “A midget team in the Bobcats’ youth league. You must be Maya. We don’t usually pair individual fans with junior league players, but Cameron Davies specifically requested that you participate in the first game.”
Only because my dumb ass requested that so I wouldn’t have to wait two full periods before getting out on the ice. The anticipation alone would’ve killed me.
“A midget team?” Kennedy mumbles behind me.
“Registered teams play in different classifications,” Sophie explains, fighting back a laugh. “Sixteen years old and younger are considered midgets.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumble. I’m facing my biggest fear by playing a game against baby hockey players. Lovely. Talk about setting myself up for success.
The period ends with the Bobcats up by one, and the moment they leave the ice to do their team pep talks or whatever, the announcer’s voice booms over the loudspeaker.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he calls, making the whole arena rumble. “While the players cool off, we’re going to let things heat up out here on the ice with a game of musical chairs!”
My stomach drops. Oh, you’ve got to be motherfucking kidding me.
“Showtime, baby,” Kennedy sings as she rubs her hands together. “Break a leg.”
I shoot her a glare as a Bobcats employee herds me and the five Cubs onto the ice.
Though I’ll never admit it to her, Sophie’s catchy penguin song runs through my head, helping me stay on my feet.
I clench and unclench my fists as I go, my breaths quick and shallow.
The announcer’s voice fades into white noise as I focus on taking small stomp-like steps to the center of the rink.
The Bobcats’ mascot high-fives us as we form a circle around the chairs, the force of the greeting almost enough to send me toppling. Somehow, I stay upright and once again focus on breathing. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
As I chant the reminder, I scan the stands, taking in the thousands of people with their attention glued to the game.
Why the hell could anyone think that imagining a crowd of people in their underwear will help with stage fright?
The idea alone makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable, and with the fear already lodged in my chest, I don’t need another emotion to battle right now.
A rock song flows through the speakers to start the game, our cue to move, so with a steadying breath, I take a step forward.
Here goes nothing. Shoulders pulled back, I walk around the perimeter of the chair circle.
Scratch that; the other players walk. What I do is similar to how I’d walk if my tampon was at risk of falling out. It’s a half-waddle-half-hop situation.
With very careful, controlled steps, I make it a quarter of the way around before the Cubs player behind me power walks right on past. It’s a circle, so it’s not like he’s going to get to the finish line any quicker, but whatever.
To keep from being distracted, I focus on pacing myself, but just as I’ve found a rhythm, the music cuts off.
Naturally, I get nowhere close to finding an empty chair. Instead, I get knocked over by two Cubs as they wrestle for the seat closest to me. No penguin can help me as one of the boys throws his arm back and elbows me in the boob, knocking me off balance and straight onto my ass.
Okay. Fucking ow.
The plus side? I didn’t smack my head this time.
Though I can’t say this is any less embarrassing than my last fall on a frozen surface.
Flat on my back, I close my eyes and pray the ice will crack open and swallow me whole.
My face is so red I’m sure I look like fucking Elmo.
I think I’m officially done attempting to set foot on a hockey rink.
From now on, no matter what, I remain on non-icy surfaces.
I haven’t even considered how I might find my way to my feet when a comforting voice reassures me that he’s got me and hands slip under my arms and haul me up.
On instinct, I sink into the familiarity of Cole’s touch, focusing on that rather than the thousands of eyes no doubt trained on the spectacle.
Popcorn sales are going to skyrocket after that theatrical performance.
Cole’s hands lightly roam over my neck and arms, as if he’s looking for injuries. The joke’s on him, since the only thing hurt is my pride. When he’s satisfied I’m not about to bleed out, he rests his hands on my waist to steady me.
I clutch the front of his jersey with both hands, the material cool against my skin. “Hi.”
He grasps my shoulders and shakes me gently. “Christ, My. What are you doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Trying to be romantic,” I admit, nibbling on my lower lip. With him in skates, I have to tip my head way, way back to make eye contact. “Did it work?”
He rubs at the stubble on his chin, his dark eyes warm despite the cool air. “Baby, help me out here. I’m not sure what part of being knocked over by a tween during musical chairs is supposed to be romantic.”
Well, when he puts it that way…
Though the tween in question is wearing a jersey with his name on it, Cole hits him with a dangerous scowl. The kid’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back, as if realizing beating me to the chair may not have been in his best interest.
I tug on his jersey, forcing his attention back to me. When his eyes meet mine, it hits me square in the chest like Cupid’s arrow.
“I was taking a page out of one of my romance books,” I admit, ducking to hide behind the collar of my jacket. “The whole grand gesture thing. I’m sure you saw it when you were stalking my PagePulse.”
He chuckles, his eyes dancing. “This was definitely a grand gesture.”
Once I’ve confirmed that he’s got a good hold on me, I pop up on my toes and loop my arms around his neck, then tug his body tight against mine.
“Remember when we were at O’Leary’s and you were teasing me about not liking attention?
” I ask, my voice shaky and low. “And I said that the day I admit I’m in love with you is the same—”
“The same day you play one of the intermission games,” he finishes, his features softening at the memory. “Wait.” His grip on my hips tightens. “Does this mean…”
“I love you,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier. I think I’ve loved you since you bought that alien book. I was just scared. And honestly, I think I’ll always be scared because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and the thought of losing you physically hurts.”
With a long exhale, he brushes his thumb against my cheek. “You won’t lose me, baby. I’m right here.”
At any other time, a statement like that would make me melt into his arms. But I need to finish before I lose my nerve.
“I need you to know that I meant it when I told you how happy I am for you. The Devils have always been your dream, and I fully support you. If that means…” I clear my throat.
This part is tricky, because I’m working under the assumption that he’d want this, too.
“If it means moving to San Diego so I can be there for you, then that’s what I’ll do.
” My breath leaves me in a rush. “I don’t like the beach,” I add, “or the mountains, or, honestly, the outdoors in general. But surely there are good coffee shops and less active activities in the area. I can find a job in another bookstore and write from wherever. I have every intention of taking advantage of your miles, though, so that my family can visit. But—”
In a classic Cole move, he shuts me up with a kiss. His lips are warm and familiar and comforting as he softly licks at the seam of my mouth.
Without hesitation, I grant him access, and as our tongues glide against one another, a small moan from deep in his chest escapes.
I don’t know how long we kiss, but eventually, the raucous cheering from the crowd pops the bubble we’ve found ourselves in.
Cole places his hands on my cheeks and smiles against my mouth. “As honored as I am to know you’d move to San Diego with me, there’s no need. I turned down the trade. And before you panic, I made this decision for myself. It’s what I want.”
I open my mouth, ready to protest, but snap it shut again. Finally, I say, “But the Devils are your dream.”
“They were the dream Nathan and I shared.” He breaks into an earnest smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “But he’s not here anymore, and my dreams have shifted. There are all kinds of ways to honor him that don’t involve uprooting my life when my heart’s not in it.”
My body lights up with excitement, making me feel like I’m standing an inch off the ground. “Yeah?”
He gives a bashful shrug. “Yeah. Like falling in love, getting married, and eventually having a few kids who grow up begging to hear stories about how amazing their Uncle Nathan was.”
I know I’ve made the right decision when the word marriage doesn’t make me want to book the first flight to Spain and change my name.
I rake my fingers through the hair at his nape. “I like that idea.”
“You have no idea what you do to me, Maya,” he murmurs against my lips. “How consumed I am by you. How desperately in love with you I am.”
“If you think I don’t feel the same way about you, then you took a few too many hits to the head last period.
” I laugh, leaning against him. “For the first time in my life, I don’t want to disappear into my books so I can live another person’s love story.
Because you’re not only who I want, but who I need. ”
Cole picks me up by the waist and twirls me around. “You’re stuck with me now, baby. I’m your happily ever after.”
Face heating in the best way, I can’t help but smile. He’s only partially right. “You’re my happily ever always.”