Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
FARRAH
I’m going to Bruce’s game tonight. And it feels weird.
All the girls are meeting at the arena, all of them wearing their WAG (wives and girlfriends) jackets. These jackets are the dream. They’re customized, blinged out, and completely fabulous. The wives and girlfriends go all out for the playoffs, sometimes they’ll have a different look for each playoff round. It’s my favorite part of the hockey season, seeing what all the girls wear to the playoff games. Silly I know, but it’s art. Like the icing on a cake…the WAG playoff jackets are that for me.
And I’ll be the only person without one…because Bruce isn’t my boyfriend, and because whatever we’re doing is a secret. But suddenly I want to tell everyone so I can snag one of those jackets.
Amber has a sitter for Nella, a sweet teen who lives down the street, since the game will run late. Especially if it goes into overtime, which playoff games tend to do. That’s what happens when the teams are so equally matched.
I study myself in the bathroom mirror for the millionth time, even though I might not even get to see Bruce tonight. My dark hair is in a high ponytail with a red ribbon tied around it. I’m wearing black leggings that look like they’re made of leather, white high-top sneakers, a red crew neck shirt, and a denim jacket over the top so I won’t get cold. I might not match the other girls tonight, but at least I’ll blend in.
My doorbell rings, but I take a second to apply another coat of my cherry-red lipstick. Red is the color of the Eagles home jerseys, and all the girls are doing a red lip tonight. With my lips perfected, I rush to answer the door.
Amber stands before me in a black mini skirt, heeled boots that pull up over her knees, and an out of this world red satin jacket. It’s bedazzled with blue and white rhinestones and has my brother’s number on the tops of the sleeves, kind of like a military dress uniform. She grins at me, her red lipstick perfectly in place, then spins so I can see the back where the jacket is emblazoned with ‘Remington’ in more blue and white rhinestones. Right under my brother’s name is a gorgeous, embroidered eagle. The eagle is soaring, hopefully right into the final round of playoffs.
It's the best WAG jacket I’ve ever seen. I’m raging with jealousy on the inside, but it quickly subsides because Amber looks incredible, and I know we’re going to have the best time tonight.
I allow my jaw to drop as I take her in. “Amber! You’re a babe! Wow.”
She flips her hair that’s curled in loose waves and winks. “You think Remy will like it?”
“He’d be crazy not to.”
“You look amazing too! I wish you had a jacket. I should’ve had an extra Remington one made.” Her mouth turns down at the corners.
“Absolutely not; that would be so weird.” I grab my small handbag from my table. “Okay, let’s go meet the girls. I have a feeling it’s going to be a very good night.”
Amber squeals and does a little bounce—impressive in those boots. She grabs my hand and hauls me outside.
An hour later, we’re walking down to our seats in the corner behind Bruce’s net. This is where the wives tend to sit—aka, where the general manager, Tom Parker, gives them cheap tickets. Andie paired her jacket with velvet, flared pants and red heels. Noel wore high-waisted trousers and vintage saddle shoes with hers. And Mel opted for a skin-tight black dress that falls around her ankles but has a slit up to her thigh. She’s wearing adorable red sneakers with the dress—she said she wanted to be comfortable. They all look amazing. They had me take a bunch of photos for them earlier, and they asked me to be in a few, too. I smile to myself, loving that they always include me.
The five of us shuffle into our row. Another row of WAGs sit right behind us, dressed equally cute.
I’m on the very end of the row, and Andie is beside me. Mel and Noel are next to her and then Amber. Soon, the guys file out for warmups and the ladies go crazy…and not just the WAG section. Literally every woman in this place is whooping and blowing kisses. I wish I could say it’s fine, and it’s all in good fun, because deep down I know that it is. But three rows in front of us there’s a whole row of women with McBride jerseys holding posters they made in hopes to catch Bruce’s attention. Bruce—to his credit—doesn’t seem to notice anything happening behind the glass. He’s in net, blocking shots like the talented goalie he is. I wish I could see his face, I bet he’s smiling. But it’s better that he can’t look at me, we’ve already been too reckless.
Bruce slides out of his area and starts shooting pucks into the empty net, and now I can see his face. I was right; it was better the other way, before I could see his handsome, happy face. I swallow, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
After playing around with the guys, Bruce starts stretching. First his arms and shoulders, and then his legs and hip-flexors. When the guys stretch it’s completely innocent, part of their job. But it doesn’t look that way…it looks like they’re grinding against the ice, their hips moving in rhythm with the music. Watching Bruce’s hips moving and sway like that…it makes me think about him doing things that have nothing to do with hockey. Before I realize how far my imagination has taken me, I’m tugging off my denim jacket and feeling rather warm.
Andie sighs. “Oh, girl. You’ve got it bad.”
I glance over at her. Bruce already warned me that Noah told her about finding us in the bathroom and Bruce trying to pay him off—unsuccessfully.
“Can’t you two just tell everyone? Then you can wear the WAG jacket I got you.” She shakes her head like her words are no big deal.
“You got me a jacket?”
She snorts an undignified laugh. “Of course, I did. I thought you two would be halfway down the aisle by now and wanted to be prepared. The way he looks at you…it could melt this entire arena. But you really dug your heels in trying to resist him. And now I have a McBride jacket hidden in my closet when you should be wearing it.” She raises her chin as if to ask why were you so stubborn?
How has she seen all that just by watching us over the last year and a half? I’ve basically ignored him. I was so careful. And they ordered these jackets a year ago. Suddenly, it dawns on me how Bruce got my number.
“You knew. All this time.” I shake my head. My skin has cooled, and my thoughts are now on throttling the giant man and not on dragging him into bed. “He told you about the bar, and you gave him my number.”
“Don’t be mad! I didn’t tell anyone. The poor guy was desperate. Kissing you altered his brain chemistry, Farrah.” She smiles at me, soft and knowing. “I’d never insert myself in someone else’s love life?—”
I gape at her. “Andie, yes you would. You live for that.”
She considers this and then nods. “Okay, you have a point. But I just wanted to help. I could see how Bruce changed after each of his friends met someone and got married…some guys would brag that they still got to be single and out on the town, but not him. He’s a family man at heart, and I could see he wanted that for himself.”
Sighing, I turn my face forward. “I thought he was too young and immature, especially after everything with my ex. But he’s different than I thought.”
I swivel my head back in Andie’s direction when she whispers, “He’s changed. You brought out the best in him.”
I gaze out onto the ice, to find the man in question looking right at me. He’s frozen in place, staring with a dumb grin on his face. I shake my head but smile back. Just two fools falling in love no matter how little they make sense on paper. No matter how much drama they might cause. I guess that’s what love—er, feelings—will do to you—you’ll fight for it no matter the cost. And I know it will cost us.
Bruce lifts his hand that’s covered in a massive goalie glove, and waves. My brother, Colby, Mitch, and West notice him and join in the waving. All the guys wink and blow kisses at their wives, not noticing exactly where Bruce’s attention is directed—thankfully.
Amber runs down the aisle and up to the plexiglass, placing her hands on it, and Remy skates close and covers her hands with his. Only the glass separates them. The Eagles photographers eat it up, snapping photos rapidly. Amber finally notices the flashes and blushes. She blows her husband one final good luck kiss and bounds back up the stairs.
Warmups come to an end, and Bruce disappears, with one last glance in my direction, along with his teammates.
The girls and I run to get concessions for the game, and by the time we wait in line and get our food, we’re back just in time for puck drop.
The first period passes quickly with the Eagles ahead two-zero. I think it’s going to be an easy win for our boys, until the second period comes and goes. The Texas Spurs move into the lead, with a score of three-two. A loss tonight could be devastating to the team’s confidence. The stakes are high and all the relaxed, jovial vibes we experienced walking into this arena are now dashed. Instead, as the third and final period begins, the girls and I are literally sitting on the edge of our seats. Andie is biting her nails, Noel is tugging on her short curls, Mel is anxiously rubbing her non-existent belly, and Amber is closing her eyes like she can’t bear to watch. And I’m just staring at the back of Bruce’s head, willing him to block more goals.
I know he’ll beat himself up if they lose tonight. I’ve always thought being a goalie would be the worst position in hockey. You’re blamed for everything, and it’s the position with the most pressure. But I never thought about how anxiety inducing it might be to be the person who loves the goalie. Well, maybe not love . Love seems like a strong word… The person falling for the goalie? The person who occasionally makes out and watches movies with the goalie.
Nine minutes into the third period, the Spurs get a tripping penalty, giving the Eagles a power play. And thanks to West’s powerful slapshot, he scores and ties up the game. The power play ends, and the game is tied.
None of us girls can even breathe at this point. I’ve known Andie for almost two years now, and I never knew she could be this quiet. I wish she’d make a funny quip to distract us like she usually does, but I know she can’t focus on anything but the game right now.
As both teams faceoff on the offensive end of the ice, Bruce takes a moment to stretch his neck from side to side. He grabs his water bottle—which I know is filled with yellow Gatorade—and squirts it on his face and neck. I cringe, that’s going to be sticky. But if I was in net and sweating as much as he probably is, I might spray myself with Gatorade as well.
Andie audibly gasps, and my focus sways from Bruce to what’s happening with the other players. The Spurs captain has sped away from the rest of the pack and is gaining rapidly on Bruce’s net. Bruce crouches down, getting ready for him.
I hold my breath as the Spurs’ captain gains on Bruce and acts like he’s going to shoot down low, then switches at the last second and slaps the puck in the left corner. I have no clue how—some kind of goalie magic, I suppose—but Bruce’s hand goes up in the nick of time and catches the puck deftly in his glove.
I jump up from my seat, screaming at the top of my lungs, “Yes! Bruce! You made that puck your bitch!” But no one can hear me except Andie, because the entire arena is on their feet, cheering so loud it feels like it could crack the ice.
Andie cackles at my statement and pulls me into an embrace. “Yeah, he did, girl! Let’s put that on a T-shirt!” We both jump up and down laughing hysterically from how excited we are.
Bruce gets high fives and head taps from his teammates; then the arena quiets down in hopeful anticipation. The teams faceoff once more with only two minutes left. Colby wins the faceoff and skates quickly in the direction of the Spurs’ net. West and Mitch follow closely, and Colby waits for just the right moment to pass the puck to West. West is the highest goal scorer on the team, so the defensemen for the Spurs are all over him. He passes to Mitch, and Mitch catches the puck, but it ricochets off his stick. One of the Spurs forwards takes advantage of the mishap and snags it, moving it back out of the offensive zone. But Remy is ready for him, snagging it deftly and skating it back toward the net.
I bring my hands up to cover my mouth as I watch, thinking he’s going to shoot it.
Thirty seconds left.
At the very last second, he passes the puck to Mitch, it’s smooth and easy, like they’ve practiced this play a million times—and they probably have. The goalie wasn’t expecting the trade off and isn’t prepared for Mitch when he pulls his stick back and shoots the puck so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t slice the thing in half. The puck shoots into the net right under the goalie’s legs.
The buzzer goes off marking the end of the game only a few seconds after Mitch scores his goal. Everyone’s up again, screaming and cheering. It’s deafening, but in a glorious way.
Andie is going berserk to my left, cupping her hands over her mouth and yelling the most inappropriate things into the air around us.
I guess when her husband scores a goal, she becomes even more unhinged than usual…which is concerning because she’s pretty unhinged on a daily basis.
Smiling so wide my face hurts, I turn my attention to the ice once more. I expect to find Bruce McBride hugging and celebrating with his teammates, but what I find instead quiets everything around me. The noise seems to silence, and the crowd seems to disappear as I find Bruce standing by his net but facing me.
He’s staring at me with a wide smile again, like a puppy greeting his best friend after being separated all day.
Like a hero coming home from war.
Like a man who loves a woman.