Chapter 27 Juliette
JULIETTE
My phone screen blurs as I stare at it. I’m not actually reading anything. Just using it as a shield while I stand outside the arena debating getting in my car and driving back to my studio apartment and my simple, organized life.
I have two options. Medical bench with Marnie—safe, familiar, an actual job to do that would give me a legitimate excuse to avoid small talk. Or the family section. With the WAGs. With women who’ve been doing this for years while I’ve been dating Romeo for approximately five minutes.
The phone buzzes in my hand and I nearly drop it.
Marnie
If you’re standing outside spiraling, I’m coming to get you.
I’m not spiraling.
Marnie
Liar. I’ll be there in five
Damn it.
She appears two minutes later with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in that look that says she knows exactly what I’m doing and she’s not having it.
“Medical bench or family section?”
“I don’t—”
“Family section. Let’s go.” Her hand wraps around my arm and suddenly we’re moving. “You’re not hiding from this.”
“I’m not hiding.” The lie sounds weak even to me.
“You’re absolutely hiding.” She’s practically dragging me through the arena now, down hallways and past concession stands, through crowds of people. “Roman told me Rodriguez has been checking his phone every five minutes. Put the poor man out of his misery.”
We push through a door marked PRIVATE and the noise drops away.
The space opens up, revealing plush seats, a full bar, and floor-to-ceiling windows showing the ice below.
It’s nicer than anywhere I’ve ever sat at a hockey game.
Which makes sense because I’ve never dated a professional hockey player before.
A dozen women are scattered around the section. Some bouncing babies on their laps. Others scrolling phones. A few standing at the glass watching warmups and chatting amongst themselves.
“Ladies!” Marnie’s voice cuts through the low chatter. “This is Juliette. Rodriguez’s girl. Be nice or I’ll make sure your husbands suffer at PT.”
A redhead spins around, a grin already spreading across her face. “Oh thank god. Fresh blood. I’m Goldie. Dex’s wife.” She gestures to the seat next to her. “Come sit before Elliot scares you off.”
“I don’t scare people.” A brunette with sharp eyes retorts. “I’m just brutally honest.”
“You made his last girlfriend cry,” Goldie points out.
“She was terrible and they broke up two weeks later. I did him a favor.”
My stomach twists. There was a last girlfriend. Who cried. Who Elliot didn’t like.
“This is Brody’s wife,” Marnie says, like she didn’t just let that bomb drop. “The nicest man is married to the meanest woman, you’ll get used to it.”
“I’m not mean.” But Elliot’s smiling now, which somehow makes it worse. “I’m selective about who I like. But Rodriguez has been mooning over you for months, so you must be doing something right.”
Another woman pats the empty seat next to her. “Ignore them. I’m Chloe. Anderson’s wife. My daughter Mackie is around here somewhere, probably flirting with the equipment staff.”
“I heard that!” A girl who can’t be more than eighteen or nineteen materializes from behind a row of seats. “I wasn’t flirting. I was asking about stick tape.”
“Sure you were.” Chloe’s smile is pure indulgence. “This is Juliette. Rodriguez’s girlfriend.”
Her entire face lights up like I’ve just made her year. “Oh my god, yes! I remember you from that day in the coffee shop! So he finally convinced you to go out with him? After months of talking about you?”
The nervous knot in my chest loosens slightly. “He talks about me?”
“All the time.” She plops into the seat next to me. “How many other players have you met? Zach? He’s the backup goalie and Rodriguez’s best friend.”
“We met briefly. In the parking lot.”
“He’s really good. Like scary good.” She leans closer to me and lowers her voice. “He’s also really cute but don’t tell anyone I said that.”
The lights drop. My heart kicks against my ribs as the announcer’s voice booms through the arena. The team skates out in a blur of black and teal and I spot him immediately.
“There’s your man,” Goldie says. “Looking good.”
“Goldie,” Elliot warns.
“What? I’m pregnant, I’m not dead.”
The puck drops and suddenly everything is fast. Bodies slamming into boards, the crack of sticks, the puck moving so quickly I can barely track it. It’s violent and beautiful and I can’t look away.
Ten minutes in, Romeo gets the puck. He’s flying down the wing, shoulders low, stick handling like the puck is glued to his blade. He dekes around a defender who lunges and misses, winds up, shoots—
Goal.
The arena explodes. The horn blares so loud it vibrates in my chest. And Romeo is skating toward our section, arm raised, pointing directly at me.
At me.
My stomach does this wild flip that’s part embarrassment, part something else I’m absolutely not ready to put a name to.
“Oh my god,” I breathe.
“He just pointed at you!” Mackie squeals, grabbing my arm. “In front of everyone! That’s so romantic!”
“That’s so embarrassing.” But my face is burning and I can’t stop smiling and everyone in this section is looking at me and I don’t even care.
“Get used to it,” Elliot says, something like approval in her voice. “They’re all show-offs.”
By the second period, I’m not just tolerating this—I’m actually enjoying it.
The women are funny and sharp and they’re not treating me like an outsider or testing me or whatever I thought they’d be doing.
Goldie keeps making increasingly inappropriate comments.
Elliot provides running commentary on every bad call with the kind of knowledge that makes it clear she actually understands hockey.
And Mackie will not stop talking about Almardon.
“He made this unbelievable save last game,” she’s saying, leaning forward like she’s sharing classified information. “Like came out of nowhere. My dad said it was luck but I think he’s just that good.”
“You’ve thought a lot about this,” I observe.
“I haven’t—I just—he’s good at hockey. That’s all.” Her cheeks are bright pink.
“Sounds like someone has a crush,” Goldie singsongs.
“I do not!”
“You absolutely do,” Chloe says, gentle but firm. “But you’re eighteen and he’s twenty-two, so let’s pump the brakes on that.”
Mackie slumps in her seat with an actual pout and I have to hide my smile behind my wine glass.
During a commercial break, Chloe turns to me. The crowd noise drops to a murmur. “So. We have a book club where we read very spicy romance books and drink lots of wine. You should come.”
“My mom hosts it,” Mackie adds. “I’m not technically in it because I’m too young, but I steal the books after.”
“We’re reading a hockey romance right now,” Elliot says. “It’s terrible. The MMC is supposed to be this big scary player but he’s never kissed anyone.”
“That’s the virgin trope,” Goldie says. “It’s a thing.”
“It’s unrealistic,” Elliot counters.
“It’s fiction. That’s the point.” Chloe’s voice has the patience of someone who’s had this argument before.
They bicker good-naturedly and I feel my nervousness slowly giving way. These women are easy. Welcoming. Not scary at all.
“You should come this week,” Chloe says, turning those kind eyes on me. “My place. Seven PM.”
“I don’t know—”
“Come,” Goldie interrupts. “Please. We need new perspectives.”
“Okay. Yeah.” The words come out before I can overthink them. “I’ll come.”
“Perfect.” Chloe’s smile is warm. “Fair warning: we get loud and drunk and very opinionated.”
The game continues. Seattle wins 4-2. Romeo scores again in the third period and this time when he points at me, I wave back. Like this is normal. Like I belong here.
After the game we wait for the guys. Some women leave, others stay and the conversation flows around me, easy and comfortable. Chloe’s in the middle of telling me about their most heated book club debate when Romeo appears in the doorway.
His hair is still damp from the shower, and when he spots me his entire face transforms.
He crosses the room like no one else exists.
“You stayed.” His voice is rough. “With them.”
“Marnie made me.”
“Remind me to buy Marnie something expensive.” He leans down and his lips find mine and I don’t care that everyone’s watching. “Come home with me.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go.”
We say quick goodbyes—Goldie reminding me about book club, Mackie making me promise to text her, Chloe just smiling like she knows exactly what’s about to happen.
The parking garage is dimly lit and we make it maybe five steps toward his Jeep before he’s got me pressed against the passenger door, his body a solid wall of heat against mine.
“You looked so good up there.” His voice is rough, mouth at my ear. “Sitting with them. Laughing. Like you belonged.”
“I felt like I was faking it.”
“You weren’t.” His hands settle on my waist, thumbs pressing through the denim against my hip bones. “Everyone loved you.”
“They did not.”
“They absolutely did.” He leans in and this kiss is different from the one inside. That one was for show. This one is just for us, deep and thorough. “I wanted to climb into the stands and drag you out of there.”
“That would’ve been a penalty.”
“Worth it.” His mouth drops to my neck and my knees go weak. I have to grab his shoulders to stay upright. “Do you know how hard I was? Watching you up there? Knowing you came to see me play?”
“You score for other people too.”
“Not like I score for you.” He pulls back just enough to look at me and there’s something in his eyes that makes it hard to breathe. “When I pointed at you and you smiled? I almost forgot how to skate.”
“That’s dangerous.”
He kisses me again, deeper, and I’m starting to think we might not make it out of this parking garage. “Get in the car.”
“You’re bossy tonight.”
“Scoring two goals for my girlfriend has that effect.”