BETTSY
The best thing about allocated tickets is knowing exactly where to look to see who’s using your seats.
Even though I can’t say I’ve never had a girl in the stands before, this time, it feels different.
And I sort of get where Liam Preston was coming from when he told me he sort of shows off a bit in front of Vicky; like he can’t help himself…
I definitely want to show off.
As we skate out for warm-ups, I do an extra lap of our defensive end so I can check she’s here and when I spot her, sitting next to my sister, wearing the Betts jacket, my pulse picks up a little speed.
“She’s here then?” Danny asks, falling in to skate next to me.
“Yeah, she’s with Kelly,” I say.
I try not to look, because there’s a time and place, and right now, I need to run through my warm-up routine or bad things will happen. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I fire one puck towards the empty net, circling around to repeat the shot a second and a third time before stopping on the blueline, dropping to the ice and positioning my stick out in front of me so I can stretch my groin.
I’ve set my routine in stone: lower body, upper body, then fire at the net a few more times. I thrive on the predictability of a very unpredictable game.
“Don’t suppose you’ve asked about the golfing trip yet, have you?” Danny says.
I stare blankly at him. “Golfing trip?”
“Yeah. After the playoffs and before we go to Romania with Team GB … assuming we get formally selected. Come on, mate. It’s the same thing every year.” He rolls his eyes .
Honestly, the last thing on my mind has been golfing. Between ex’s, marriages, Team GB stuff, and Ellie, I’ve had little time to think about excursions.
“Well, I’ve been busy … but why would I need to ask about it?”
“You have a wife now,” he says, emphasising the word ‘wife’ with an air of envy in his tone. “You’ll need to get permission.”
I stop dead, mid-stretch, like a cat busy cleaning themselves, leg in the air, only to hear a mouse twenty feet away.
“Permission?” I say, tightening my jaw. “I don’t think I need permission … do I? We don’t even live together.”
Danny shrugs. “Well, you don’t see Johnny going anywhere without asking Kelly, do you? And they don’t officially live together either.”
“Nah, he tells her out of courtesy, there’s a difference.”
“Whatever you say. But maybe it doesn’t matter now, anyway. Are you guys … serious or?”
That’s the question I’ve been dreading, and it clearly shows on my face. Danny gets to his skates and glides away, perfectly content with the knowledge he’s put me on edge.
Do I need to ask for permission? Surely not … but I wouldn’t want to upset her or whatever. The only thing I’ve really got to go off is whatever Rochelle and I were because that was a head-fuck, and I had to ask permission to take a piss.
I spot Vicky at the bench, lingering behind her camera set up on a tripod, peering at the screen of her phone.
Maybe a female perspective would be useful.
Without hesitating, I skate towards her and come to a stop at the boards, leaning over to grab a water bottle as a ruse.
“How’s it going, Vic?” I ask, noticing her frown.
“Yeah, fine.” She keeps her eyes on her phone, brows knit together.
“Busy? Or…”
“I’m just looking at Ellie’s sister’s social media—you know, just to see …” She flashes her phone in my direction, and I laugh .
“That’s not her sister,” I say.
“Uh, yes, it is.”
I look at the photo again. “Nah, it can’t be.”
Vicky narrows her eyes as she looks up at me. “Yes, it is. Kathryn Kitchener … owner of House of Kathryn. Ellie and I had an entire conversation about this very profile today. Ellie’s in this photo with her and?—”
I tuck my right glove under my arm and grab Vicky’s phone right out of her hands.
The image filling Vicky’s screen is someone I recognise, sure, but only because this was the woman connected to Rick Langdon’s face in the lobby of the hotel weeks ago.
“Wait—this is her sister?” I can’t stop the nervous laugh that escapes from my throat.
“How do you not know that?” she says. “And get your sweaty hands off.” She swipes her phone back and I lean in, keen to see more.
“I haven’t seen her sister in … years.” I bite my lip, briefly wondering if I should tell Vicky before deciding there’s no way I can keep this to myself. “Vic—if you knew something about someone doing something or someone they shouldn’t be doing … would you tell someone about the something?”
Vicky’s jaw hits the shelf as she stares at me.
“Excuse me? I got lost on the first ‘some’… whatever,” she says, waving her hand. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I blow out a breath. “You remember Langer, right?”
“Yeah, he plays for?—”
“Don’t say it.” I hold my hand up, forcing Vicky to halt. “When I was doing the GB training camp, I saw Langer one morning, making out with someone in the lobby. And I’m ninety-nine per cent sure that was her.”
“Who? Kathryn?” Vicky says, pulling her eyebrows together.
“Yeah. Kathryn—who’s supposed to be engaged to some guy called Greg … who happens to be Langers best mate.” I pause before adding, “Langer is Greg’s best man. ”
“Stop,” Vicky says. “Oh, my God.” Her hands fly to her mouth, phone still clutched tightly in her palm.
“So, do you think I should tell Kitch?”
I say it, but I don’t need Vicky to tell me the answer; I know I should tell her.
The reflection of the timer in the glass, ticking down on the jumbotron tells me I’ve eaten into too much of my warm-up time and the anxiety of not finishing my routine sits heavy in my stomach, causing me to abandon the real reason for my intrusion on Vicky’s time.
But as I skate away, I allow myself a glance in Ellie’s direction, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to tell her about her sister.