32. Lilah
LILAH
If it weren’t for the little light spinning on top of the goal and the way the stands swelled with a deafening blast of Hawthorne Hawk celebration, I wouldn’t have even known the puck hit the net.
Apparently everyone else was a lot better than me at following the little black dot as it blazed across the ice.
The Hawks banged their sticks against the ice for Mason before getting right back to it.
Sitting in the stands and wearing Mason’s jersey at center ice across the arena from Rye’s mom made my worlds collide.
At times, literally. Mason and Rye had brutal head-to-heads in almost every play.
Their bodies and helmets slammed against the glass so hard that it flexed and bowed.
This was pretty much a nightmare come to life. I had to force myself not to look away.
I couldn’t help but stare in awe at the fluidity and power behind every one of Mason’s plays. He protected his teammates. He passed if they were open, but never shied away from taking a shot.
The puck was intercepted by Hawthorne and passed to Mason. He spun into a breakaway sprint toward the Verona goal that had me on my feet. The goal buzzer blared at the same time as the end of the period horn. Our whole section collectively lost their minds.
Paige almost jumped into my arms. I laughed and tried not to topple down the molded plastic seats.
After stress-sipping my drink, the twelve-minute intermission was just long enough to sprint for the bathrooms. I had to pass by two with lines stretched out the door before finding a third, miles from my seat.
Women’s lines weren’t usually out the door at hockey games, but the crowd might’ve been more than fifty-fifty at the prospect of partying with their respective hockey gods on the minds of the Hawthorne and Verona fans.
I finished up inside and was jogging back to my seats when my name echoed in the concrete hallway.
“Lilah!” Warm arms had wrapped me up before I’d even turned. Rye’s mom smelled of home cooking and the scented powder she always wore—the same one Rye and I had once gotten in trouble for using for a snow party in their living room and nearly suffocating each other with.
“Nora, hi!” I squeezed her back.
She rocked me side to side. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair was held back by a Verona green headband. Her whole outfit was Verona green.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. How’s your recovery been since the concussion? I can’t believe it’s already been eight months. I’m so sorry I didn’t stop by. Juggling the three boys…”
“You have a lot on your plate. I’ve been good. Grades mostly stayed the same. I’m in the top five percent of my class.”
“You were always so smart, but most of all so dedicated. So driven. And congratulations on getting into Bellevue! Seattle, that’s so exciting.”
I blushed under the intense praise. If Nora were to tell it, I’d probably sprout wings and fly to Seattle next year.
“Has Rye been bringing over the food I’ve been sending?”
I laughed. “Hasn’t he been bringing back the Tupperware?”
“I found five of them in his back seat only last week.” Her eyes narrowed with mock-suspicion but then brightened again. “But then I thought you must’ve been getting them because there was no way he’d have cleaned them.”
“It’s all made it to me and I’ve loved every bit of it.”
“Good! You must be so excited to start med school. It’s all you’ve ever talked about.” She hugged me again, that comforting, motherly bear hug that made the back of my nose sting.
“Only premed for now.” I still had to make it through all the prereqs for med school.
“But this is the joint program, isn’t it?”
She’d remembered.
“Dr. Lilah Byrd. You’ll be a fabulous doctor.” She squeezed my shoulders with a caring glint in her eyes and complete confidence in her grip. More than once since my mom had died, I’d imagined what my life would have been like if Nora had taken me in instead of my dad.
Once she released me, she nudged Rye’s two little brothers, Max and Sam, who weren’t all that little anymore.
Twelve and thirteen now, and in just over six months they’d shot up even more and reached the awkward middle schooler stage.
They gave me sidelong hugs, almost taller than me now, but I still ruffled their hair, which drew noises of outrage from them.
“Here to see your big brother kick some butt?”
They shrugged. “He’s kinda getting his butt kicked right now.” Then looked at me.
“Why are you wearing Hawks colors?”
“Oh, Lilah!” Rye’s grandmother, grandfather, and two aunts and uncles turned the corner and marched right over to me. Hugs all around. “Where have you been?”
“Why aren’t you sitting with us?”
“Mary loves the dress you made her.”
“We’ve missed seeing you at Thanksgiving.”
Their voices layered over each other in a chaotic flurry of familial love.
“Why are you wearing a Hawthorne jersey?”
“That’s what we were asking,” Sam chipped in.
I shifted and fidgeted with the edges of Mason’s jersey.
“Remember,” Nora said, “Rye said she was dating one of the hockey players there now.”
“As long as it’s not that Shaw,” Rye’s aunt said.
I prayed for an actual hawk to appear and carry me away.
“Dirty player,” Rye’s grandfather groused.
A dry, brittle laugh escaped my throat.
The blare of the buzzer saved me. From inside the arena, there was a collective groan clashing with cheers.
Verona scored. They’d tied it up at 2-2.
My stomach twisted and churned with nerves.
I stabbed my nails into my palms, itching to get back inside.
I felt like a traitor standing with Rye’s family in the passageway.
Mason had worked so hard for this in his last year.
A battle waged inside me, wanting to be happy for Rye but also wanting Mason to win.
They all rushed back to their entrance with even more hugs and promises I’d come over soon.
Instead of going back to my entrance, I entered the nearest Hawthorne student section one so I didn’t miss any more of the game.
“Lilah! Lilah!” An arm looped around my neck, almost knocking me off my feet. Kelsey smiled at me and turned me in the opposite direction of where I’d been going.
“See! This is my other sister, Lilah.”
“Hey, Lilah.” Eliza waved at me from her seat on the other side of the three girls gawking at me.
“Oh my god, she is wearing Mason Shaw’s jersey.” One of the sophomores grabbed my arm, staring at me with jealousy-laced wonder. “I’d fucking die.”
Kelsey kept her arm around me like we’d only recently been surgically separated. “He gave it to her forever ago. We see Mason all the time. He and Lilah are always together. Let’s get a picture.” She let me go only long enough to grab her phone.
“Show us the back!” Kelsey pushed at my shoulder to get me to turn around.
Wasn’t this part of the whole annoying little sister thing?
Them wanting to show off to their friends?
As much as I wanted to be back in my seat, this moment chipped away at the iceberg that seemed to always be between us.
A family-starved part of me welcomed these kinds of sisterly moments, even if there was a bitter aftertaste, knowing she wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t dating Mason and wearing his jersey.
After my impromptu photo shoot in the seats of the Hawthorne Prep student section, I finally peeled myself away from Kelsey and her friends’ barrage of questions about Mason and the rest of the guys.
“You’ll be at the after party?”
I glanced toward the ice. No matter what happened tonight, someone I loved lost. “Not sure yet. We’ll see how the game goes, but if we do, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay!” Kelsey said, bubbly and smiling like never before, waving so big that she almost elbowed her friend in the face. “See you later, Lilah. Can’t wait to party with Mason!”
I skirted through the aisles until I made it back to Paige.
She wrapped her arms around my arm and yanked me down into my seat. “What the hell took you so long?” Her eyes were glued to the ice.
“Long story. Apparently, after the players, I’m the second most popular person in this arena tonight.”
Paige’s response was cut off when the whole section got to their feet. Calder intercepted the puck and cut through every Verona defender only to float the puck to Erik, who’d come out of nowhere to whip the puck into the net.
The foghorn buzzer rumbled my bones while our half of the arena was screaming so loudly that it vibrated the floor under my feet. All the Hawthorne players banged their sticks against the wall or the bench.
The score was now 3-2.
They traded back and forth with shots on goal.
Verona got another in, tying it up to 3-3.
Then, in the final seconds, there was one play left.
Mason had the puck. He passed it behind him to Calder, who swooped in.
The second ticked down, but the game was far from over.
The whole arena was on their feet now. We were going into overtime or this was the moment they would clinch it.
Heart lodged in my throat, I slammed my eyes shut before snapping them back open. Mason powered across the ice, battling to lose his cover and get Calder the pass. Bodies twisted, shoved and slammed into each other.
I couldn’t see the puck. Paige’s fingers were going to leave a dent in my arm.
My heart pounded in my ears, fingers biting into the seat in front of me.
A flash of black near the net. The crowd went silent.