Chapter 5
Olivia
Olivia wished she hadn’t long outgrown wearing Connor’s jersey. The few times she’d used Connor’s tickets over the years, wearing his sweater had gotten her side-eyes from the other players’ family members.
It was unfair. She always got held to WAG standards, but she didn’t get any of the benefits. She shouldn’t have to fit in with them, but sticking out like a sore thumb amongst them sucked. At least this time she was blonde, no wild hair drawing attention to herself.
They were all so perfect, it almost felt pointless to try. The WAGs were invariably stunning. Thin and fit, blonde, polished, and clad in designer everything. Eyeliner drawn on in flawless sharp points and straight edges. Their children never cried, screamed, or threw tantrums.
Olivia, with her tattoos and vibrant hair, and a few extra pounds, had never been comfortable with them. She was an outsider in more ways than one.
Connor promised Daisy was different, and that she would teach Olivia who to be friends with and who to watch out for. Olivia wouldn’t be holding her breath.
She curled her hair and painted on the same concealer and lipstick combo she’d used a couple of nights before to cover her tear-stained features.
Then she slipped into a black dress that had shrunk in the wash.
Olivia refused to entertain the alternative.
The dress zipped but dug into her ribs. She examined herself in the full-length mirror and sighed.
It would have to do. She slipped on a pair of Vans and brushed her curls out into soft waves as the doorbell rang.
When she opened the door, a cheerful, beautiful woman dressed in athleisure wear greeted her.
“Um, sorry. Connor isn’t home,” she said and moved to close the door.
The woman gave her a bright smile, putting Olivia at ease. She stuck out a hand to hold the door open.
“I know, I’m here for you. I’m Daisy.”
Olivia blinked a few times, speechless. Daisy was nothing like Olivia had expected.
About the same height as Olivia, wild dark hair fell to just below her shoulders.
Beautiful freckles dotted her cheeks and nose.
She wore no makeup, and her outfit consisted of leggings and a Seattle Freeze sweatshirt.
Daisy stepped into Olivia’s personal space and looped her arms around her waist. She smelled like strawberries.
“I’m excited to meet you! Hazy has been talking about you forever.
We were all worried when you moved to Seattle, and we never met you.
We were convinced he’d either made you up, or something terrible had happened. ”
Olivia’s cheeks grew warm as she awkwardly returned Daisy’s embrace. “Nothing terrible happened. Life got in the way, I guess.” She stepped aside, letting Daisy into the house.
Taking in Daisy’s appearance, Olivia decided she didn’t want to sit for four hours at the arena with her breathing constricted by a dress nobody would appreciate.
“Can you give me a second?” she asked.
Daisy nodded and walked through Connor’s house like she owned the place, settling on a barstool at the kitchen island after grabbing herself a sparkling water from the fridge.
Olivia raided Connor’s room for Freeze-branded clothing. His room was organized chaos. Clothes littered the floor; half-read books collected dust on his nightstand; and his wastebasket needed emptying. She snagged the first sweatshirt she spotted, a blue athletic material hoodie.
In her own room she rushed to change, yanking the stifling dress over her head and slipping into Connor’s sweatshirt and a pair of joggers. She breathed a sigh of relief.
The sweatshirt she’d commandeered still smelled like Connor.
He’d been using the same Old Spice body wash since high school, and the familiar scent calmed her nerves.
She lifted the neckline of the sweatshirt to her nose and inhaled, letting herself enjoy this little piece of him she’d denied herself for far too long.
Once, she convinced Lance to use the same body wash. It made him smell weird. On Connor the scent was perfect. Whiffing the bottle got Olivia close to the same sense of calmness, but not quite.
She might steal his shirt for good. And maybe a couple more before she left.
If she ever could leave. Staying with him a little longer might be her only option if she didn’t want to go home.
And she really didn’t want to move home.
The town sucked her soul out within seconds of arriving.
Living there again wasn’t a real option long-term.
Fuck. She needed to talk to Connor about that.
Daisy met her in the living room. “Ooh, you look comfy.”
“I am,” she said, resolving to enjoy the evening watching her best friend play hockey before she focused on solving her financial crisis. “This is much better.” She stuffed her wallet and keys into her sweatshirt pocket before leading the way out the door.
Olivia loved Daisy. The woman put her at ease, gave her unspoken permission to be comfortable, and blasted early-aughts pop music as loud as the speakers would go for the entire half-hour drive to the rink.
Then she’d grabbed a bag from her trunk on the way in and shown off a stash of snack food and beer.
“I don’t think you’re allowed to take that in,” Olivia said.
Daisy chuckled. “I’m allowed to bring in whatever I want. I’m a WAG, and a staff member, and press.”
“Lucky! I never get to bring my own snacks. It’s always thirty-five dollars for nachos and a beer.”
Security let them through without searching the giant tote. “As long as you’re with me or any other WAG, you won’t have to worry about that. We can check out the family room too. There’s food in there.” Daisy led Olivia to the glass for warmups.
Olivia frowned. Connor hadn’t ever invited her to the family room, even though she’d sat with the WAGs before. Maybe she’d been missing out on the privileges he could offer.
Children with signs and intoxicated adults pounded on the glass.
As soon as Daisy and Olivia got to the front of the crowd, the three Connors waved at them, and Valentine raced toward them, slapping his hand onto the glass in front of Daisy before zooming to the bench to congregate with his linemates.
“Well, that’s kind of rude,” Olivia said.
Daisy, distracted watching them fiddle with something on the bench, asked, “What’s rude?”
“That weird thing Valentine just did.”
Daisy turned wide eyes to Olivia. “You call him Valentine too? I’ve been trying to start a movement for years.”
Olivia cleared her throat, inexplicably embarrassed. “Connor said I could. Calling them all Connor would be too confusing.”
“That’s what I said!”
“I sure as hell wasn’t calling him Lover.” Olivia mimed an over-the-top gag, one finger pointed down her throat.
“They lean way too heavily on that joke. Better now that he’s twenty-six, though. When he was twenty-one, the media’s portrayal of him fired me up. He doesn’t deserve that toxic shit.”
“Exactly!”
Three hockey players loomed in her periphery. The Connors stood along the boards, staring at her and Daisy.
Beanie winked at Daisy, who blushed but reached into the air to catch the puck he tossed over the boards for her.
It had a piece of paper secured to it with a rubber band, and Daisy pulled the slip free, unfolding it and smiling.
When she stuck the paper in her pocket and examined the puck, Olivia asked, “What’s that? ”
Daisy’s smirk held secrets Olivia didn’t want to know. She waved away her own question. “Never mind.”
Daisy pointed at the glass and said, “You’ll see for yourself in about ten seconds if you’d pay attention to the poor boys.”
She’d gotten distracted watching Daisy pore over her puck and hadn’t noticed that while Beanie had left the ice, warmups almost over, Connor and Valentine still stood there. She frowned at them.
“What?” she mouthed, knowing they couldn’t hear her.
Connor held up a puck and bounced his hand a couple of times, showing her she should catch it. The puck flew over the glass, and she snagged it, shoving it in her pocket before Valentine tossed a second.
Valentine’s had a sticky note attached to it. She pulled the blue paper free and flipped it over in her hand, confused. In sloppy script the note said, ‘Can’t wait to meet you! -Beanie.’
She showed Daisy the note, eyebrow raised in question.
“Aww,” Daisy said. “They included you! What do the pucks say?”
Olivia glanced at the one in her hand. As they climbed the arena steps toward their seats, she said, “Valentine’s has a phone number on it.”
“Wait, what?” Daisy stopped mid-stride, and Olivia ran into her, dropping the little black disk. Daisy crouched to pick it up. She read the number written in barely legible silver ink and laughed. “Didn’t know he had it in him.”
“What do you mean?” Olivia asked.
“Valentine doesn’t go around giving randos his number. That’s more of a Hazy move. He must like you.”
Daisy handed Olivia the puck. She grunted, stuffed it in her pocket, and pulled out the one from Connor.
“I’ve met him once, and we barely talked.”
“Yeah, that checks. When Valentine is interested in someone, he gets all awkward and quiet. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She revisited her first interaction with Valentine in her head. How he’d silently stared at her. Was he just shy?
Daisy pulled her out of her daydream with a question before taking a swig of her beer.
“What’s that one say?”
Olivia flipped the puck over in her hand, searching for a note. Instead, she found a crudely drawn dick. She sighed and held it up for Daisy to see.
Daisy, with her beer still held against her lips, snorted. Sticky amber liquid flew from her mouth as she fought giggles. Olivia joined in, sorting through Daisy’s enormous bag in search of napkins.
Finding a pack of tissues, Olivia pulled a few free and handed them to Daisy, who wiped her hands and nose.
“I don’t know what I expected,” Daisy said.
“Why? What does yours say?”