Chapter 11
eleven
INDIGO
“I still think you should get a jersey with his name on it.” Lola grabs a jersey off the rack in the team store. It’s packed. Everyone wants souvenirs to celebrate the last regular-season game of the year and the fact that the Rogues are favored to make it all the way to the Cup.
“I don’t want to send the wrong message,” I reply, dismissing her and picking up a hoodie.
“And what message is that? The one that says you’ve followed his career since college, know all his stats, and got your best friend into hockey because you couldn’t stand to miss a game, even if it meant we stayed in instead of going out?
” Lola waves the jersey in front of my face, Navarro plastered across the back.
“I’m pretty sure he’s not going to assume you’re in love with him because you wear his jersey. Even if that’s the truth.”
“Lola,” I hiss, scanning the crowded room to make sure no one is listening. The last thing I need is for our conversation to spark the interest of some super fan and then get recognized.
“Oh, relax, Inds. Half the women in this room are probably in love with him.” She sidles up to me and leans in close. “But they don’t know him. You do. And you’re the one whose number he was desperate to get.”
“I’m not buying the jersey.”
She shrugs. “Fine. Live in your denial, boo. I’m getting Griffin’s jersey. He’s a legend for what he did last year. And for marrying that gorgeous woman.”
Some of the tension drains from my shoulders, and I laugh at that. “She is pretty.”
“So is Bash.”
“Jesus, Lols.”
A woman looks our way and chuckles. “He is, right?”
Lola nods. “I don’t even like men, and I can agree he is.”
“I’m going to pay for this hoodie.” And with that, I walk away from my best friend, her loud laughter following me to the register.
I’m going to regret bringing her tonight.
The energy in the arena is electric. It’s the last game of the regular season and a home game, so you can practically feel the collective hope that this is the year the Rogues bring home the Cup.
The New York Warriors are living up to their name. They’re not as high in the league standings as the Rogues, which gives them chips on their shoulders and something to prove.
We’re halfway through the second period, and it’s been a very physical game. I can’t even count the number of times players have been slammed into the boards, and while no fights have broken out yet, it’s probably only a matter of time.
The score is tied one to one, and even though I can’t see him clearly from our seats near center ice, I can tell Sebastian is frustrated. It doesn’t matter that he’s already stopped twenty-two shot attempts; he let one through.
Every once in a while, when the puck is in play down in the Warrior’s defensive zone, I’ll feel his eyes on me. Lola and I were in our seats—well, Sebastian’s seats—for warm-ups, so he saw us and waved. He knows we’re here, and I hope I’m not the reason he missed stopping that goal in the first.
I don’t want to be the reason he’s distracted.
“Come on, guys!” Lola shouts, drawing my attention away from Bash and back to the action happening down by the Warriors’ goal. The Rogues’ center, Maddox Graves, fights for control against one of New York’s defensemen, while Griffin and Logan work to position themselves to attempt a shot.
The sharp crack of the puck being passed around slices through the rest of the noise in the arena.
From Maddox to Griffin to Logan, then back to Maddox.
He draws his stick back and takes a shot, which New York’s goalie deflects with his stick.
But Logan is right there, ready to take the rebound.
And when the opportunity arrives, he doesn’t hesitate.
“Fuck yeah,” I scream, jumping to my feet along with Lola and the rest of the hometown fans.
Turning to my best friend, we hug and jump in place while the siren blares, the lights flash, and the guys pile around Logan to celebrate with him.
Sebastian celebrates with Ryder Hanson, then the two teams are facing off once again at center ice.
The pace of the game picks up from there.
New York plays more aggressively, and the hits grow harder. The crowd boos when Wright gets a two-minute penalty for roughing, but we cheer when the Rogues make it through the penalty kill without giving up any goals.
“Your boy’s a beast,” Lola shouts when Bash deflects another shot attempt two seconds before Griffin retakes the ice.
“Not my boy,” I reply. But she’s right, he is a beast. And even though he’s not mine, pride swells in my chest. Because Bash was always good.
I never had a doubt in my mind when he was drafted at nineteen that he’d end up with a spot on the roster.
After college, he spent only one year on the Rogues’ affiliated AHL team before they called him up.
I wasn’t surprised.
I’d celebrated his first NHL game alone in my room, my heart simultaneously filled with pride and breaking a little further. Because we’d spent so many nights on the phone together dreaming about that day. And he’d always make me promise I’d be there to cheer him on.
But I wasn’t. And I couldn’t help wondering if the girl he’d kissed that night was.
“Right, right. Sorry. Your man.” Lola laughs as she elbows me.
I don’t even bother fighting with her.
They go into the final period up by one, and the battle is so intense in the third that no one sinks another shot. Not that they don’t try. Bash must be exhausted after stopping at least a dozen more shots on goal in the third.
The crowd goes wild when the final buzzer sounds and the Rogues end their regular season with a win.
After all these years, I’m here, watching Sebastian celebrate a big win on the ice with his team. It’s something I thought I’d experience over and over again. Something my eighteen-year-old self assumed would be a regular part of her life.
But things don’t always work out the way we hope. At least I’m here, now.
The crowd thins as people head for the exits, trying to beat the post-game traffic jam.
But I don’t move. I watch as Sebastian’s teammates surround him.
Smile as they press their helmets to his or pat him on the head affectionately.
I memorize the way he smiles and file it away for when I’m back in California and he’s still here.
“You should talk to him, you know.” Lola slings her arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “Clear the air.”
“What would be the point? It’s been a decade, Lols. We’re both different people with very different lives. Hell, there’s half a country between us.”
“Sure,” she says as we watch the guys break apart. “But you can do your job anywhere. There doesn’t need to be half a country between you. And I suspect you’re not as different as you keep telling yourself. Because that man? The one skating our way? He’s looking at you like you’re everything.”
And with that, Lola grabs my hand and pulls me down the stairs toward the boards where Sebastian waits. He takes off one glove, then his helmet before shaking out his sweaty hair and greeting us with a massive smile.
“Good game, crab boy,” Lola shouts through the plexiglass.
Bash barks out a laugh. “Crab boy?”
“Yeah. Goalies look like little crabs in all their gear. You got the little pincers and everything.” She motions to his pads and gloves, and she’s not wrong. Goalies do resemble crabs a bit. Especially when they’re scuttling to the side in the crease, trying to stop a puck.
“Fair enough.” He tucks his helmet under one arm and turns his attention to me. “Hey, Indie.”
“Hi.” I cross my arms to keep myself from tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, because Lola will totally call me on my shit if I flirt with him in front of her. “Good game.”
“Thanks. Wish I could have pulled off a shutout, but it is what it is. New York played hard tonight.” He waves at a few kids and fans who start to crowd around nearby, hoping to get a glimpse of the goalie or to take some photos.
It makes me squirm, and I turn away from the crowds, careful that no one gets my face in a shot. Lola notices and positions herself between me and the fans, but she’s not the only one who does. Bash clocks my growing discomfort, and his brown eyes flash with understanding.
“Do you ladies have plans tonight?”
I open my mouth to make some excuse, but Lola beats me to it. “Nope. Not a single one.”
He grins at her. “Good. I’m going to get someone to bring you both to the family room. Wait for me? The guys would love to meet you both, and so would their wives and partners. Come out with us?”
“Oh, I—”
“We’re in,” Lola says, cutting me off. “We can’t wait to meet them too.”
“Great. Wait here, okay?” He looks at me when he says that. All I can do is nod. Then he’s skating toward the Rogues’ bench, where he says something to a man in Rogues’ gear while motioning to Lola and me.
“See?” Lola hip-checks me. “Those are not the eyes of an indifferent man, Indigo. That man wants you still.”
“Pulling out the full name, huh? Should I be scared?”
“That depends,” she says in a singsong tone. “Are you going to keep being a little bitch, or are you going to talk to him like the strong, confident woman you are?”
“Harsh, Lols.”
“Just speaking the truth, boo. You’ve been avoiding this conversation for a decade. Time to woman up and clear the air.”
My stomach flips as the man Sebastian was talking to makes his way over to us. “Look, I know, okay? I know I need to talk to him, eventually. But tonight’s not the time. I don’t want to take away from his win or their celebrations.”
And I don’t want his teammates, or anyone else, to see me crumble when he tells me he’s never felt more than friendship for me.
Lola knows me well enough to see right through me, but thankfully, doesn’t push. She gives me a long, hard look, then nods decisively. “Fine. Tonight’s not the night, but you need to promise me you won’t wait too long. You owe it to yourself to talk about what happened that night.”
Before I can respond, the man in Rogues gear approaches with a big smile. “Indie and Lola?”
“That’s us,” my bestie says, linking our arms.
“I’m Todd. I’m the equipment manager. Navarro asked me to escort you ladies to the family room. Do you have everything you need?”
“We sure do, Todd. Lead the way.” Lola flashes him her brightest smile and tugs on my arm, forcing me to follow him.
My heart beats faster with every step we take. If this were a romance novel I was writing, I’d be kicking my feet and grinning, because it would be the beginning of my characters reconnecting. This would be a pivotal moment in their love story.
But this isn’t a romance novel. It’s not a love story. This is real life, and Sebastian Navarro has disappointed me before. There’s no reason to think this time will be any different.
“Quit spiraling,” Lola whispers in my ear.
Sure. Yeah. I’ll get right on that.
I almost get my heart rate under control. Then Todd waves us into the family room and a brown-haired woman notices us. She whispers something to the three gorgeous women around her, and four sets of very curious eyes turn my way.
Quit spiraling, my ass.