Page 83 of Icebound Hearts
As we settle into our seats, I spot Margo standing off to the side of the Aces box, recording footage for their social media pages. She waves to me, and I wave back.
Jake stands up in his seat to get a better view of the ice, and Callie and I both instinctively put a hand on his back to keep him from falling. He cups his hands around his mouth and calls out in his little boy voice, “Let’s go, Daddy!”
The stands fill in around us as the warmup finishes, and by the time the players leave the ice, the whole arena is packed and noisy. There’s an energy coursing through the spectators, especially among the Aces fans who take up most of the seats—and it’s never more evident than when the lights dim and the spotlights projecting the Aces logo start dancing across the ice.
The crowd roars as the game finally gets underway.
I was right in my guess that the Aces are a stronger team than the Cyclones, but it’s still a tough game. There are a few shots on goal early in the first period, but then the Cyclone defense really steps things up, shutting down several plays. By the end of thefirst period, the score is 0-0, and as the second period starts, I notice Jake squirming in his seat.
At first I think it’s because he’s just so into the action playing out on the ice, but then it strikes me that there’s probably a bit more to it.
“Hey, bud,” I say, leaning down to speak over the crowd. “Do you need to hit the bathroom?”
He scrunches up his face. Clearly, he does, but he doesn’t want to miss any of the action.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, standing and taking his hand. “We’ll be quick. We won’t miss much.”
He nods reluctantly and allows me to lead him up the stairs and out to the restroom area. Just like I promised, we’re lightning fast, and once he’s taken care of his business, we start to head back into the stands.
As we’re making our way down the steps toward our seats, a man stands up and steps out of the row in front of me. I wobble as I stop myself from crashing into him, and he chuckles, reaching out to steady me.
“Sorry.” He grins. “I should’ve made sure the coast was clear.”
“That’s alright.”
Instead of stepping back into the row to let us pass, he glances down at Jake. “Hey, cute kid.”
“Um, thanks.” I smile politely, glancing toward the ice. Jake is already watching the game raptly from where we’re standing, unbothered by the fact that we haven’t made it back to our seats yet, but I don’t want to miss anything. “He’s not mine. I’m just his nanny.”
The guy, who’s probably about my age and smells like hot dogs and beer, chuckles. “A hot nanny. Isn’t that a bit cliché?”
I blink, taken aback and a little annoyed by the fact that he seems to be simultaneously hitting on me and disparaging me. “I guess. I really just came here to watch the game.”
“Oh, right.” He glances at the ice. “You know, if you need someone to explain the rules to you, I’d be happy to?—”
A loud sound cuts him off. Several people in the audience yelp, and when I turn back to the ice, I see the plexiglass protecting the crowd shaking and Sawyer skating toward the puck—which I realize that he just hit with his best slapshot. One of the refs blows his whistle and calls out some kind of warning to Sawyer, but Sawyer barely acknowledges it.
He glances up into the stands, his gaze locking on me and the tipsy hockey bro in front of me.
My stomach flutters, a smirk tugging at my lips. There’s no fucking way that slapshot was an accident, and it definitely wasn’t an accident that it hit the glass right in front of us.
It was a warning.
Even from the ice, even with a game going on around him, he’s looking out for me, and he clearly didn’t like seeing this guy hitting on me.
I grin, shifting my focus to Hot Dog Breath, who looks a little rattled.
“You might want to sit down,” I tell him sweetly. “You know, just in case any more pucks come this way.”
“Right,” he mutters, finally moving out of my way and back into the row.
Jake and I take our seats again, and when Callie shoots me a questioning look, I just shrug.
“The bathroom took us a little longer than we thought it would,” I tell her casually.
The game continues, and now that I’m safely seated between Callie and Jake and don’t have to fend off unwanted advances from tipsy strangers, I lean forward, refocusing on the tenseaction. It’s still tied at zero, and both teams are pushing hard to take the advantage.
The players all seem keyed up, and after the next face off, the Cyclones’ center barrels through everyone else to take control of the puck, then charges down the ice like his life depends on it.