“It’s thrilling, isn’t it?” she asks with a silly grin. “Watching your man out there, battling for every inch of ice?”
I scan the arena, noting Kane’s currently on the bench while the third line has the ice. It’s halfway through the second period, and the Vengeance is up by one goal. Kane has played well tonight, but his ice time has been limited. After all, pre-season is about testing those who are questionable to decide on the final team cut. Kane played so well during the playoffs that his spot is virtually guaranteed.
At least, that’s my thought.
But it is thrilling to be here. Kane gave me a jersey with his name on the back, which I’m proudly wearing. In all the years I’ve been his best friend and a fan of his, I’ve never had a jersey. But it was clearly important to him that I wear it tonight, and now I wonder how I ever went without. In fact, I’m not sure if I’ll ever want to take it off.
“You’re still good for tomorrow night?” Clarke asks, nudging me from my other side.
“Damn straight,” I reply.
We have a girls’ night planned. I’m touched to be invited because it won’t be the average girls’ night. We’re not going to be going out for drinks, dinner, and maybe a little clubbing.
Nope.
Blue has invited us girls over to her house—although I’m told it’s actually a mega-mansion—for a sleepover. There will be food and alcohol. Probably be our own type of clubbing right there in the house, but it’s going to be done in pajamas.
I mean… it’s like an adult pajama party.
It’s the most ridiculous and yet awesome thing I’ve heard about. I’m excited. I’ve had friends before, but never a close girlfriend. Once Kane filled the role of my bestie, I didn’t need anyone else to hang with or confide to. I was happy having lots of acquaintances and cool friends to go out with now and again. Once I was on the road, I enjoyed meeting people and hanging out at campsites.
But I’ve never, ever had girlfriends I wanted to be close to. To share things with.
And yet, I know these are the girls. I’ve had a lot of one-on-one time with each, as well as together in small groups—especially since my potential Matthew sighting—but this will be the first time we’ve all hung out together for an extended period. I’m psyched.
“What’s Kane doing tomorrow night? Aaron asked him to come over to our place to hang, but he said he had plans.”
For a moment, I wonder if I should keep this secret to myself, but then I figure I can trust these girls. I motion Clarke to come a little closer. “So… Kane and Jim are planning to follow Ella tomorrow night. She supposedly has a date, and Jim wants to get a read on the guy.”
“But why?” Clarke asks, brows drawn inward.
I give her a wicked smile. “Because he’s made up his mind he wants to get his wife back, and he wants to see what he’s up against.”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Clarke exclaims, a little too gleefully. Loud, too.
Nora’s attention snaps our way—Blue and Brooke’s, too. “What’s going on?”
I huddle the women in—each taking periodic glances at the action on the ice—and explain Kane and Jim’s reconnaissance mission tomorrow.
“Oh my God,” Brooke exclaims, covering her wide grin. “That’s priceless.”
“It’s adorable,” Blue chirps. “I didn’t think Jim would ever do anything like that, but right on.”
“What’s Ella like?” I ask. I mean… is this effort going to be worth it?
“She’s great,” Brooke says. “She and Jim married young because she got pregnant with Lucy. She was a stay-at-home mom for a while, but once Lucy started school, Ella went to college and got a degree in graphic design. She works for an ad agency based in New York, but she works from home.”
“Impressive,” I murmur. “Anyone know why they broke up?”
All the women sort of shrug, but Brooke says, “We haven’t really hung out with her. She’s always so busy between Lucy and work, and now with juggling most of the work raising Lucy when Jim’s on season because of his travel.”
“Well, whatever the reason, I know it’s never too late to amend and make things right,” Nora says. She should know as she’s a therapist.
“I’m rooting for them for sure,” Blue says.
Before anyone can reply, the buzzer goes off, the Vengeance crowd erupts, and we realize we missed a goal.
“Who scored?” Brooke calls as we surge to our feet and start cheering. The second line is on the ice, huddled in a small group in front of the visiting net, giving pats on the helmet to someone in the middle.
Shit! What if it was Kane and I missed it?
Our gazes fly to the jumbotron screen above the ice when a replay comes on. It’s a slow-motion nearside view of a breakaway.