The game started fifteen minutes ago, which means I should be alone. Thankfully. I swipe the card and trudge inside. The room is nicer than I thought it would be. Two queen beds, the drapes pulled back to reveal a beautiful view of the ski mountain.
I text Willow to let her know I’m back and contemplating crashing.
Willow
There’s a sky bridge on the third floor that will take you to the stadium. Paris is taking attendance and has already asked where you are.
I groan and turn right back around.
Five minutes later, I’m in the stadium. Luckily, Willow waits for me right on the other side of the booths, and she hands the guy my ticket. I smile at her as he allows me through.
“How was it?” she asks. “Did he tell you anything good?”
My smile wobbles. I don’t know whether to feel hopeful or defeated. Right now, the two emotions are warring in my head—and defeat is winning.
“Oh, no.” She stops us. “Do you need a hug? Or a distraction? Or—”
“Distraction,” I manage. “Definitely a distraction.”
She nods. “Okay, well, let’s go watch the Hawks kick some Knights’ ass, right?” She lets out a loud whoop, drawing some stares.
The Knights are red and white, and the attendees all wear those colors. We work our way around the outside of the stadium, passing kiosks selling popcorn, beer, ice cream.
“Wow,” I mutter. “We got the good view in our room, huh?”
She shakes her head. “This town is crazy for hockey.”
I don’t bother to acknowledge that Crown Point is, too. We just hide our crazy a little better.
We find our seats, and I catch Paris rotating back to count heads. I wiggle my fingers in her direction, and she scowls.
“She takes her job seriously, huh?”
Willow snickers. “The girls have been pushing back on her as dance captain, so she’s gotta get her kicks somewhere.”
“How is that anyway?”
“Dance?” She seems taken aback. We’ve been going by the policy oflet’s just not talk about it. In the beginning, I wanted to know everything. The new routines, the new people. Even though I wasn’t in Crown Point, I felt like I had to keep being a part of it. And then, further into my recovery, I realized that things weren’t going my way.
Obviously, I have no problem continuing my friendship with half the girls on the team. When you’re in it, you eat and breathe and sleep dance team. They’re my circle of friends. And somehow, they’ve managed to make me feel like the same girl who showed up to practice with them every day without ever talking about it.
Maybe they conferred with Willow before I came back. My best friend is astute and a good judge of character—unless a guy is involved—so she probably would’ve been able to toss anyone negative out.
“There you are,” Amanda greets me. “You haven’t missed much. Just a lot of blustering.”
Six rows down, the hockey players whizz past our seats. I try to spot Greyson, but I don’t see him immediately. It takes a minute for me to orient myself with their royal-blue jerseys, striped with silver, versus the mostly white jerseys of the Knights, accented with red lettering. At home games, the Hawks wear their light-colored uniforms.
Miles is in the net. Steele and Jacob skate in front of him, coming out to defend against the Knights’ offensive line. One of their players has the puck, and he speeds toward our side. Jacob intercepts him, and the two collide. They both go down.
A whistle blows.
Immediately, the Knights player hops up. He seems steaming mad, his teeth gritted, and he shoves Jacob. Our defenseman slides backward, then narrows his eyes and rushes forward. Jacob grabs the Knight by the front of his jersey and yanks his helmet off—and uses it to smash the guy in the face.
I lean forward in my seat. Chaos breaks out.
I catch a glimpse of the blue jersey withDevereuxon the back rushing into the fray.
The refs blast their whistles and dive into the middle of the fight. After a few painstaking seconds, the players are all separated. Jacob lost his helmet, too, and grins at the Knights with a bloody smile.