Page 102 of Slapshot Bride

I lie awake.

I look at the ceiling, and I look at the top of her head.

I need to tell her the truth before Maya gets to her. But for now, I’ll enjoy this bliss. Let her rediscover herself and fully settle back into the world. Her newfound freedom.

Then, after this season comes to an end, I’ll tell her. I’ll also have found a way to handle Maya by then.

She sighs against my chest. Her hand tightens on my ribs, and her leg shifts across mine, and she says something in her sleep that sounds like a piece of a sentence, and I close my eyes.

Whatever comes next, I will take.

I will take whatever she can give, for as long as she will give it.

20

RILEY

Home Ice

The arena is loud.

That is the first thing I notice, walking through the family entrance with the pass Easton clipped to my jacket in the parking garage, my camera in one hand and my phone in the other.

My chest rises and falls with every step, a nervous smile on my face.

It’s my first time officially appearing in public. And with Easton. Before his fans and everyone else who knows him.

I’m reeling from that knowledge, but at the same time, my stomach tingles.

The sound of the arena at forty minutes to puck-drop isn't what I thought it would be. It’s a specific hum, low and enormous. Vendors are calling. Skates are cutting the ice below through some invisible tunnel. Someone is testing a microphone.

Easton walked me here early on purpose. He said the family section fills up in the last twenty minutes, and he did not want me making an entrance.

He clipped the pass to my jacket in the garage, put his hand on the back of my neck, and said, “You are going to love this.” Then he kissed my temple and disappeared down a corridor toward the locker room.

I take the stairs up to the family section alone.

It’s a small tiered block behind the bench, glass at the front, twelve or fifteen seats. Two of them are filled, both women I don't know, both of whom glance up, smile, and go back to their phones.

I climb to the top row, pick a seat, set my camera on my lap, and look down at an ice rink from above for the first time in my life.

The ice is enormous.

I sit with the quiet of an almost-empty arena for a while. The Zamboni is doing its last pass. A tech is checking the goal cameras. I lift my camera, frame the empty rink through the glass, and take one shot just to see what the light is doing. From this angle, the shot is clean. I take three more.

The section fills up around me.

Quinn arrives twenty minutes before warm-ups, with Emma on her hip and a small paper tray of nachos in her free hand.

“Riley. Good. First-game nerves are real. Also, I hate eating alone in public. Here.”

She hands me the nachos and lowers Emma into the seat between us. Emma immediately climbs into my lap.

“Oh.”

“She has been asking about you all week.”

“Aww…” I hold Emma to my chest and lightly kiss her temple. That earns me a giggle.