Page 176 of On the Breakaway

I’m tempted to ask why, but that kind of conversation in a sea of waving rally towels and shouting fans doesn’t seem like a good idea.

My eyes scan the ice, only to see that he’s still not on it yet.

Wesley bumps my shoulder. “Going from our game yesterday in Philadelphia with less than one thousand in attendance to this kind of fanfare is actually insane.”

We’d won in Philly, getting us back on a winning streak that we desperately needed, not only for the record, but to save my legs from sprinting more suicides tomorrow at practice.

I bump her back. “And this kind of fanfare is nothing to the kind of attention you’ll get when you’re in the World Cup one day.”

Her cheeks flush, but I can tell that she gets a little lost in the dream.

Music pounds through the speakers while highlights from the first two games flash across the giant scoreboard overhead.

Harper starts talking about some restaurant she wants all of us to try during our next girls’ night, but I don’t even process the name.

Damon’s taking shots at the far end of the rink. My stomach tightens briefly, but the feeling disperses almost as quickly as it came. Last year, seeing him would have ruined my night. Now, my eyes kept drifting somewhere else entirely.

Grayson steps onto the ice, and the composure he maintains off the ice translates to complete and total control on it.

A coach stops him, and another player joins the conversation. Then Grayson breaks away, only to have two other teammates stop to talk to him. Even from up here, it’s obvious how naturally everyone gravitates toward him.

Myself included.

The thought appears before I can stop it, causing heat to creep up my neck. I take a sip of my drink and force myself to look somewhere else.

I hold out for approximately three seconds before my eyes find him again. He’s laughing about something one of his teammates says as they skate toward center ice.

“Avery, are you even listening?” Sloane asks from beside me.

“What?” I start, turning toward her. “No, sorry. I wasn’t.”

“Do you want to go out after the game?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Maybe you can teach me your ways.”

Four months ago, it would’ve been the easiest answer in the world. Every single part of me wanted to get out of my head.

But now?

I just want to go home with Grayson.

“I’m probably going to call it an early night, actually.”

She groans.

I’m at peace with my choice. The comfort I feel when he’s with me is better than any drunken hookup ever was.

A couple of days ago, I almost told him that too.

He’d been cooking me breakfast in a way that seemed more domestic than I ever thought I’d be comfortable with. But I watched him anyway, not a single fear circling my head. The words had been right there.

Then my dad called and reminded me exactly why opening yourself up to someone is dangerous. Neither of my parents has ever healed from the damage their relationship caused. Nobody gets married expecting to spend the next twenty years trying to hurt each other.

So, I chickened out.

The starting lineup flashes across the giant screen overhead.

Beside me, Wesley sits forward in her seat while Sloane laughs about something stupid Wyatt did on the ice.

They call off the players, one by one, and when I hear his name announced, I catch myself shifting forward, eyes locking on him as he skates in a circle around the ice.