Page 42 of Broken As Puck

“Chelsey!” he called after me.

I kept running.

Chapter Fourteen

CHELSEY

I squeezed between a couple of people blocking my path to the documentary crew, who had set up a station behind where the players’ partners usually sat during games. I’d met most of the additional members of the filming crew at this point, but I didn’t recognize the short, stocky man standing with Max and Patrick.

A young boy ran across in front of me, heading for the concession stand, and I stopped abruptly so as not to walk into him. From behind, his mother sent me a look of gratitude. Even though the stands weren’t full yet, it was already busy. The air smelled like fast food but with faint metallic and chemical undertones.

I breathed it in. So familiar. I loved it.

Max waved as he caught sight of me. “Chelsey, this is my brother, Lance. He’s going to be manning one of the cameras tonight.”

Lance offered me his hand and I shook it, looking him in the eyes and noting that he appeared quite a bit younger than Max—or perhaps he’d simply spent less time in the sun and was therefore less weathered.

“Nice to meet you,” I said politely.

“Likewise.”

I turned back to Max. “Do you have everything you need?”

He nodded. “We’re ready to go at any time. Thanks for doing what you can to make our jobs easier.”

“No worries.” I didn’t mention that they might have had more preparation time if I hadn’t been avoiding Matt. No need for them to be made aware of that. I gestured at the people gathered on the benches nearby. “Would you like me to introduce you to the players’ partners and families?”

“That would be fantastic.”

“You can’t interview them today, though, because they haven’t been given the opportunity to sign consent forms,” I warned.

“I understand. We’ll have to get that in place prior to the next home game.”

Lance jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll return to my camera.”

I watched him go. “Is he a fan of the team too?”

Max laughed. “No, that traitor shifted his allegiance to Detroit a few years back. If these guys put in a good showing, he might consider changing that, but I think it’ll take either going to the playoffs or having a few decent years before that happens.”

“I get it.” Many fans would probably be the same way. The die hard loyal fans stuck with a team through thick and thin, but the majority would reconsider who they supported only when they were shown that they had a viable long-term alternative. I motioned toward one of the women sitting nearby. “Let me introduce you to Maribel.”

Max followed a few steps behind me as I shuffled around people, guiding him to the Taylor family. Brian Taylor’s wife, Maribel, glanced up as we approached and smiled. She was a pretty Latinx woman with warm brown eyes and flawless skin.

“Hi, Mari,” I said when we were close enough to be heard over the background buzz. I’d met Maribel a week earlier, when she’d dropped by to collect the keys that her husband had accidentally taken. She was friendly and forthright, both traits I liked in a person.

Maribel waved. “Chelsey, it’s so good to see you again!”

“Same to you.” I gestured to Max. “This is Max. He’s part of the crew filming a documentary about the team. Max, this is Maribel Taylor. She’s married to Brian Taylor, and they have a couple of kids together.” I gazed at the little boy who was clinging to her knee. With his big, brown eyes and mussed hair, he truly was adorable.

They exchanged greetings, but before Max could explain that they’d like the partners to consider being interviewed in the future—even if the recordings didn’t make it into the final cut—Maribel called over a few other people.

“Chelsey, have you met everyone?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

She grinned. “In that case, I’m sure they’d all like to thank you for the spectacular photos of our men from the shelter fundraiser. I had the picture of Brian printed, and it’s now framed on the fridge. There’s just something so sexy about men holding cute animals.”

“That was your idea?” a tall, thin blonde asked.