Page 140 of Wild Card 13

People stood two deep along the upper concourse behind the final row of seats. Local reporters had claimed an entire platform near center ice. Camera operators adjusted equipment beneath the press box while an announcer tested the microphone, his voice rolling through the building in broken pieces.

“Lucy.”

I turned.

Marion Burns stood several yards away beneath a sign marking Section 114, one hand lifted above the crowd. A stainless-steel thermos was tucked against her side beneath one arm, and two knitted scarves hung over the other.

Relief moved through me before I could stop it. Not because I had been worried about finding the seats. Because Marion always looked like the person you found when everything else became too loud.

“There you are.” She reached us and swiftly pulled me into a hug, pressing her cheek briefly against my cold hair. “I was beginning to think the parking lot swallowed you.” Marion laughed at herself and drew Naomi into a hug too. “I’m glad you came, honey.”

“Lucy promised snacks.”

“Well, good,” Marion said. “Ruth brought enough food for the county.”

“Wonderful!”

Marion turned toward me again and wrapped one of the scarves around my neck before I could object. Navy wool settled over my coat, warm from wherever she had been carrying it.NORTHBENDhad been stitched across one end in white thread.

“You don’t have to keep dressing me,” I told her.

“You came into a hockey arena wearing green.”

“It is a coat.”

“It is the wrong coat.”

Naomi nodded solemnly. “She embarrassed us both.”

“You are also wearing green.”

“I’m not dating the star player.”

Heat climbed into my cheeks so quickly that Marion’s smile softened. That had been happening since my birthday. Not the blushing. Unfortunately, Ty had been causing that for years. The noticing.

Every time someone said his name, my body remembered something before my mind could stop it. The careful pressure of his hands at my waist. His breath against my skin. The quiet break in his voice when he told me he loved me. The way he had looked at me afterward, almost startled by the fact that I was still there.

We had talked about it the following afternoon during the twenty-three minutes we managed to steal inside Betsy before his practice. Not in detail. Neither of us had been capable of that without becoming painfully awkward.

No regrets.

No pretending it had been casual.

No acting as though saying I love you had belonged only to the dark.

Ty had kissed me slowly afterward, one hand resting against the side of my neck, and asked twice whether I was sure I was okay.

Then he had looked so relieved when I said yes that something inside me had settled.

Now Marion studied me for half a second longer than usual.

I resisted the urge to touch my face. There was no possible way mothers could tell. Probably.

Her expression remained warm but oddly thoughtful as she looped her arm through mine. “Come on. Your grandmother has been defending your seats like property rights are involved.”

“My grandmother?”

Marion gave me a small squeeze. “You know what I mean.”