Page 68 of Cross Ice

“Name?” the woman behind the window asked.

“Evan Beckett.”

She rifled through a box and pulled out an envelope. “Here you go.”

I opened the envelope to find the ticket and a lanyard with a laminated pass that said ALL ACCESS in bold letters.

This was real. I was actually doing this.

I moved with the crowd toward the entrance, showed my ticket at the checkpoint, and stepped inside.

The concourse hit me all at once, a sensory overload of sights, sounds, and smells. Conversations echoed off the walls. Music blasted from speakers. The smell of popcorn, beer, pizza, and hot dogs wafted from the concession stands.

It was overwhelming, exhilarating, and I had no idea where I was going.

I checked my ticket. Section 101, Row 8, Seat 4.

Signs led me to Section 101. The moment I stepped through the doorway, I saw the ice.

It was massive. Bright white under the lights, pristine and gleaming. The cold air from the rink cut through my sweatshirt, making me shiver.

People were already filling the seats around the arena, and I counted down to Row 8. My seat was just above the players’ bench on center ice, with an incredible view of the entire rink.

I sat down and immediately felt like an imposter.

Around me, other people were settling in, mostly women, but also some older couples who looked like parents. Everyone seemed to know each other, chatting and laughing. I felt completely out of place.

A woman in the seat next to me turned and smiled. She was maybe thirty, with dark hair pulled into a ponytail and a friendly face.

“Hi! I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Chloe Walker. My husband’s Jonah, he plays right wing.”

“Evan. Nice to meet you.”

She glanced at my seat. “You’re in Nico’s seat, right?”

“Yeah. He invited me.”

“First game?”

“First time here in person. I’ve watched on TV.”

“Oh, that’s so fun! How do you know Nico?”

The question hung in the air, and I remembered Nico’s words. Tell them the truth.

I took a breath. “We’re together. Dating.”

Chloe’s face broke into a warm smile. “That’s wonderful! Nico’s a great guy. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Relief flooded through me. “Thanks. I’m a little nervous. I don’t really know hockey that well.”

“Oh, I’ll help! Ask me anything. After nine years as a WAG, I’d better know my stuff.” She grinned.

“A… WAG?”

“Wives and girlfriends. That’s what they call us. Though…” She glanced at me, eyes twinkling. “I suppose we’ll need to update that now. Wives, girlfriends… and boyfriends. WAGABs?”

Heat flooded my face and warmed my chest. She’d said it so easily, so naturally. Like I was one of them. Like I belonged.