Page 73 of Lucky Puck

The ref blows the whistle, the puck drops, and my stick scoops the puck behind me, though my legs to where Ax waits, and he spins around and passes out to his left where I’ve skated to take his pass. I beat the defenseman, barely, and hold him off with my right shoulder as I move toward the net.

Every one of our opponents races there because the net is empty. One of their defensemen plays goalie as I push between two defensemen and with a quick mini-deke to my left, then right. All I need is one flinch from the stand-in goalie, and I get it.

I aim my wrist shot for the top corner, and it lifts up and over the man’s shoulder, past his ear, into the underside of the crossbar with a clang. I hold my breath in that heartbeat, everything in slow motion as I watch the puck deflect downward. It hits the ice, and I shoot forward and push it past the goal line before the defenseman in net sees the puck.

The goal light flashes on, and the crowd roars. My teammates crowd me and pull me up from the ice. I look for Ax and give him a hug, thumping him on the back as he laughs like a maniac.

We skate to the bench to join the rest of the team, and Sabe comes onto the ice.

He thumps my shoulder and ruffles my hair, reaching up because I’m taller than him. “As empty net goals go, that was a good one.”

I laugh, and as we skate to the tunnel, I see Coach Logan at the gate. He’s not smiling. Shit. I broke the number one rule I learned as a kid and held all through my career until now. I disobeyed coach, the hockey god on the ice.

And I’m sure now there’ll be hell to pay.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

BIANCA

When Brody arranged for a new seat as if I’d been evicted for bad manners from my old one, I thought it was a good idea. Now that I’m following a security person down the carpeted hallway to Sabien’s parents’ luxury box, I’m not so sure. They’re going to know I slapped—don’t replay it again. I’m too mixed up about whether that slap was a good thing or not. Brody thinks it was, which causes an instant smile to pop on my face.

But what will Sabien’s family think?

It doesn’t matter. Only one quick thought of the alternative—sitting next to Nora Shade for the entire game—stiffens my spine, and I plaster a grateful smile on my face that Mr. and Mrs. Dumas graciously agreed to take me in like a hockey-game orphan with no other seat available in the sold-out arena. It’s the Portsmouth Whalers' first game since the All-Star break.

The butterflies stir in my gut, and so far, I can manage the flurry. I can still talk, walk, and think in spite of my misgivings about carrying on my charade up close and personal with these kind people. I met Sabien’s wife, Cherry, once briefly at a Whalers pre-season event and remember her as a bubbly, fun animal-lover with a generous heart, especially when it comes to Sabien.

I wonder what he’s told her? Fresh panic hits me. What should I say? Should I assume she knows the secret about our fake marriage or pretend like I’m really married to Brody? Shit. I wish I could ask Brody. Translation: I wish he were here with me.

What nonsensical thoughts I’ve been reduced to.

Brody is down on the ice, doing what he loves, what he was born to do, and I’m here doing my job. That’s all this is.

My guide, a security guard, stops at a door with a brass plaque labeled Private Suite 10. He extends his arm to indicate this is my destination.

“Thank you,” I say as I manage one last flurry of butterflies—it has to be the last one. He nods, and after a brief hesitation, leaves while I hover outside the door. The noise of the crowd’s buzz from the arena below doesn’t penetrate the closed-off dark hallway where I doubt I’d even hear a pin drop, but I can feel the buzz down to my bones.

I knock.

Cherry Dumas opens the door with a welcoming smile, but she stops short when a dog—albeit the most adorable dog I’ve ever seen—leaps toward me. I take a step back in self-preservation, and Cherry quickly takes hold of the dog with two arms wrapped around her and whispering.

To me, she says, “I’m so sorry.” Then she talks to the dog. “It’s okay, Lady. She’s a friend.”

I’m more of a cat person, but I give Lady a tentative pat. Her hair is soft, and I could swear she smiles at me.

“So this is the infamous Lady. I heard the story about you being Sabien’s dogwalker—I mean Lady’s dogwalker.”

Cherry laughs. “That’s right. I’m so glad you’re joining us; come in.”

I step inside the doorway, and all eyes turn to me. Welcoming smiles light up in greeting, and Cherry puts an arm around me, sweeping me to the center of the luxurious space.

“I’m Sabien’s mother. Call me Marie. I understand you’re a newlywed. You lucky thing, married to that talented and charming young man. Sabien goes on about him—mostly good.” Her eyes twinkle. “But I don’t need to tell you about that.”

“No, you don’t.” Cherry laughs. “Let the poor girl breathe, Marie.”

“Amen to that,” Henry Dumas says, reaching for my hand for a friendly shake, but then he clasps my hand with both of his and says, “Hello, Brooks. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard your name from several of the players—all good. You’re welcome to our box any time.”

“Thank you. Everyone. This means a lot. I… had a seat, but⁠—”