Page 61 of The Game Plan

“A dragon and a wedding ring in the same week, Jax Harris? Be careful, I might not want to leave.”

I forget myself for a second, forgetting that it’s not only us in this store but staff who can eavesdrop.

Thankfully, Jax pulls it back for our minion marriage. “That’s the idea, baby,” he says.

Then I whisper, “You’ll make someone a fine husband one day, Jax. I mean, once you’ve learned some home etiquette and at least doubled your mental age.”

He guffaws, startling Katherine across the counter, but not me. I’m getting used to that hugely loud laugh. It’s kind of a kick to draw it out of him.

For some reason, my mind flashes to Carl, who I could never make laugh. Severity, seriousness, work ethic and life objectives, that’s what we shared. Laughter? No. Rarely or never.

“Sienna, I’m sorry, but I don’t have that ring in stock in your size,” Katherine says, interrupting us.

“Oh, ah, that’s okay, I like the other⁠—”

“When could you get it in?” Jax asks.

Katherine checks her computer. “Only a couple of weeks.” She beams as I feel my body deflate.

Jax’s arm comes around my shoulder in a way I wouldn’t have asked for but it’s welcome because I suddenly am sad. My bubble, our bubble, has been popped.

This isn’t real and the universe is reminding me of it. In eight weeks, I’ll be on an airplane back to Canada and filing for divorce.

“We’ll take the other option,” Jax says. “We both like it.”

What does it matter? This was Jax’s condition anyway. He wants to keep up appearances, that’s all tonight is about, even if it has been fun to feel like the star of my own movie for a few hours.

25

OCTOBER

Jax

Carolina

It’s a strange sensation playing hockey with a ring on my finger, still, after two weeks of wearing it. I’ve always played with a chain around my neck – one my parents bought for me when my high school team won a championship. It doesn’t have any deep symbolism; it only serves as a reminder of that win and the trajectory my hockey career was taking from that point on. Honestly, girls have always found it sexy, especially in bed, when they tend to touch it or hook a finger into it as they pull me over them. The chain is more of a superstitious thing these days; what happens if I don’t wear it under my sweater?

My wedding ring feels different.

I’ve taped it for safety under my gloves like the regulations dictate, but I can feel it. It’s changing the way I hold my stick. It sounds crazy but I think it’s making me skate faster, pass the puck with more accuracy, and shoot it harder. It’s not uncommon for my game to be on fire but tonight, I’m setting Carolina ablaze.

We’re midway through the second period, already four goals to one up, and I’ve scored two contenders for goal of the season. I swing my legs over the boards and drop into the game on the fly. Tray passes me the puck – slips it behind him as he heads off the ice.

Zach is open on the wing, I send the puck his way and advance, finding space in the center of the ice. Both teams are making changes to their lines and there’s space for me to move the puck around. I pass it off again to Zach and receive it back, taking on Carolina’s defenseman, who pushes me out to the boards. I give him a heavy nudge into the glass for his troubles, then spin away from him, moving the puck back and forth.

None of my team are free but there’s only one defenseman and a goal tender between me and the net. I’m one of the best skaters in the league, especially tonight, so I take him on with confidence, drawing him in, forcing him to make a move for the puck as I get closer to the goal line.

He thrusts out a stick in that overly eager way rookies can, and I’m laughing as I skirt around him and drill the puck past the goalie and into the side netting.

Hat trick!

I fly by the goal, dropping to one knee as I fist the air. Our travelling supporters cheer. My teammates maul me.

I stay on for the face-off and win it, knocking the puck to Gronkowski before I make to leave the ice. With half an eye on the game, I seek out Sienna, nestled amongst the broadcasters, and she’s beaming at me.

I take off my glove and hold up my left hand, fourth finger, trying to tell her my new ring gave me superpowers. But in the way pride comes before a fall, I’m suddenly slammed into the board, right in front of my team. It’s not a move targeted at me; I’m caught in the crosshairs of Carolina taking out Gronkowski, two grown-ass men walloping me at speed, when I’m not braced for it.

As they continue on, I drag myself off the ice, with the help of my teammates, and sit on the bench, where the arena comes in and out of focus.