Page 117 of Revenge Puck

“I get it,” I tell her. “So, you’re going to tell Finley the truth and then let them meet?”

“I don’t know. I just…I need time to think this through!”

“Okay. If Riley meets him and bails, I’ll kill him for you.”

“Ugh! I’m so pissed at you for putting me on the spot like this.”

“I know. I really am sorry about everything.”

Poking me in the chest hard, she says, “It’s a good thing I love you. That’s the only reason I’m forgiving you.”

Her words make me wonder if the same could be true for her forgiving Christian too.

41

Elle

Being in D.C., walking around the Warhawks arena with Christian feels all wrong.

Even though it’s nearly two hours before the game starts, the place is still packed with fans who are excited that this could be it—the final game that wins the Warhawks the championship trophy.

When we give a security guard our names, he takes us down to the hallway near the locker rooms. There’s a huge open lounge for friends and family of the players, usually ones with small children. A jumbo flat screen hangs on the wall, no doubt for showing the games. Comfy chairs for nursing mothers are scattered around, along with several travel baby cribs, and a changing table. The rest of the room has toys scattered for older kids, including a picnic table full of Lego blocks, which is where Finley is playing across from Maya while Preston hovers behind them. All three are wearing matching black Lawrence jerseys, and Preston already has his full pads and skates on, ready forwarmups. Christian had to ask his coach if he could be a few minutes late, and he thankfully agreed, even though he doesn’t know why.

“Holy shit,” Christian whispers from the doorway.

“Don’t cuss,” I remind him just as Preston looks up and sees us.

“Elle?” His brow furrows in surprise until he looks between me and Christian and I know he’s assuming the worst.

Giving Christian a little tug on his arm, I lead the way over to the picnic table.

“I’m just another friend who wanted to come say hi and good luck,” I tell them. “Hey, Maya. Finley.” I give them a forced smile that Finley returns, but Maya looks frazzled, her knee bouncing uncontrollably as she eyes Christian.

“Hi, Ellie!” Finley says, then he throws his leg over the picnic bench to come over to us, arms open. I bend down and give him a hug as Preston comes over, Maya too, even though she stays half-hidden behind her brother.

“It’s good to see you again, Finley. Are you excited for the game?”

“Yep! Preston said when the Warhawks win, they’ll get to carry a big trophy.”

“That’s right,” I agree.

The boy’s eyes finally slide over to Christian. I look to Preston, who is staring at me, then at Maya, who is watching Christian through unblinking eyes. I’m waiting for one of them to make introductions, but when they both stand there silently, I decide to do it myself.

“Finley, do you remember the other day when you asked how that one Bobcats player was so fast? Number nineteen?”

He looks back at me and nods after he considers my question.

“Well, now you can ask him yourself. This is Christian Riley. He plays for the Bobcats. Number nineteen.”

Christian is frozen in place, studying Finley’s every move like he’s going to be quizzed about him later and his life depends on acing it. I elbow him in the side, causing him to finally snap out of his daze.

“Hey, um, hi, Finley.”

The boy looks up at him and asks, “You’re the player that’s really fast and steals the puck from the Warhawks?”

Christian’s gaze goes from his son to Maya and quickly back again. Clearing his throat, he nods. “Um, yeah. Sometimes I guess I’m fast.”

Finley’s head cocks. “So? How are you faster than everyone else?”

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