Page 65 of Revenge Puck

“Sure, thing. Even though I doubt Elle is going to spend much time in either,” she answers with a smile.

Preston:Let me know when your flight gets in. I’ll try to pick you up from the airport.

Elle:No way! It’ll be so late I’ll have to get an Uber straight to the arena. All you need to think about is losing game three.

Preston:I believe you meant ‘winning’ game three. And I wanted to see you before, but if your flight comes in late…

Elle: I’m sure. There will be plenty of time for me to see you after you lose.

Preston:Your ticket’s at Will Call. I’ll call you after our win to see about where to meet up.

Elle:Deal. Good luck. Don’t get into any fights.

Preston:I’ll try my best.

Game day in our arena takes some of the pressure off my shoulders. The home crowd cheering gets all the guys hyped, myself included.

And when Riley and his teammates skate onto the ice to warmup, the familiar rage feels further away because Elle will be here any minute. She changed her schedule to come to my hometown, to support me tonight.

When Riley comes up to me, like I knew the prick would, I tell him, “Stop texting Elle. She doesn't want anything to do with you. How many ways do we have to tell you?”

“I'll win her back eventually, just like I’ll be winning the championship trophy. Just wait and see.”

Ignoring his bullshit confidence, I say, “I can't wait to see her in my seats tonight. Did she ever travel to any of your games? I'm guessing no, since having her there would've stopped you from being able to fuck around behind her back.”

“Elle’s coming here?” he asks, his eyes widening in surprise. He glances around to where he knows my seats are, where Maya and Finley are already seated next to an empty one. After a long moment, he asks, “Then where is she?”

“Her flight must be running late.”

“Yeah, right. Maybe she’s just bored and had enough of waiting because of your stupid rule. She’s insatiable. Trust me, I would know.”

I don’t respond to that taunt, just flip him off and get my head back in the game.

21

Elle

My flight thankfully doesn’t have any delays. I have an hour to get checked in at the hotel and drop my luggage off, then get to the Warhawks arena with my new sign with barely ten minutes to spare.

The incredible center ice, front row seat ticket is waiting for me at Will Call as expected.

And while I assumed I would feel like an outsider as I head inside the arena in Preston’s jersey, several people wave and smile at me like they know me.

I guess they may have seen me in photos too, but unlike the Bobcats’ fans, they’re all friendly and supportive of the two of us together. A few even tell me how great Preston’s been playing thanks to me. I refuse to take the credit for his hockey performance, but I tell them thanks.

Not a single negative comment is made to my face as I take my seat right in front of the glass, directly across from the benches. My seat is on the end of the row again, thankfully, andthe raven-haired woman in the seat next to mine is staring and grinning at me so intensely it freaks me out.

“Hi,” I say to be nice as I lower my butt down and prop my sign against the wall in front of us.

“Hi!” she replies cheerfully, lifting her hand to even give me a little wave, which is when I notice the number twenty-two on her sleeves of her Warhawks jersey.

“You’re a Preston Lawrence fan too?”

“Oh, the two of us are his entire fan club right here,” she says, throwing an arm around the shoulders of the little boy in the seat on the other side of her. “Isn’t that right, Finley?”

“Uh-huh.” He absently gives a nod as he tosses popcorn into his mouth from the big bucket on his lap while watching the rival mascots do a skit on the ice.

Preston’s fan club, huh? Is she a puck bunny? And why does the kid sort of look like a tiny Preston with slightly lighter hair color?

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