Page 49 of Across the Boards

“Just follow my lead with the silverware,” I advise. “And maybe don’t drink red wine, just to be safe.”

“See? Already saving me from social disaster.” He grins at me. “We make a good team, Waltman.”

As we pull away from our townhomes, heading toward an evening filled with uncertainty, I’m surprised to find myself smiling back.

“Maybe we do, Carter. Maybe we do.”

10

BRODY

I’ve been punched in the face fourteen times in my professional career. I’ve blocked shots with every part of my body, including once with my face. I played an entire playoff game with a hairline fracture in my wrist that felt like someone was driving nails into my bones every time I took a hit.

And yet somehow, walking into this charity gala with Elliot Waltman on my arm is more nerve-wracking than any of those things.

She looks incredible. The burgundy dress hugs her curves in a way that makes it physically painful to keep my eyes at an appropriate level. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, and there’s a confidence in her posture that wasn’t there when I picked her up. As if with each step toward the hotel ballroom, she’s rebuilding her armor, preparing for battle.

Which, in a way, she is.

“You okay?” I ask quietly as we hand over our tickets at the entrance.

“Ask me again in an hour,” she replies with a tight smile. “Preferably after I’ve had at least one glass of champagne.”

“I’ll get you two,” I promise, placing my hand lightly on her lower back as we enter the ballroom.

The space is transformed from when I saw it during setup earlier in the week. Sarah’s centerpieces—hockey sticks arranged with flowers in team colors—dominate each table, while twinkling lights crisscross the ceiling like stars. A band plays soft jazz in one corner, and well-dressed hockey players and their partners mingle with team executives and sponsors.

I feel Elliot tense beside me as several heads turn in our direction.

“We can still leave,” I murmur. “My calf cramp performance is ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

That earns me a genuine smile. “I’m fine. Just... processing.”

“Process all you need. I’ll be right here.”

Her eyes meet mine, filled with something that makes my heart stutter. “I know you will.”

Before I can respond, Tommy appears, looking uncomfortable in his tux but grinning widely.

“You made it!” he exclaims, clapping me on the shoulder before turning to Elliot. “And you look amazing. Sarah’s going to be thrilled you actually wore the dress she picked.”

“As if I had any choice in the matter,” Elliot replies dryly.

“Fair point. My wife is a benevolent dictator at best.” Tommy glances around. “Speaking of, she’s over by the silent auction tables, having a meltdown because someone arranged the bid sheets in alphabetical order instead of by item number.”

“That sounds like a Sarah emergency,” Elliot agrees. “Should we go provide moral support?”

“Probably safer to keep our distance until the situation is resolved,” Tommy advises. “I was sent to fetch more champagne for her ‘nerves.’”

“Smart man,” I say. “Self-preservation is the better part of valor.”

“Exactly.” He lowers his voice. “Though I should warn you—Matthews and Kelly are here. They still text Jason regularly.”

I feel Elliot stiffen beside me but admire how her expression barely flickers. “Thanks for the heads up,” she says calmly. Only the slight tightening of her hand on my arm betrays her tension.

“No problem. I’ll run interference if needed.” Tommy glances toward the bar. “I should get that champagne before Sarah stages a coup. See you guys in a bit.”

As he walks away, I turn to Elliot. “Champagne? Or something stronger?”

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