Page 78 of Wild Blades

On my first game, Gretchen handed me the framed photo and told me ladybugs were a sign of good luck and it sort of became our thing.

Now she’s gone, the photo makes me feel like she’s with me at every game. And every time I see one, I get this weird feeling she’s trying to send me a message that she’s still watching over me.

I hope she is.

“Are you fucking her?” Breaking my thoughts, Zane yells in my ear as we are waiting for the referee to drop the puck.

“Who?” I shout through my mouthguard, kicking myself for acknowledging him and giving him an opening to trigger a conversation.

“Kali?”

“No.”Where the hell did he get that idea from? Shit, I must be staring at her too much.

“She’s wearing your jersey.”

And there it is. I fucking knew he would bring that up.

Like a beacon of light shone down on her, she was the first thing I saw when I skated onto the ice. She’s hosting Rory, his parents, along with two of his friends for me as part of thisMake Wade Look Like a Good Guycampaign.

If anything, she’s the one that looks good in my jersey. It’s the one she slept in and folded neatly beside her dress and the beauty products I bought for her. When she picked her stuff up on Monday from my hotel suite, she didn’t mention she was taking it. But she did, and I’m still trying to figure out if it means something.

And now she’s standing in the arena that feels like home to me, watching my every move, wearing my jersey, styled in a way only she could.

Bunched to the side, she’s tied it in a knot to cinch it around her waist, showing off her toned abs that I imagine running my tongue into the little divots of. And she’s teamed it with a pair of snug gray joggers, hems rolled up above a pair of blue and yellow Nike high tops which look new and perfectly match our Eagle team colors.

She’s a vision and I couldn’t take my eyes off her when I went over to speak to Rory and his friends before the game.

Zero small talk, straight faced, she kept it professional and yelled through the plexiglass that I was doing a meet and greet afterward with Rory before I was able to do any post-game workouts and stretching.

Turning back to the annoying dickhead next to me, I spit my mouthguard out. “She’s my publicist, Zane. Now focus on the game.”

“I’d tap that.”

Jealousy courses through my veins. “She wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” I skate away, every muscle in my body burning.

“I’m not sure that’s what she said when she slid into my DMs last night,” he yells across the ice.

Rage poisons my veins, and I turn, pull off my gloves, and throw them down. Pushing forward in his direction faster than an Olympic speed skater, I roar, “What the fuck did you just say?”

The crowd jeers and boos from the seats behind Zane, and Jordy is crashing into me, getting up in my face before I even get to throw a punch.

“Not tonight. He’s not worth it. He’s trying to provoke you; can’t you see that?” Jordy shouts in my face, sounding annoyed I didn’t listen to him in the locker room.

“He…” My temples throb with rage. There is no way in hell Kali messaged him.

He acts as a barrier between Zane and me and yells back at Zane over his shoulder. “Be a good puppy and stay in your pen.” Then Jordy grabs my face with his glove-covered hands. “Fuck him.” He pushes me backward across the ice. “Let’s win this.”

Kali appears from behind a smirking Zane on the other side of the plastic wall. Shaking her head, she shouts a firm, “No,” and I know what she means; don’t ruin what we’ve started.

My rage simmers down in an instant. It’s odd how much power she holds over me, and every time I see her, she makes me feel better. Calm.

I hold my stick up in acknowledgment, agreeing with her.

I can’t let Zane get into my head. I can’t go back to the way things were.

From the bench, Coach gives us a signaling nod of his head.

“He wants us to try that new pass.” Jordy taps his stick on the ice a couple of times.

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