Page 11 of Cloudless
Posey shifts in her booster seat behind me. “Calm your horses, Jas. We’re almost there.”
I roll my lips to contain my laugh as I let off the brake to roll forward. “Do you meanholdyour horses, Ladybug?”
I can practically hear her eyes roll. “No. You can’tholda horse. They’re too big!”
My eyes flash to hers in the rearview mirror. “Right. Of course. What a silly suggestion.”
“There it is! There’s the rink!” Jasper’s seat belt locks tight with a mechanical click as he strains to see through the windshield. “Look how big it is, Lulu!”
The awe in his voice brings a smile to my face as I follow the line of cars into the parking lot. “Pretty cool, huh, Jellybean?”
“The coolest!” His seat belt clicks open as I swing into a parking space that bigger vehicles have clearly passed up, leaving the perfect spot for my tiny Corolla. I can’t even be mad about the prints he’ll inevitably leave behind as he plasters his face to the window. His voice is so soft I almost miss his mumbled, “Wow.”
I clear my throat to keep the emotions at bay. “You guys ready to go?”
Jasper’s wide eyes never leave the rink as he says, “So ready!”
Jasper bounces on his toes as we wait in line at will-call. He cranes his neck to catch glimpses into the rink through the crowd passing by. “Where do you think our seats are?”
“I don’t know, Jellybean.” A quick glance at my watch lets me know we’re cutting it close on time. My eyes bore into the back of the lady's head in line ahead of us.
Come on. Come on.
I don’t even try to contain my sigh of relief as she moves away with a smile on her face.
The middle-aged woman at the desk never looks away from the stack of tickets in front of her as she says, “Name?”
“Oh, um, Jasper Sullivan.”
I shift on my feet as her neatly trimmed nails sift through the tickets with practiced ease. Her words are almost robotic as she hands me our three tickets secured together with a pink rubber band. “Enjoy the game.”
The thick paper feels smooth against my chilled fingers as her mumbled, “Name?” to the next customer fades into the chatter of the busy space.Maybe gloves weren’t such a bad idea after all.
Posey snatches the pink rubber band before I’ve gotten it fully off the tickets. She secures it around her wrist as we move to the side to examine our tickets. My eyebrows raise as I take in our seat number and section. “This can’t be right.”
Jasper snatches the tickets from my hand before I can examine them further. “Front row seats? No way! Come on! Let’s go!”
His fingers feel warm against mine as he pulls us toward our section. I grasp Posey’s hand tightly in mine before she can get lost in the crowd. “Slow down, Jas.”
He shakes his head as he leads us through the sea of people. “No way! They’re probably already warming up!”
The tight chatter of the hall gives way to distant murmurs as we emerge through the tunnel leading into the rink. My eyes bulge as I struggle to take in the space that’s a far cry from the community rink. “Holy shit.”
Jasper grins over his shoulder as Posey mutters, “That’s a dollar in the swear jar when we get home.”
I tilt back my head to look at the gigantic screen hanging over the center of the rink. Photos of the players flash on the screen along with their numbers, positions, and age.
I stumble on the top stair leading down to our seats as Kam appears on the screen. His chocolate eyes stare into my very soul. His posture highlights his intimidating presence as a formidable opponent to any player unlucky enough to face him.
The red number 23 stands out against the white jersey on his chest. As his photo disappears to be replaced by the next player, my eyes focus on the number 23 plastered on my brother's back as he makes his way down the stairs in front of me.
The crowd roars as soon as we find our seats. That’s when I see him. I wouldn’t need to know what number he is to find him.
He’s magnificent, gliding effortlessly across the ice. Someone of his size should not be this graceful balancing on thin blades, but he looks like a dancer out there.
The fifteen minutes of warmups pass by in a blur. My eyes are held captive by the fluidity of his movements. By the sheer beauty that is Kam Stryker.
Jasper presses his face against the glass in front of us as we watch the team do a last lap around the rink.
