Page 83 of Breaking Point
“Oh, nice! God knows he needs a good one. I swear this past year he’s gone through them like bowling pins.”
I can’t help but snort. “Well, hopefully he’ll keep me around for a while.”
“Asher hasn’t shut up about how happy Crawford suddenly is. I have no doubt that’s because of you.”
Her words jar me so much my head snaps to her with bewilderment, but her focus is on the mascots dancing around the rink.
This is fake, I remind myself.You are not dating him so you are not the source of his happiness.
This is all fake.
“Has he told you much about the players?” she asks, onto the next topic already.
Grateful for the change, my eyes roam the arena. “Not much outside of names, but I’ve met Kieran.”
Cindy snorts before munching on a handful of sour worms. “Did he hit on you?”
I cock my head, trying to recall, and then my eyebrows rise. “Yes actually. The first time we met, but he’s mellowed out now.” I frown. “All he does is eat Grayson’s cereal.”
“Asher’s too. The man has a supersonic radar for cereal. I hide ours before he comes over but every time he still finds it like a sniffer dog.”
A small chuckle tumbles from my lips. The tension in my body loosens with every second that passes in her company. She reminds me a lot of Layla in the sense that she’s easy to talk to.
“Anyone else I should be wary of?”
She grimaces. “Plenty. It’s more so the rookies. They’re still in their era of soaking up all the fame. It gets to their egos pretty quickly but I find by their second year the newness has worn off.” She bumps my shoulder. “But don’t worry. For athletes, this team is full of great guys.”
The arena lights dim, and then strobe lights start flashing. Cindy grins at me. “Ever been to a hockey game before?”
“Never.”
She whistles under her breath. “You’re in for a night of entertainment, let me put it that way.”
The announcer’s voice fills the arena, his fast-paced speech barely understandable through the crackling rumble of the speakers, and yet it’s easy to follow as a spotlight shines on a tunnel across the rink.
A sea of men skate out, all adorned in green. The crowd cheers, die-hard fans traveling to watch their favorite team play.
Ice settles in my veins.
I suppose my father is watching this game.
Shivers wrack my body at the thought.
“Cold?” Cindy asks, already moving for her purse at her feet.
Clutching her arm, I wave her off. “It’s okay! Was just a gust of cold air. I’m fine now.”
“Are you sure? I can get?—”
Screams pierce my ears. Cindy and I flinch at the same time as the squeals threaten to make us deaf. Lifting my head, I find out why. Black-and-white jerseys have entered the arena, IceHawks skating through the rink, waving to fans and making them scream.
Cindy rubs her ears. “You never get used to that part, though.” She frowns down at her bag. “I always forget to bring earplugs.”
I take in the group of men stretching, seeking out Grayson. I should have googled his jersey number. I’ve done his laundry for weeks now, how do I still not know his jersey number?
Until I do.
My eyes snag on blue eyes peering up at me through a helmet. They seem to twinkle, and the corner of my lip twitches. And then he goes and winks.
