Page 70 of Thrown for a Loop
Chapter 25
Three hours after our pedicures, I’m still confused. It makes no sense that Chase would say yes to Sailor’s PR stunt. “I just don’t understand it,” I tell Darcy for the tenth time. “There’s no reason for Chase to say yes.”
“Here’s a wild theory,” she says without even a glance in my direction. “What if he said yes because he wanted to?”
“Wanted to dowhat?”
“Skate with you! I mean, he obviously enjoyed it the first time.”
“That was completely different,” I argue. “It was his summer job. He was nineteen, with no other responsibilities. Also, he didn’t hate me then. He was trying to get into my pants.”
Darcy says nothing.
“I just can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been manipulated. What if Sailor is playing both of us against each other? Like maybe that text he showed us was Chase’s reply to a different question, like ‘Want to meet up at the bar later?’”
“Look,” Darcy says sharply. She puts a hand on my arm but still doesn’t look in my direction. She’s too busy watching the Legends whip past us on the ice. “I say this with love, but would you shut up about this for maybe ten minutes? The game is tied in the third period, and I’m not built for this kind of anxiety.”
“Oh, fine. You need me to delay my nervous breakdown until after the third period?”
“Or possibly overtime,” she says with a shrug. “If only these guyswould SHOOT THE PUCK!” she shouts as Weber skates past. “Then maybe I could listen to your conspiracy theories.”
It’s a fair point. We’ve spent the past two hours on the edge of our seats. The game against Toronto has been tense and brutal. The crowd is as loud as thunder, cheering wildly for the enemy every time they have the puck. Which, sadly, has been more than half thetime.
The Legends are holding their own, though. The 2–2 score is a result of a couple of scrappy goals—one from Tremaine and one from Larkin right in front of the net.
Naturally I’ve spent most of my time watching Chase, with my heart in my mouth. Is it just me, or is he skating better than he did in his last game?
As he flies past me again, I swear his stride is more confident. I’ve seen explosive acceleration and tight cornering. On one play, he blew past a Toronto defenseman to retrieve a dump-in, then pivoted seamlessly to protect the puck and make a crisp pass to Tremaine.
Yet he can’t seem to catch a break in front of the goal. Toronto’s best D-man has an irritating way of blocking the goal when Chase gets the puck.Every. Time.
Honestly, I want to dive over the boards and punch the guy, but I’m pretty sure my nemesis in PR would frown on that.
As the clock winds down, the speed of play amps up. With only five minutes left, I can see the frustration on Chase’s face, especially when one of the Toronto players trips him and doesn’t get called for it. I can sense his glower from the other side of the rink.
Although he’s hot when he glowers, my feelings about this moment are more mixed than they should be.
“I hate hockey!” Darcy shrieks as a defender ruins another one of Tremaine’s passes.
“You’re a liar. Although it’s possible you’re only in it for the eye candy. If Tremaine played professional golf, I think you’d be standing on a course somewhere in a visor and khakis.”
She gives me a sharp look. “Shut up. Just because you once had a hot hockey boyfriend doesn’t mean you know things.”
“No, I get it. We’d both be better off if we liked quiet, nerdy men.”
“Sing it, sister.”
Two seconds later we both leap out of our seats as Tremaine steals the puck and skates toward the goal.
“Come on, baby!” Darcy shrieks as Toronto’s defense closes in. “You got this!”
I hold my breath as Tremaine outwits a D-man and pivots toward freedom. But that obnoxious winger is all over him, so Eric needs to pass the puck. He fakes a shot to his D-man but then sends the puck to Chase instead.
It happens so fast I almost miss it. A quick flick of Chase’s wrist, and the puck shoots into the upper corner of the net. The lamp lights behind Toronto’s bewildered goalie.
Suddenly, Darcy and I are jumping up and down and screaming. We hug each other amid the glares of the Toronto fans around us.
“Strap in,” I say breathlessly. “It’s not over yet. We still have a few long minutes to go.”
