Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Whitney

The Blazers had won Game One in the second round of the playoffs, and the energy inside the arena before Game Two crackled like static electricity. The crowd buzzed with excitement.

Gramps and I shuffled along our row to warm greetings of "How are you feeling?" and "Welcome back!" from the girlfriends.

"Thank you. I'm fine," I replied with a reassuring smile, though my body still ached from my fall onto the concrete. I suffered from headaches and a foggy brain, and I hadn't been able to write a single word since the seizure two days ago. Worry was a lead weight in my belly.

Gramps and I took our seats, and my heart raced with fear at being back in the stands. But surely lightning wouldn't strike twice in the same place.

The team skated onto the ice for warm-ups. Joonas took the position in the crease, and Hudson stretched along the boards.

I frowned. That wasn't right. "Why isn't Hudson in net? "

Gramps huffed. "Didn't he tell you? Coach benched him for leaving the game during your seizure." He muttered under his breath, "And the league fined him ten thousand dollars."

I shot to my feet. "What?" I clenched my fists. We hadn't talked much because I'd slept most of the previous day, the day after my seizure. And game day had revolved around preparation for the evening's contest. We'd seen little of each other. "How can they punish him for a family emergency?"

"Sit down, missy." Gramps's voice was firm but kind. "Hudson knew what he was doing. He's a pro athlete. He understands there are consequences for leaving a game."

My legs gave out underneath me, and I plopped back into my seat. "But Gramps, why would he do that?"

Gramps raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you really need to ask?"

Well, yeah. I did need to ask. Ours was a fake marriage, so why would he make such a sacrifice? I couldn't allow him to give up so much for me.

Gramps squeezed my clenched hand. "It will be okay."

But it wasn't okay. My heart was in my throat throughout the whole game, nails biting into the soft flesh of my palms. And when the Blazers lost, I couldn't help but feel responsible. My stomach curdled. I fired off a text to Hudson, which he would receive when he changed into his suit.

Whitney: I'm fine, but I'm going to skip Scrimmage's tonight. Don't worry. See you at home.

I pocketed my phone and turned to Hope. "I'm going to head home after I take Gramps to his car."

A frown creased her forehead. "Are you okay? Are you?—"

I shook my head. "It's nothing like that. I'm just not in the mood to go out."

Her brows softened in understanding, and she leaned down and hugged my shoulders. "See you at the next home game."

I prayed Hudson would be back in net by then.

I helped Gramps to his car and ordered an Uber.

On the way home, my mind whirled with questions and doubts. I knew Hudson cared for me—his feelings were exposed in every kiss. Every gaze. But hockey was his life. A life Gramps had raised him into, and which brought him pride and joy. Because of me, Hudson had been fined and benched. His career had suffered.

Our marriage was supposed to repair his image.

Instead, I'd practically tanked his career.