10. Devon

Devon

"Dude," Eddie says, slinging his arm around my neck. "They named you MVP of the game!"

"Great," I murmur, rolling my eyes. "Now, all I need to do is retire to Beverly Hills."

"Shut the fuck up, Chambers," Grey says, punching me in the arm. "You need to learn how to accept a compliment. Maybe if you did, you wouldn't be such a pissant on the ice."

"Oh, do pissants usually score two hat tricks in a row?" I ask, taking a huge drink of my beer. I'm doing my best to engage with the guys, but truthfully, my mind is elsewhere.

On that woman, to be precise.

What is she doing in Vermont? And in a Maple Leaves jersey? Remembering the moment our eyes locked, my entire body quivers, and I take a huge gulp of my beer to try and hide it.

"…if you keep playing like this, we're going to make it to the playoffs."

I jump when someone waves their hand in front of my face.

"What?" I snap, jerking back away from them.

"Dude, you've been checked out all night," Sammy comments, raising his eyebrows suggestively as he glugs his beer. "You got something else on your mind?"

"Go blow yourself," I mutter, dropping my eyes back to the table and asking for another beer. The other guys rally together, moving across the bar toward the pool table, where they strike up a game. I decline the invitation to join them.

"So," Grey says, sliding into the seat next to me. "It's that woman, right?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask, keeping my eyes focused on the beer in front of me. If I look at him, it'll be too easy for him to see right through me.

"I'm talking about that woman who was at the game today, the one from Vegas."

Despite my best efforts, my eyes dart to meet his.

"You saw her?" I gasp.

Grey lets out a loud laugh, throwing his head back.

"Oh, yeah," he says, chuckling. "I saw her, I saw the moment you saw her, and I saw you come to life on the ice after that. Just admit it, she lit a little fire under your ass, man."

"I don't even know her," I tell him, taking a swig of my beer.

"It doesn't matter, Chambers," Grey says, shaking his head and ordering a whiskey on the rocks. "You know when you know. You get the right woman in front of you, and it's like everything clicks into place."

"That's crazy," I say. "She's literally a stranger, and it's bordering on creepy for me to think about her like that."

"Well, what the hell is she doing in Vermont, dude? If anything's creepy, it's the fact that she followed you across the country just to catch another game you were playing. There are plenty of other hockey games, all much closer to Vegas if that's where she's from."

"Maybe she's from Toronto."

"Unlikely," Grey snorts. "Why go to a game here? Why not just catch a home game?"

"It's probably just a coincidence," I say, which is what I've been telling myself over and over again since I saw her in the arena. Hockey games are public—anyone can come. It's not like she's seeking me out. Like many other women hanging around, she would be wearing a Vipers jersey if she was trying to get the attention of specific players.

The image of that—her wearing a Vipers jersey—makes my chest tight. But there's no way in hell I'll admit that to Grey.

"I'm just saying, man," Grey says, swirling his whiskey in the glass before taking a sip. "When you find the right woman, you have to go after her."

"You're crazy. You've forgotten that we're literally talking about a person I have never spoken to before. In my life."

"She made you play better than you ever have in your life, twice. You don't get it right now, but everything is better when you have a woman like that. Imagine everything you do in a day just suddenly being better because she's there. Like, you get up in the morning and brush your teeth, except you have this beautiful woman standing next to you who loves you and is also brushing her teeth at the same time."

"I'll keep that in mind," I tell him, taking another swig of my drink. "Brush my teeth with someone else."

"Don't be a dick," Grey says, cuffing me over the back of the head. "I can see what's happening here. When you first get into that headspace, being around her for the first time knocks you out. And it's impossible to think about anything else."

"Like you and Ellie?" I ask, hoping to bring her up and distract him. It usually does.

"Sure," he says. "I mean, yeah. You remember what I was like right after she and I were together. I couldn't think about anything else. And not even how other people wanted to talk about us made us think or act differently."

I decide to keep pushing because if bringing up Ellie doesn't distract him, there's something that definitely will.

"Speaking of Ellie," I say, staring into my cup as I swirl my drink. "How's the baby doing?"

"Clementine?" He turns toward me, his eyes already brighter than they were a moment before. I raise my eyebrows, counting down in my head, and right on cue, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. In a second, I'm looking at picture after picture after picture of baby Clementine. "She's doing great. Look how cute she is in this one."

If you've seen one baby photo, you've seen them all. That's something I stand by. But I lean forward, pretending to be engrossed in the many, many pictures of Clementine in her many outfits, all picked out by Ellie. Looking at baby photos is better than hearing Grey tell me how I should be going after a fan in the stands.