80. Natalie

Chapter 80

Natalie

My kneesand elbows are sore from how many times I’ve fallen, and I’m pretty sure the woman who has been giving me my cues is fully aware I’m not the person who is supposed to be in the suit. But she’s not saying anything, and neither am I. When this is all over, I’m planning to take this experience to my grave, take a bath in Tylenol, and never leave my hotel again.

There are only a few minutes left in the game. I just need to survive that, then I can enact my pain-relieving plan.

Trying to get comfortable in skates that have surely rubbed my feet raw, I prop the bottom of the flagpole on the ground and lean on it.

I’m a few feet back from the glass, right behind the net, with the Sleet goalie right in front of me.

If we win, I have to go back out onto the ice, waving this motherfucking flag.

If we lose, I get to hurry back to my closet.

And as much as I want to shove this polyester rag down Luke’s throat for being a hockey player and ultimately being responsible for me being here, I still don’t want them to lose.