Odette

15

" O dette! You're here," Tori says excitedly when I make it to my seat at the arena. Isla was the one to extend the invitation, but I suspect it was at Gavin's behest. He's been less visible in my life the past two weeks since the birthday party. They've been on the road, so I'm sure that's the main reason. But I think he's taking what I told him that night to heart.

It was a nice surprise to get Isla's text. Holding Gavin's advances at bay like I did, I thought I might miss the opportunity to keep these new friends.

As much as I love the decadent life I had in New York, I equally love the peacefulness of the Pacific Northwest. If I'm going to stay, an established circle of friends helps.

"I was happy for the invite," I tell her, taking a seat next to her. "I've never been to any professional…what do we call it? Game, match?"

"Game," she says with that joyous smile she wears so well. Gavin and Caroline really raised an exceptional daughter. I note it often when I watch her with her classmates. She's eager to help others, incredibly encouraging, and celebrates all their ideas and ambitions with them. In all these weeks, I've yet to see her even mildly frustrated. Tori is like a field of daisies walking into the workroom every day. "Never? Not football or anything?"

"No, never. I can't count the number of runways and red carpets. But games? Not a single one. I didn't even know what to wear," I whisper the last part to her, conspiratorially.

Tori scans my outfit with a wide smile. I opted for high-waisted sailor pants, a frilly cropped blouse with a small pussy bow, and a pair of vintage t-strap heels. It's about as dressed down as I get in public.

"You might get a little cold, but you'll look fantastic doing it. Which is arguably more important."

"You're my kind of girl, kid," I tell her, and she beams. She may hero worship me, a fact that isn't lost on me, but I'm careful about showing any kind of favoritism. I like Tori, though. I know her better because of her father. Liking her doesn't mean she won't get honest critique from me. "You might have to fill me in on what's happening. I don't know much about hockey."

"I can help, too. I'm real smart about hockey," a young girl approaching with Isla says. "I'm Sadie."

"Nice to meet you, Sadie," I say as she takes the seat in front of me.

"Hey, ," Isla greets. "Glad you made it." She takes a seat next to Sadie, and I guess this is the daughter she told me about at the birthday party.

"Whose wag are you?" Sadie asks, and I look to Isla for explanation.

"Wives and girlfriends," she explains the moniker.

"Oh. Well, nobody's. But I grew up with Gavin Vaughn."

"Gav is soooo nice," Sadie says dramatically. "He used to play Go Fish with me all the time. But I don't like to play that much anymore. So, he's teaching me chess, which is kinda like hockey plays."

Tori and Sadie take up the conversation of chess, allowing Isla and I to talk.

"I was going to text you this weekend, but since I have you now, would you be interested in helping plan a girls' night? I have a friend coming to town to film. She doesn't know anyone here and needs friends to occupy her downtime. Otherwise, she'll end up getting herself in trouble and her agent will riot."

"Sure, of course. Who are we talking about?"

"Britton Macy."

"Shut the fuck up," she says in an excited whisper. "You're joking?"

"Not at all," I say with a laugh. "She's a client turned friend who will be here for roughly four months."

"I loved her in Wuthering Heights . Like, obsessively loved. Like, she's my hall pass and I'm not even bisexual."

"She has that effect; everyone falls in love with her."

"Fuck," Isla cusses and takes a deep breath. "I'm sure I'll embarrass myself, but yes, anything you need."

"Well, I mostly need to rely on you for the guestlist, since I don't know many people, either."

"You got it. No wag will pass up a chance to meet Britton Macy."

"Great, thank you."

"No, . Thank you."

"Will Cillian be thanking me after all this?"

"No, probably not." She laughs as music starts playing loudly.

"What's happening?" I ask Tori.

"Warmups," she says. "They make it kind of a big production. Hockey has this weird cheesy aspect to it."

"I thought they fought all the time?"

"Oh, they do that, too," she says. "They have two sets of rules. The official ones, and the player ones. They're self-governing, of sorts. You disrespect a player on another team, that team will pay it back, and everyone lets it happen."

I try to watch all the players, but my focus keeps landing on Gavin. He skates around in circles for a few minutes, then takes a few shots at goal, before he moves to one side of the ice to stretch.

What does it say about me that heat sizzles in my stomach when all he's doing is stretching his hips. It's not lewd but my mind goes there; to images of him making similar movements over me. To memories that I thought I'd long buried.

Switching my sight to other players doing similar stretches, the same reaction isn't duplicated. It's only with him. He's the only one. In some ways, he always has been, and in some ways, I've always been mad at him for that.

Yet, it's undeniable. This chemistry between us? It's real, even if it can't be seen.

It also can't be denied that I want him as much as I want him to stay away. Gavin is a constant tug-of-war in my heart. They say "the heart wants what the heart wants". My heart isn't what wants Gavin, though.

It's my body. And maybe the ego he bruised all those years ago. It'd really like a chance to show him what he's missed.

"There will be an intermission now," Tori tells me when the skaters leave the ice. "They'll refresh the ice, then the game will start. I'll get some food. Do you want anything?"

"Can I come with? I'd like the whole experience."

"Yeah, of course. I'll show you all my favorites."

Sadie tags along, too, and they chatter, pointing out all the different amenities the arena holds. Tori says there is a lounge reserved for families of the players, but both girls say they don't like it in there as much as they like to be with the fans.

We go from stand to stand, picking out a variety of items. Sadie tries to talk me into a peanut butter hot dog, but I can't go that far down this rabbit hole. I do indulge, though, something I haven't done since moving to Seattle. We end up with birria tacos, vegetarian nachos, salmon chowder, and I grab a local beer, as well.

I'll pay for it all later, but I want to live in this moment, in case it's the only time. I learned a long time ago to savor things, enjoy it all while it lasts. Life doesn't offer guarantees.

By the time we get back to the seats, the game is about to start. The lights dim and a movie-like production starts to play on the big screens overhead. Each of the Blades is announced with their picture projected. I can't deny Gavin is the best looking, though all in all, the team is very good-looking.

He's right, though, this is obviously a younger man's sport. Some of the men look barely old enough to drink.

The game starts; everything moves so fast, it's impossible for me to keep up. Tori is good at giving me commentary throughout. Every time the whistle blows, she explains why, making sure I understand the concepts of things like offsides and icing.

"Brighton is hot dogging," Tori says.

"That's not going to end well for him," Sadie says.

"What's that mean?"

"It's showboating. Some of the younger hotshots do it, usually an elder player will have a few words for them," Isla explains. And sure enough, Vaughn skates over to the kid, chest to chest. We can't hear what he says, but the younger player tries to talk back. Vaughn just smiles while one of the guy's teammates pulls him away.

"Looks like it's going to be a chippy game," Tori says, then turns to me to explain further. "It's going to be very physical."

I watch with rapt attention, standing to cheer with everyone else when Seattle scores a goal. The arena chants along with the music and it's more fun than I could have anticipated. Looks like I've been missing out by avoiding sports in favor of classy dinner parties and industry events.

"You're enjoying yourself," Isla says during the intermission between the first and second periods.

"Much more than I thought I would," I confirm.

"Hockey is the best," Sadie sings.

"I have to agree with you there, Sadie."

"Really? So, you'll come to more games now?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah, you're pretty and I like your shirt."

"Oh, well, thank you. You're pretty, too."

"I know, my dad says it all the time. You're as pretty as your mom, Sadie Baby. That's what he calls me. Even though I'm not a baby, I let him call me that. I'm going to be old and he's still going to be calling me that," she says, rolling her eyes, but she smiles as she does it.

"Your dad is a nice guy."

"Yep," she says. "The whole team is. But Hugo is kinda weird."

"It's a goalie thing," Tori says. "They're all a bit weird."

"I guess you'd have to be," I say.

"For sure," Sadie says.

The second period starts with a bang. The young "hotdogger" from the other team makes a shitty hit on Letty. I only know it's shitty because Tori tells me it is after the arena boos in unison. Letty leaves the ice and immediately walks the tunnel to the locker rooms.

"He hit his bucket pretty hard, they'll go through concussion protocol," Tori says.

"Is that common? Concussions?"

"They've made strides to make the sport safer, but not enough," she says. "That fucker should have been ejected, but they gave him a two-minute minor instead. The league will review it tomorrow and likely have a hearing that could end up in a suspension, but that doesn't prevent anything like this from happening again."

"Will this be one of those self-governing things that you talked about?"

"Mmm, one of our guys will be on that kid's ass as soon as he leaves the box."

We score a goal on this power play thing, but as soon as the guy's penalty minutes are up, he beelines it for the puck. Vaughn gets on the ice at the same time and heads straight for him, dropping his gloves in the process.

"Oh, shit," Sadie says.

"Sadie," Isla warns but not too harshly.

"Sorry, Mom. Oh! Kick his butt, Vaughn!"

They trade blows, the kid getting a few body shots off on Gavin, but nothing in the face. It's the other way around for Vaughn, though, and soon, the kid is on the ice with Gavin atop him. The officials let it go for a minute before interfering and pulling them off each other. Gavin spits at the kid's feet before he skates over to the box. The other guy gets another penalty, too, and the rest of the game, he plays much cleaner.

"It's like gang rules," I say.

"A little bit, yeah," Tori agrees. "Honor goes a long way in this sport."

Honor. It's not a word I would have associated with Gavin before. But that would have been my broken heart talking. It was honorable of him to stick by Caroline and to make sure his daughter had the best he could offer.

The question that always plagued me was why couldn't he have given them what they needed without marrying her. I know the biggest part was financial. Then when I'd heard he'd been drafted and he was making plenty of money, I hoped that maybe the situation would change.

I'd waited for four years, dreaming of him showing up at my doorstep, begging for another chance. But that didn't happen, either. As more years went by, I settled on the fact that it was never going to happen. There would never be a day that Gavin showed up at my door full of regret.

Until now, anyway. But now is too late. Those fantasies of him fighting for me died a long time ago. Now, the only fantasies I have of Gavin Vaughn are of his head between my thighs after a long game of him fighting.

Because holy hell was that the hottest thing I've ever seen.