Chapter 42

forty-two

ISLA

I expected the arena to be colder. But I guess when you cram thousands of people into a space—even one with a giant ice rink in the center—it warms things up.

"I can't believe this is your first game," Mira gushes. Her green eyes reflect the sparkling lights of the arena as she takes it all in. Her long, dark hair is braided into loose pigtails and tucked into a yellow and charcoal gray Rogues beanie with a massive yellow pom-pom on the top. She gave me one to match, though my hair is down and in loose curls. I'm already regretting that. Should have let Mira braid mine, too. It's going to be a rat's nest of knots by the end of the game.

We're both wearing a Rogues jersey with Maddox's last name on it. Well, Mira's last name, too, I suppose. Mine is over a hoodie, while Mira just wears a long-sleeved thermal shirt under hers. She looks completely at ease and in her element.

I'm a ball of nerves.

"No need to look so stressed." Mira nudges me with her shoulder. "Maddy's been on fire, so far. And if I know my brother, he'll play even harder since you're here. It's going to be great, you'll see."

"I know," I say, my eyes on the tunnel the team will enter from. "I guess I'm just worried about seeing him get hit in person, you know? It was nerve-wracking enough on TV. He's got a big bruise on his ribs from that hit at the end of the last away game."

Mira shrugs. "At least he has you to kiss it better." She makes a kissy face, complete with obnoxious sound effects, and it helps. There's no way not to laugh at her antics.

The guy beside her stares at us for a moment before turning to his buddy and whispering something I can't make out. Hopefully, they don't know who Mira's talking about. I just want to sit here in blissful anonymity while I worry about my boyfriend.

Soon, the arena is packed with loud, excited fans. It's a sea of yellow and gray with a few dots of Boston's royal blue and gold interspersed throughout the crowd. The booming voice of the announcer fills the space, drowning everything else out. He announces the game between the Rogues and the Boston Renegades, then introduces each player that makes up the Renegades, as well as their coaches. The crowd boos enthusiastically, some of them heckling the players as they step onto the ice and circle the rink.

Then the lights go down and everyone turns their phone's flashlight apps on, and music blares through the cavernous space. Mira grabs my hand with a squeal and does a little dance in her seat as the announcer begins his introduction for the Rogues. With each new player he announces, my heart beats a little faster. My eyes hungrily scan the tunnel and I stand and cheer alongside Mira when he calls out Griffin and Logan. Maddox must have told them where we're sitting because they skate right up to the rink shield and give Mira and me a wink and a wave before skating off. The guy next to Mira stares at us again.

But then I don't care about anyone or anything else around me. Not Mira, not the guy beside her—hell, I wouldn't care if the president of the United States was in the stands—because the announcer calls out Maddox's name. The crowd goes wild for him, and so does my heart. It's thundering away in my chest. And when he makes eye contact the moment he steps out of that tunnel and onto the ice, I'm a goner.

No one else exists except for my boyfriend when he skates up to the glass, lets his eyes rove over me, winks, and then holds his hand to his heart. He grins at Mira, who's howling with laughter at his antics, then gifts a smile to me before he skates off to join his team. I barely register the announcer calling Sebastian's name or feel Mira bump into me with her shoulder again because I'm stuck in this surreal moment. Even when the people around us whisper my name, I hardly notice.

To be the sole focus of Maddox Graves while he's in his element is heady.

"Oh my god, you two are so fucking adorable I can hardly stand it," Mira crows with her hands interlocked beneath her chin.

Despite the chill in the air, my cheeks heat .

"Seriously," she continues, "he's different with you. You're good for him."

I push out a mumbled thanks, but soon the arena fills with music so loud it's impossible to talk. And I'm glad because my heart is rioting in my chest. Maddox's sister likes me, and he just singled me out in front of thousands of people. He wouldn't have done that if this thing between us wasn't getting serious, right?

As the game begins, I'm focused on only one thing. Maddox Graves. The man who just claimed my heart in front of the world.

The crowd boos and I wince as one of the Renegades' players slams Maddox hard into the boards. Neither team has scored, and it's been an incredibly physical game. Our guys grow increasingly frustrated as the second period winds down.

The fans also grow frustrated, and the more beer they drink, the more vocal they are about their dissatisfaction.

"Come on, Wright," Mira shouts as Logan passes the puck to Griffin. He tries to slice through Boston's defense, but they're sticking to the Rogues like glue. Griffin tries to get the puck to Maddox, but it's intercepted. The crowd boos, then grows silent as the Renegades player speeds down the ice toward the goal Sebastian guards. I hold my breath as he swats it away with his stick.

"This is so stressful," I tell Mira. I'm holding onto her arm with a death grip.

"Tell me about it." We both let out a sigh as the second period comes to a close and the guys leave the ice. Maddox glances my way, and I can tell he's frustrated, so I give him a thumbs-up and a goofy smile. His lips twitch at the corners before he disappears down the tunnel.

Mira tries to reassure me. "The Renegades are good. The guys knew this would be a tough game, but I'm not sure anyone expected Boston to come out swinging this hard during the preseason."

"Maybe if our team would get their heads out of their asses, we'd be winning by now," the ruddy-faced man beside her says.

Mira's jaw ticks. She rolls her eyes at me, then turns to the guy and says, "Oh, yeah? And you could do better, right?"

He huffs. "Listen, sweetheart, I'm sure you love watching the guys skate around, but some of us are here for the actual hockey. You wouldn't understand."

Uh-oh . I may not know Mira super well, but I know she's fiery as hell and very protective of her brother.

"Listen, sweetheart ," she says mockingly, "I've been watching hockey games since before I could walk. I understand plenty, and I'm more invested in the Rogues winning than you'll ever be. So why don't you sit down, get another beer, and shut the hell up, okay?"

A guy behind us lets out a low whistle. Our new red-faced friend sputters and huffs out annoyed sounds for a minute, but obviously can't think of anything intelligent to say in response. Mira gives him her back and waves down a vendor selling cotton candy.

We're halfway through the third and final period with nine minutes and forty seconds left on the clock, and both teams seem like they're out for blood. My jaw hurts from clenching it so hard. I still haven't recovered from watching one of the Renegades slam into Maddox directly in front of us. If the people in the seats surrounding Mira and me hadn't realized by that point that I'm Maddox's girlfriend, they sure did after that.

Everyone groans when one of our rookies gets sent to the sin bin for cross-checking.

"They're getting frustrated. It's making them reckless," Mira mutters, more to herself than me. The announcer informs the arena that Ryder Hanson has been given a two-minute penalty. "This isn't good."

It's the opening the Renegades need. With the Rogues down a player during the penalty kill, Boston gets around our d-men, and for the first time in the game, Bash lets a puck slip by him.

"Dammit," I hiss. Poor Sebastian looks pissed at himself, but the Rogues don't give up. The line changes, and Maddox, Griffin, and Logan hop back onto the ice. With clasped hands, I pray to the hockey gods, the ancient Greek gods, hell, I even channel Jess and pray to Chris Hemsworth that the guys can turn this around and take the lead.

Seven minutes left.

Maddox gets control of the puck and speeds down the ice. He's glorious and fierce, and I can't help it. I leap to my feet and shout, "Go, babe, go!" He's quickly surrounded and slaps the puck hard toward the Renegades' net, but their goalie blocks it.

"You know," our pink-cheeked neighbor slurs loudly, his fifth beer of the night in hand, "Graves has been on fire so far this preseason." The man glares at me. "You his girlfriend or his bad-luck-charm? Because one game with you in the seats, and he's playing like a junior-leaguer."

Heat rushes up my chest and cheeks as people turn to stare at me. This is my nightmare.

"Listen, you sack of shit, blaming an off night on a player's significant other is bullshit, and you know it." Mira stands, her petite frame seeming to puff up with indignation. "So shut your fucking mouth, or I'll shut it for you."

"Mira," I tug on the back of her jersey. Everyone around us stares. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," she says. "Fuck this guy."

"Well, I mean, yeah, he's an asshole. But he's not worth it."

"What did you say?" The drunk fan rises to his feet and squares off with Mira, but his angry gaze is on me. "You think just because you're letting a hockey player fuck you like some common whore that makes you special?"

I want to crawl under my seat and disappear.

"You're just another slutty puck bunny distracting the team in search of your fifteen minutes." He's shouting now, spittle hitting Mira in the face. I'm actively trying to hold her back, because her fists are clenched, and I just know she's about to haul off and hit the guy. Which he totally deserves. But she'll be the one who ends up arrested for it.

A couple of drunk guys two rows back decide to pile on and make their opinions known. They shout at Mira and me to go home, call me names, and blame the fact that the Rogues are losing on our presence. I shouldn't care what any of them have to say. They're drunk, belligerent, and ignorant. But a tear still rolls down my cheek.

I'm so lost in my embarrassment, I don't notice Maddox skate up to the glass until he pounds on it. When I lift my watery eyes to his face, he takes one look at the tear dripping from my jaw, then zeroes in on the jerk next to Mira.

"What the fuck did you say to my girl?" he shouts through the glass. The jerk loses some of his bravado when faced with the murderous attention of Maddox Graves. When the guy doesn't speak, Maddox pounds on the glass. "I'll ask you again, dickface. Why is my girl crying?"

The rest of the Rogues' players notice the commotion, and the Renegades are just as intrigued. Play grinds to a halt as Griffin and Logan skate over to us. The guys who were just shouting at Mira and me and acting like big, tough cavemen fall silent.

"What did he say to you, baby?" Maddox shouts through the glass. When I shake my head, unwilling to repeat any of it, he turns his attention to his sister. "Mi-Mi, what the fuck is going on?"

Mira wraps her arm around my shoulder. "These asshats are calling Isla names and blaming her for the score."

"Bitch," the drunk guy mutters.

"The fuck did you just call my sister?" Maddox pounds the side of his fist against the glass. "You have a death wish?"

The arena is breaking into chaos. Play has completely stopped, and the refs skate over to figure out what's going on. Griffin and Logan try to get Maddox away from the rink shield, but he shoves them away and points to the man beside Mira.

"Say another word to my girlfriend or my sister and I'll lay you out, asshole."

This time, the refs hear his threat. Dragging him away from the glass, they slap him with a misconduct penalty.

"What does that mean?" I whisper to Mira.

She shakes her head, but her expression is proud. She may not be happy about the penalty, but she clearly supports Maddox's actions. "It means he's out for the rest of the game. Normally it's a ten-minute penalty, but there are only six minutes left."

I cover my face and sink as low in my seat as I can manage. If the surrounding fans hated me before, it's nothing compared to the boos hurled my way when the announcer calls out the penalty.

Sure, I'm not to blame for being targeted with verbal abuse by drunk strangers, but I still can't help feeling like all of this is my fault. And when the Rogues lose after a brutal game, the fans around me have no problem telling me they feel the same.

My first time at a game, and already I'm bringing Maddox down.