Yoshi!
Yoshi!
Yoshi!
“Dude.” Cali throws his hands in the air.
I flip him the bird, not giving a shit. I’m surprised he even heard my phone over the sound of Birds of Prey.
I thumb open my texts, wondering briefly if it’s another one from Mels. I’ve been doing my best to distance myself from her, but like I told her, I promised I wouldn’t walk away again. I may not be able to be with her, but texting has been our thing since long before we became a couple.
I miss her like crazy, though. She doesn’t know it, but I’ve squeezed in seeing her show another half a dozen times in the month since opening night. It only gets better each time.
I’m supposed to be keeping my distance, a feat made harder the last ten days since our series against her brother’s team started. Creeping from the audience to see her may not technically be keeping my distance, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.
Have I been taking advantage of working out my frustrations with Nate when we play? Maybe. To be fair, whenever we’ve played the Bruisers in the past, I’ve ended up in the sin bin at least once. So what if that number has tripled for the last six games?
Looking down, I see I do have a message from her.
BROADWAY BABY: *picture of Mr. Potato Head with a Funko Pop! doll of Jase and one of Nate*
BROADWAY BABY: Why can’t I get you two to get along IRL like you do as dolls?
I laugh. My baby is something else.
Shit. Not your baby anymore, Donnelly.
THE BIG HAMMER: *shrugging emoji*
Thumbing back, I go through the other texts that came through.
ALPHABET SOUP: Only because the Blizzards are out.
ALPHABET SOUP: *picture of Rocky wearing a Jase Donnelly Storm jersey*
THE FEROCIOUS TEDDY BEAR: Do you see these posers?
THE FEROCIOUS TEDDY BEAR: *picture of all the Covenettes wearing Jase Donnelly Storm jerseys*
MOTHER OF DRAGONS: If anyone asks, I’m telling them this was for Halloween.
MOTHER OF DRAGONS: *picture of Lucy, Lacey, and baby Logan in mini Jase Donnelly Storm jerseys*
DAUNTLESS SUPERMAN: You need me to come back there and show you some moves so you can really lay Bishop out?
I have to be on the ice for warm-ups in less than five minutes. I make quick work of responding so I can finish dressing.
To Rocky:
THE BIG HAMMER: Surrrrre. Wait until AFTER we break up and you marry someone else to FINALLY wear the CORRECT jersey.
ALPHABET SOUP: To be fair…you didn’t ACTUALLY play for the Storm when we dated *shrugging emoji*
Such a smartass.
To Griff:
THE BIG HAMMER: Yeah…they are totally closet Storm fans.
THE FEROCIOUS TEDDY BEAR: True story lol.
To JD:
THE BIG HAMMER: FINALLY! You’re raising them right. But it loses a little something with the Yeti headphones.
MOTHER OF DRAGONS: Yeah, I’m not buying a new set of noise-canceling headphones. Sorry not sorry.
To Vince:
THE BIG HAMMER: Please. I taught you everything you know.
DAUNTLESS SUPERMAN: In your dreams, puck head.
Tossing my phone in my locker, I slip one of JD’s hair ties on my wrist and finish suiting up.
The sound of the opening ceremony and accompanying hype video echo in the tunnel as we wait to step onto the ice.
We charge out as a team, and I complete my full skate of the rink then look toward the suite level, finding my crazy-ass family waving down at me.
Across the ice, I spot Bishop, but the death glare I’m used to seeing isn’t there. Huh? He looks almost…cordial.
Our starting line is announced as we finish warm-ups, lining up on the blue line opposite Boston’s starters while the rest of our teams filter in and make their way to the benches.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please rise and remove your caps to join our special guest tonight, Broadway’s own Melody Brightly, to sing the national anthem.”
Pinching my glove between my elbow and side, I remove it to knuckle my ear. With the flashing lights, booming music, and roaring crowd, my ears must be playing tricks on me. There’s no way I heard what I think I just heard. Right?
It’s Wednesday. Mels has two shows on Wednesdays. She should have just taken the stage for her second performance of the day, not be here about to walk out on the silver carpet laid on the ice.
So why am I trying to see past the Bruisers for a familiar flash of pink?
Chapter Sixty-One
The butterflies I experienced on opening night have nothing on the fire-breathing dragons currently taking up residence in my gut.
Though muted by the concrete surrounding me, the music and voiceover from the hype video the Storm plays before their playoff games thunders through my ears.
Just a few more minutes.
Breathe in through the nose. Exhale out the mouth.
Over and over I repeat the deep breathing exercises, quelling the urge to toss my cookies.
I feel like a complete rookie I’m such a basket case.
The national anthem is arguably the hardest song to sing live, and I’m about to do it in front of almost eighteen thousand in the arena and about another eight million watching from home.
Sure, it makes sense to be nervous when you consider all that, but none of that is what has me as skittish as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
I ball my hands inside the long sleeves of my Jase Donnelly jersey, bunching the fabric inside them.
What if he’s mad?
What if he doesn’t understand what I mean by this?
What if he still refuses to be with me?
All these thoughts play on repeat in my mind until a touch on my elbow breaks me from my trance.
Turning my head, I see the representative from the Storm looking at me expectantly. “You ready?”
When I concocted this brilliant—albeit drunken—scheme to get my man back, the first person I contacted to help was Jordan. Of all the stories I heard from Jase about how The Coven gets shit done, including tracking down Holly when no one else could, I knew who to call—and it wasn’t the Ghostbusters. Gotta love the irony of enlisting their help to get him to come to his senses.
Now, though? I could really go for the bottle of wine that got me into this mess.
You can do this, Mels.
You perform for people eight times a week.
You’re nominated for a freaking Tony.
I keep my gaze trained straight ahead, and I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that the Boston starting line—AKA my brother’s line—is the one closest to me and not the Storm. I’ll say good because I’m not sure I’d be able to go through with this seeing Jase’s reaction.
It’s different when I’m on stage. The lights are so bright, and the audience is one big shadow. Here? Not so much.