Overnight Sensation(84)

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a jacket?” he asks. “It’s fucking cold out there.”

I step back, a little stunned. “That is not how a man greets his lady, but I’ll let it pass, because I’m in a good mood.” I turn to Trevi. “Is it time? Are you ready to sing?”

“Buddy.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “There’s bad news about the concert.”

“What?” I gasp. “It cannot be canceled! I planned it all out.”

“It’s going to snow,” Jason says. “Six inches by midnight and twelve by morning.”

“Our flight is already delayed until noon,” Trevi adds.

“Noon,” I breathe. “Four hours. So we’ll land at eight thirty. But there’s an opening act, right? She might not take the stage until eight or eight thirty anyway.”

“It’ll take us an hour to get there, even if we don’t drop off our luggage,” Trevi says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m sorry, buddy. There’s no way we’re making it.”

“But…” My mind spins as I try to rewrite the rules of physics. “It was perfect. Maybe the forecast is wrong. A snow storm is like a man. You never know how long it will go or how many inches you’re getting.”

Every hockey player in a ten-foot radius bursts out laughing.

Trevi hands me his Katt phone, and we both look down at the weather app. “They’ve upped it, actually,” he says. “Fourteen inches now. This snowstorm is hung.”

“But it’s November,” I wail.

Jason puts an arm around me and puts his chin on my head. It’s a silent show of support, and I do appreciate it. I lean into his warmth and let out a frustrated sigh. “I hate everything in the world,” I whisper. “It was going to be perfect.”

“What’s the problem?” Silas asks, sliding a beer onto the bar in front of me. “This is for you.”

“Thank you.” I feel like crying. “Silas—I made a plan for your birthday. A big plan. And now the snowstorm has ruined it.”

His eyes widen, and the other players in the bar get quiet. “What kind of plan?”

Leo Trevi reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a little envelope—the kind that tickets are kept in. Wordlessly, he hands it to Silas.

Silas opens the envelope and pulls out a fat stack of tickets. His head actually jerks back when he sees what’s written on them. And his expression flickers with something unexpected. Pain. I’m sure that’s what I see, but only for a split second. Then he actually lets out a strangled laugh. “Second row.” He shakes his head. “You’re shitting me.”

“I tried,” I say, wiping the tears off my cheeks. “We all tried.”

Silas raises his chin and takes in the whole team in a glance. “You guys were really going to this concert with me?”

“Totally!” Trevi says. “I practiced singing ‘Make You Mine’ just for you.”

“Jesus,” Silas says, shaking his head. “Well, it looks like you’re off the hook. Close call, guys.”

Everyone laughs.

“Let’s put these on StubHub,” he says, holding up the envelope. “Or maybe Georgia can quickly find a charity who could use them.”

“Hey, that’s a good call,” Leo agrees. “Want me to ask her?”

“Absolutely.” Silas drops the envelope in front of Trevi, like it’s a hot potato. “Now who needs another drink?”

“I do,” Jason says. “Tequila, right? We don’t have to get up early anymore. Heidi, want a shot? For old time’s sake?”

I shudder. “Nope. Tequila and I aren’t friends.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll drink yours, then.”

“Let’s get sloppy,” Silas says. “I’ll buy the first round.” His smile looks sketched on, too.

My men aren’t doing so well tonight. And I’m all out of good ideas. So I order a glass of wine and try to pretend that I’m not worried for both of them. “Does this place have a dart board?”

“If it does, we’ll find it,” Silas says grimly.

“Good, because I feel like throwing things.”

Again, the team laughs. But I’m a hundred percent serious.





33





Jason


I’m dribbling a puck down center ice, swerving between orange cones. The practice rink is my favorite place in the world. I’m at home with the sounds of pucks echoing off the boards and the murmur of male voices between drills.

Heidi skates past me in her Ice Girls uniform. “Hey!” I call. “Where’s my kiss?”

She doesn’t turn her head. Her curly hair flies out behind her as she accelerates away from me. Her legs look a million miles long in that microscopic skirt. It gets so quiet now that I can hear her blades scraping against the ice.

“Don’t make me come over there!” I call playfully. “That’s no way to greet your man.”

She plants the toe pick of her skate into the ice and jumps. She’s spinning through the air so fast that all I can see is a blur. And when she lands, the scrape of her blade against the ice is unnaturally loud. She stumbles, and my stomach drops immediately.