Chapter 21
Bella
MOM confession time
do you remember during high school when you were caught skipping school?
BELLA I was grounded for two weeks
and missed my first date with my first crush who ended up dating Bianca because of it
hard to forget that one
MOM
Well, I extended your time being grounded because I overheard Jeremy talking in the grocery store with his friends that he was trying to go on as many dates as he could to rank them in a book they all shared
BELLA YOU KNEW ABOUT THE TROPHY BOOK?
MOM that’s a disgusting name for it
BELLA they named it, not me. And I agree, it was revolting when photos of it got leaked
MOM
Yes, I knew about it. I didn’t want you to end up in the book so I
grounded you for longer
BELLA
my guardian angel
MOM forever and always
here was no time to get comfortable with one another. No time to test theT limits of physical affection. There was no time for anything with Grayson’s grueling pre-season schedule. Hence why when Layla sends another encouraging text message, my hands shake and her words blur on the screen.
I wish she could have come. I didn’t let her hear it in my voice when she called to tell me she was bedridden, another flare-up from lupus, but I desperately wish she was here beside me because I’m beyond nervous.
I’m not just being thrown into the deep end of this arrangement, I feel like I’m being catapulted into the lion’s den.
Grayson tried to give me as much warning as possible. He called me early this morning and ran me through everything that will happen. The security I’ll go through, the rink-side tickets I’ll pick up because I favored that over being left to the sharks of the WAG box upstairs. He also told me how loud and chaotic the game can be. Yet I still feel like a fish out of water as I take the ticket the woman at the box office hands me.
There’s so much riding on tonight, not only for Grayson but for myself.
We have to make everyone believe that I was the person who helped turn his world right side up again, and if I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll lose the money my mother needs for her treatment.
She’s gotten more fragile in the past five days. I’ve never seen someone deteriorate so quickly.
My phone buzzes in my palm as if Grayson can hear my spiraling
thoughts.
GRAYSON
everything will be okay
BELLA what if no one believes us?
I peer down at my ticket, following the signs toward my seat, far too anxious to eat anything though the smell of popcorn tries to beckon me. But I know it won’t go down well. All it’ll end up doing is making me more nauseous. Another text comes through.
SCREENSHOT OF ICEHAWKS CHAT
I stop dead in my tracks, unable to squelch my laughter. Thankfully, the arena is packed to the brim with people drinking and hollering, along with music blaring from the speakers so no one pays me any attention as I continue to giggle down at my phone like an idiot.
GRAYSON they love you already
BELLA Taylor Swift? Been spying on me on the Ring camera again?
GRAYSON would you make a report with HR if I said yes?
BELLA depends on who HR is
GRAYSON technically you
BELLA don’t you have somewhere better to be? Like, I don’t know, a game in front of thousands of people?
GRAYSON bored of me already?
BELLA you and your fifteen personalities?
GRAYSON harsh. I’d say I’m closer to two.
BELLA and those are?
GRAYSON I’m referred to as a Golden Retriever a lot
BELLA
I can see it
the other?
GRAYSON you’ll have to butter me up to unlock that one
My cheeks are aching by the time I enter the arena. I’m glad he messaged me; every buzzing bee that was taking flight beneath my skin has settled to a low hum. It’s not entirely gone but I’ve never had someone be able to calm me so quickly when I’m in a nervous state.
My breath puffs in front of my face, the cold of the arena seeping into my pores as I cling to my oversized hoodie. My fingers instinctively tap against my thigh in a set of threes as I make my way down, down…and down. I’m shocked by how close the seats are. I know he said rink side but I didn’t think — I stop suddenly in the walkway, apologizing to whoever slammed into me from behind.
I’m seated directly behind the home bench.
Plopping into my seat, the second of reprieve I felt explodes into a whirlwind of chaos as every situation that could go wrong slams into my mind.
Will his teammates ask me questions over the board?
Are people going to stare at me?
Do they even realize I’m seated here?
Does Grayson?
What if they talk about me and don’t realize I’m in earshot?
“Bella?” A small female voice draws my attention.
A blonde takes the seat beside me, a kind smile stretching across her face.
She’s adorned in an IceHawks jersey and beanie, the jersey practically swallowing her small frame.
“I’m Cindy, Asher O’Connor’s girlfriend.” She gives me a small knowing smile. “Grayson sat you beside me and told me to look out for you.”
The bees fall and stumble in their flight path.
“He did?” I ask, shocked.
She snorts. “Of course. He takes care of everyone. He wouldn’t leave you to the wolves.” She cranes her neck, looking at something behind us. “And if you ask me, this is much better than the drama that fills that box.”
She must be talking about the wives and girlfriends box upstairs. I
wonder why she doesn’t like it.
Settling into the seat, she turns to me, her gaze roaming. “I can see it.”
My head shakes at the speed in which she changes topics. “See what?”
“Why he likes you.” Her pink lips tip up into a smile, her blue eyes practically glowing. “You’re his type to a T.”
I frown. “I am?” At the look she gives me, I quickly recover. “That’s reassuring, I wouldn’t want to be dating someone if I weren’t their type.” To redirect from my slip-up, I ask, “How long have you and Asher been together?”
That was something I was able to do—memorize his teammates’ names and faces. If I’m supposedly dating an ice hockey player, I should know their friends and colleagues.
A dreamy look comes over her face. “We grew up with each other actually. My mom and his mom are best friends, so it feels like longer than it has been, but around five years.”
“That sounds adorable and like you’d have a lot of blackmail on him.”
She winks. “Oh, you have no idea the dirt I have on that man.” She sighs heavily. “But he has just as much on me, a double-edged sword.” Pulling out candy from her purse, she offers me some. I decline, still too unsettled to eat.
“How did you and Grayson meet?”
My eyes land on the mascots that skate out, warming up the crowd. “I started working as his assistant actually.”
“Oh, nice! God knows he needs a good one. I swear this past year he’s gone through them like bowling pins.”
I can’t help but snort. “Well, hopefully he’ll keep me around for a while.”
“Asher hasn’t shut up about how happy Crawford suddenly is. I have no doubt that’s because of you.”
Her words jar me so much my head snaps to her with bewilderment, but her focus is on the mascots dancing around the rink.
This is fake, I remind myself. You are not dating him so you are not the
source of his happiness.
This is all fake.
“Has he told you much about the players?” she asks, onto the next topic already.
Grateful for the change, my eyes roam the arena. “Not much outside of names, but I’ve met Kieran.”
Cindy snorts before munching on a handful of sour worms. “Did he hit on
you?”
I cock my head, trying to recall, and then my eyebrows rise. “Yes actually. The first time we met, but he’s mellowed out now.” I frown. “All he does is eat Grayson’s cereal.”
“Asher’s too. The man has a supersonic radar for cereal. I hide ours before he comes over but every time he still finds it like a sniffer dog.”
A small chuckle tumbles from my lips. The tension in my body loosens with every second that passes in her company. She reminds me a lot of Layla in the sense that she’s easy to talk to.
“Anyone else I should be wary of?”
She grimaces. “Plenty. It’s more so the rookies. They’re still in their era of soaking up all the fame. It gets to their egos pretty quickly but I find by their second year the newness has worn off.” She bumps my shoulder. “But don’t worry. For athletes, this team is full of great guys.”
The arena lights dim, and then strobe lights start flashing. Cindy grins at me. “Ever been to a hockey game before?”
“Never.”
She whistles under her breath. “You’re in for a night of entertainment, let me put it that way.”
The announcer’s voice fills the arena, his fast-paced speech barely understandable through the crackling rumble of the speakers, and yet it’s easy to follow as a spotlight shines on a tunnel across the rink.
A sea of men skate out, all adorned in green. The crowd cheers, die-hard fans traveling to watch their favorite team play.
Ice settles in my veins.
I suppose my father is watching this game.
Shivers wrack my body at the thought.
“Cold?” Cindy asks, already moving for her purse at her feet.
Clutching her arm, I wave her off. “It’s okay! Was just a gust of cold air.
I’m fine now.”
“Are you sure? I can get —”
Screams pierce my ears. Cindy and I flinch at the same time as the squeals threaten to make us deaf. Lifting my head, I find out why. Black-and- white jerseys have entered the arena, IceHawks skating through the rink, waving to fans and making them scream.
Cindy rubs her ears. “You never get used to that part, though.” She frowns down at her bag. “I always forget to bring earplugs.”
I take in the group of men stretching, seeking out Grayson. I should have googled his jersey number. I’ve done his laundry for weeks now, how do I
still not know his jersey number?
Until I do.
My eyes snag on blue eyes peering up at me through a helmet. They seem to twinkle, and the corner of my lip twitches. And then he goes and winks.
Screams ring out directly behind me.
“Oh my god! Did Grayson Crawford just wink at me?” one squeals.
“No!” another scoffs. “He winked at me!”
“You’re both idiots, it was at me.”
Cindy sticks out her tongue next to me and we burst out chuckling. But my laughter dies as Grayson turns, revealing the jersey number 33.
Three.
My lucky number, and yet the one that drives me insane on a daily basis.
My heart lurches, beating a thousand beats a minute as the team skates over to the home bench.
A large stocky player with blond hair and gray eyes steps onto the bench first, winking at Cindy. As he turns and sits on the bench, his last name and
number come into view on his jersey.
O’Connor. 42.
Cindy sighs. “Nothing is sexier than a man playing hockey.”
I think of a million things that make men sexy to counteract that statement. A fireman uniform, the veins on men’s hands, how they lift their shirts to wipe the sweat away, gray sweatpants… The list continues to build in my mind until Grayson steps onto the home bench, smiling.
Perhaps Cindy is on to something.
Grayson is tall as it is, but with the skates and the gear, he looks like a giant. A giant my body apparently wants to climb.
I don’t realize we’ve been staring at one another for far too long until Cindy gasps, waving her hand in front of her face. “He is smitten.”
Grayson must read the words on her lips—there’s no way he can hear us over the roaring crowd—because his cheeks flush crimson.
“These are the best seats I’ve ever had,” one of the girls behind us says in awe.
“We could lick their sweat if we wanted to, we’re so close.”
Cindy and I face one another, mirroring each other’s looks of disgust.
Leaning into her space, I lower my voice. “Are we in for these type of
comments the entire night?”
“This is them just getting started.” She shakes her head. “Trust me, I’ve heard far worse.”
My body visibly shudders as I pull back. Grayson, apparently, watched
the entire exchange.
Are you okay? he mouths.
Giving him a little dip of my head, I pointedly ignore the gasps behind me as they try to figure out what Grayson said to them.
rayson is a beast to be reckoned with.
I could understand before why Cindy found Asher so attractive inG his gear, but now seeing Grayson on the ice moving with such grace and yet such fierce strength, it takes my breath away.
Despite this being my father’s favorite sport and team, I never watched games growing up. He could never get me into it, but now my eyes are glued to Grayson.
Granted, they should be glued to the puck with how fast it travels.
I’m not sure why he was so worried this week, why he has been torturing himself with extra sessions, because he’s perfect. More than perfect. His talent shines on the ice.
Cindy has been explaining the game to me as it goes, along with the adorable story of Kieran and Grayson not only being childhood best friends but being drafted together on the same team. They call them the devil pair in the league, a force to be reckoned with as the starting line of forwards.
Kieran being left wing assists Grayson with a slap shot, making me scream like the girls behind Cindy and me. I’ve never heard such a deafening
roar from a crowd before.
It’s infectious.
I’ve gone from not knowing what plays are or how the game operates to screaming my head off when Grayson assists one of Kieran’s fast-break goals.
Cindy and I jump up and down as Kieran does a victory lap from his
score. Grayson sails past, a dazzling smile spreading across his face as he sends another wink my way. He’s been doing this all night, but my heartbeat still drums in my ears, my palms turn sweaty, and my cheeks ache from how much the motion makes me smile.
A squeal from behind grates along my ears.
“He did it again! Tash, he is absolutely asking for your number after the game.”
Cindy rolls her eyes. We’ve begun taking a sip of alcohol every time they mistake Grayson’s affections for them. It’s happened so often I’m starting to feel a buzz, along with the need to turn around and tell them to stop, but that might just be the wine talking. It’s the point like when you’re at a bar or a club and suddenly you want to tell everyone who bumps into you that they need to say excuse me.
The girls’ voices pull my focus toward them again.
“You think?” she says, not at all hiding the insincerity of the question.
Some part of me feels bad that she has the wrong impression, but the other half of me feels immeasurable irritation, and I don’t want to look too far into why I am. Instead, I cheers Cindy, mirroring her giggle as we drink.
“You could be the one to heal him,” the girl states.
The drink in my mouth explodes across the plexiglass in front of me, drawing the eyes of not only the now silent girls behind me but the men sitting on the bench. Cindy bursts into a fit of laughter, O’Connor laughing along with her as I feel like I could burst into flames from embarrassment. I give the men staring at me with open jaws a little wave, not knowing how to proceed from here.
Oh god, this is the first game of many and I’ve already gone and embarrassed Grayson. Yet when I finally peer back at the home bench, they’ve already moved on, along with the girls behind me.
“Try swallowing next time,” Cindy teases, humor dancing across her features.
“Ha ha.” Rolling my eyes, I allow the embarrassment to wash over me as I cling to the warmth of the wine as it hits my bloodstream. “I’m just grateful Grayson didn’t see that little waterworks display.”
Cindy snorts. “He’ll hear about it, though.”
Grumbling under my breath, I slide lower in my seat while Cindy continues to giggle. Layla would love her; she’s a great drinking buddy and something tells me she would be a great friend, too.
Sometimes you just know when you meet someone. For instance, if Cindy sat down beside me tonight and made the gross comments the women behind me have been making all night, we wouldn’t have gotten along.
Or perhaps that’s just the jealousy taking over my brain. Why do I even feel it? Grayson isn’t looking at them. Except, the second we hit that three- month mark I have no doubt I’ll go straight back to the assistant finding puck bunnies half-naked in his living room.
An unsettling thought pops into my mind, one that has the wine in my stomach churning.
What if he’s still seeing puck bunnies? Would he do that? We didn’t discuss the privacy of the arrangement. I know we agreed no one could know and I signed the lengthy NDA, but it said nothing about him.
Athletes cheat all the time. It’s one thing to sit here and listen to the comments the women make about him, but it’s another thing entirely that I would be used as a fake girlfriend while all the people think he’s cheating on me behind my back.
A small squeak escapes me before I can stop it.
“Bella?”
Scrambling upwards in my seat, I try to ignore the pounding in my chest.
This is all in my head, a silly little thought that has spiraled, that’s all.
Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, I give Cindy a smile that is no doubt strained and take a sip of wine.
I’ll talk to him about it after the game.
I’m about to reassure her that I’m fine when one of the women pipes up again in an attempt at a whisper. Cindy and I aren’t the only ones that have been drinking tonight. The girls behind me can’t whisper at all. It’s a miracle
they aren’t shouting.
“Do you think he’s over it now?”
“Over it? Tash, that’s so insensitive.”
“What? It made him all grouchy and moody. He’s much more fun when he’s bubbly.”
“Tash!” the other scolds. “His brother died for fuck’s sake. Show some empathy.”
Every sound around the arena ceases. Grayson skates across the rink heading directly for the home bench, his eyes shadowed as he frowns at my stunned expression. Quickly masking my features does nothing; I wasn’t quick enough to hide my shock.
Cindy is saying something to me, but I can’t hear anything with the roar
of blood in my ears.
His brother died?
