Page 116 of Offside Angel

The players on the ice are little more than streaks in my vision. My chest is tight, so heavy I can’t lift it to inhale fully. I’m surviving on tiny sips of air.

I just need to make it through the first period and then we can go back to the box. Or I’ll pretend to be sick and we can leave.

Another roar moves through the crowd, and I shrink in my seat like a turtle hiding in its shell.

I try to keep my eyes on Zane—nothing can go too horribly wrong when he’s here—but I have a hard time tracking him in the sea of red. So I shift my gaze to the back of the heads in front of us, but I keep imagining one of them turning around.

My brother’s face grinning at me.

I spin around, looking for the nearest exit in case of an emergency and the realization that there are so many people sitting behind me—people I don’t know; people I can’t see—makes my chest clench even tighter.

The crowd roars again and I yelp. Actually yelp.

“That’s your man!” Taylor grabs my arm and waves it in the air, and I think I’m going to be sick.

As she drops my arm and it slaps against my side, someone touches my shoulder.

I whip around so fast, my purse smacks the girl in front of us in the back of the head. She complains and Taylor apologizes, but I’m looking up at Evan. And for the first time in I-don’t-even-know-how-many minutes, I take a breath.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice low. The people behind him are leaning around him, whining about their view being compromised by a walking, talking giant. “You look nervous.”

I can’t even answer. All I can do is pinch my lips together and shake my head.

“Come on.”

Evan helps me out of my chair and whispers something to Taylor. She gathers up Aiden and his candy and follows after us.

My heart races as we mount the stairs, as people in the stands turn to look at us, confused. Maybe they recognize me from the paparazzi pictures. Or they might just be annoyed at the people blocking their view during the game.

Either way, I don’t relax until we’re in the box and the door is closed.

“Shit, Mimi.” Taylor rubs my arm. “You should’ve told me you weren’t doing well. We could’ve come up here.”

“I thought I—” I blow out a harsh breath, ignoring the tremble in my voice. “I thought I could take care of it on my own. I guess I was wrong.”

While we wait for the players to file out of the locker room, Evan doesn’t leave my side. He’s my shadow, and I want to hug him. I want to give him a raise. I want to send him on an all-expenses-paid trip to Aruba… except then he’d leave my side, so I scrap that idea and decide to talk to Zane about giving him a raise.

“Aiden is with Jemma in the box,” he reminds me softly. “They aren’t supposed to leave until I go back to escort them.”

“Thank you, Evan. Really. For everything. I was losing it back there and?—”

“It’s my job.” His voice is curt, but he presses a friendly hand to the back of my shoulder, steadying me.

The players start filing out and the panicked part of my brain is convinced Zane won’t be with them. Every situation has only one outcome and it’s the worst-case scenario.

While I was freaking out, Dante got into the locker room and is holding Zane?—

Then Zane turns the corner with damp hair and a wide grin, and I want to collapse. From relief and exhaustion. It’s tiring being this doom-and-gloom about everything.

When he snags me off the wall and loops his arm around my shoulders, I sink against his side.

“You left your seat.”

I feel him looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. As soon as I do, he’ll see exactly how messed up I am.

“We wanted to go to the box instead.”

“Before the game, Aiden couldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to be in the crowd.” Zane shakes hands as we pass people, but his arm never leaves my shoulders.

---