Page 82 of Sinful Secrets

“The players do things like that all the time. At least this season they are winning. The past two seasons have been pretty bad and local support was nearly non-existent. That’s one goodthing about having Mr. Marino as the new owner. Every game has been sold out.”

I lower my voice until it’s barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I have a feeling it’s not because of the team.”

“You might be right, but who am I to complain?” She laughs and points toward the ice. “Warm-ups are about to start if you want to watch.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind helping with whatever is going on.”

“I’m sure. I’ll come get you when we need you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back upstairs. Maybe I’ll find a rich guy to sweep me off my feet.” She laughs and skips down the tunnel before disappearing around the corner.

I stand behind the net in the Zamboni tunnel and watch as both teams take the ice. The Savannah Sharks are wearing their blue home jerseys while the other team, the Texas Titans, are wearing white and red jerseys.

The Sharks split up into tiny groups.

A few players skate around this half of the ice, posing for pictures with a child or a fan. Another player tosses a practice puck over the glass.

Several fans wave signs and scream for their favorite player as they drop to the ice to stretch.

As the arena fills, the energy becomes electric.

The players shoot pucks at our net. The goalie smacks several pucks away with his stick and catches a couple in his glove. He only lets in a few.

He’s a fan favorite, and by the way this season is going, I can see why. He has one of the best records in the NHL so far.

I catch Spencer’s gaze as he skates around the back of the net. He doesn’t give me a smile, but he doesn’t frown. It’s almost as if he’s looking right through me.

Maybe dinner and talking aren’t as good of a thing as I hoped. What if he wants to split up for good?

Standing here watching Spencer only leaves me feeling more confused and uneasy. He doesn’t glance my way or come near the net again.

When warm-ups end, Avery leads me to an office and hands me a cardboard sign that reads ‘GET LOUD!’

“You and Christy will stand on this side and will alternate waving your signs during every stoppage. She’s a pro and a great mentor, so I trust she will show you the ropes.” Avery turns around and scurries off, leaving Christy and me alone.

I recognize Christy. She’s the team leader who told me I made the team.

She waves her sign at me. It says ‘YELL.’ “Hi, I’m Christy, and this is my fourth year on the team. Everyone calls me bubbles because I have a big personality. It’s true what they say. Everything is bigger in Texas.”

Her thick southern accent echoes off the walls of the small office.

“I’m Savannah.”

She nods and her blonde hair bounces. “I saw you at tryouts and could tell right away that you were going to be on the team. You just need to work on smiling more. Come on, I’ll show you where we will be.”

She’s bubbly and energetic, like she just downed a dozen shots of espresso. There’s no way I can match her energy, but maybe for a while I can forget about my problems and enjoy being surrounded by her happiness.

I follow her to a small platform where we stand side-by-side facing the crowd.

“Sorry we missed the introductions and the Anthem.”

“We did? We weren’t in the office that long.” I glance behind me to see both benches full of players and staff.

She shrugs. “Long enough I guess.”

The crowd settles down as the game starts.

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