Page 71 of Hat Trick

I twist my head, glancing to my right toward the line of folks seated on the other side of the Plexiglas. The two dudes closest to the barrier bump arms and then point at me. Nothing new, even though I’d prefer it if they didn’t look at me like I’m some weird-ass animal in azoo.

Bringing my bottle up to my mouth again, I squeeze my hand to squirt out more energy drink. Time to get my head back in the game before I lose focus and shit hits thefan.

Persistent knocking on the Plexiglas has me looking at the dudes again, only this time they’re holding a cell phone against the divider. My gaze catches the headline, and my stomach roils withnausea.

Fuck.

“Hunt!” Coach Hall from my left. “You’rein!”

I can’t stop looking at the article on the phone. He did it. My motherfucker of a brother turned that shit in like I’m nothing tohim.

Fury burns in my veins as Hall shouts my name again. “Hunt! Get on the fuckingice!”

I don’t remember skating back to my position. I don’t remember making pass after pass at the net, to my teammates. I don’t remember making an assist that wins the game or doing anything remotely worthy of landing on ESPN’s top ten plays for the nextmorning.

Betrayal clouds my vision and there’s nothing I can do to stopit.

By the time we make it to the locker-room, I’m already steamrolling toward my locker where all my shit is. My hands tear at my duffel bag as I search for myphone.

I need to call my lawyer, my agent, mypublicist.

Dave Hunt has risen from the dead, and he’s determined to drag me down intohell.

29

Gwen

“That one,”I say, pointing to a beautiful mermaid-silhouette wedding gown on one of the mannequins. “That one is totallyyours.”

Next to me, Charlie sips the champagne Nina, the wedding consultant, brought us when we arrived for Zoe’sappointment.

“I feel fancy,” Charlie mutters out of the corner of her mouth. “Whenever Duke and I get married, I want only champagne at ourwedding.”

“I have a feeling that’ll be sooner rather than later,” Zoe says, sipping her own champagne while we wait for Nina to return with the next round of dresses. “Duke can barely keep his hands offyou.”

Charlie flicks back her blond hair with flair. “Do you know something I don’tknow?”

Zoe and I exchange looks over our friend’s head. If we knew Morse code, our blinking would probably say something likethis:

Do you knowanything?

Nope. Doyou?

Nada. Dammit, the men don’t tell usanything.

I pat Charlie’s knee. “I bet he’s planning a proposal as we speak. I mean, realistically speaking, you two are definitely the couple who would wake up one morning and decide to go to the courthouse and gethitched.”

Charlie grins into her champagne glass. “You know us sowell.”

I don’t know why I do it, because it’s certainly not the time or the place, but I nudge my friend in the arm. In a low voice, I murmur, “I’m sorry, you know. For how I was in college and then . . . everything with Duke when the two of you starteddating.”

She blinks back at me. Stunned, maybe? Tossing back the rest of her bubbly, she sets the glass on the table beside her. “Gwen, I forgave you a while ago. What brought this onnow?”

Clearly, I’m getting sentimental in my oldage.

I motion toward Zoe, who’s standing on the little elevated platform in a dress she described as “eh”but nothing to write home about. If it takes her another forty-eight tries, I know I’d sit here and pound back champagne with Charlie until Zoe found the perfect gown. “I guess I’m just saying thank you—for not writing me off when you could have. For giving me the chance to prove to you that I’m not a total ReginaGeorge.”

From the platform, Zoe laughs. “You kinda are a Regina,though.”

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