Page 148 of Ice Dance Hockey

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I’m wearing a New York Eagles jersey with Rhett’s surname and hockey number—ninety-seven—on the back. It has long sleeves that cover my arm tattoos, but the one going up the left side of my neck is still on display and I’m not sure it’s going to fit the vibe. I wish I’d covered it with makeup, but too late for that now.

Gathering all the courage I have, I show the badge around my neck, and a man and woman, both in suits, let me into the infamous Wives and Husbands’ room.

A tall woman dressed in a team jersey and jeans spies me as soon as I enter. “You must be Logan,” she says, extending a hand. “I’m Tabby, Rhett told me all about you.”

She’s the one he flirted with, isn’t she? My blood boils, but I don’t blame her. Rhett’s charm can’t be helped when he blasts it at someone, but he can help by not blasting it in the first place.

“Yeah, it’s Logan.”I’m too young to be here. I’m too me to be here. Why am I here?

“C’mon, I’ll introduce you around.”

I meet everyone and they tell me who their hockey husband is, which I forget immediately, except for the one guy who’s clearly sizing me up. Looks like I’ve met Rhett’s one-night adventure. I accept the glass of wine I’m given, vowing to work the calories off by ripping Rhett a new asshole later.

After two glasses, I’m less anxious about being here and relax into the conversation I’ve been eavesdropping. One of the husbands—Bruce, I think?—is complaining about the life of a Hockey Husband.

“God, I hope they keep him. Last year, we lived in three cities in the span of eleven months. Each time, I had to find new schools, new doctors and new dentists.”

“Does that happen often?” I ask without thinking. Rhett said he had a ten-year contract, right? I think I remember him saying that.

“You’ll learn, sweetie,” he says. It’s all he says, as if he wants me to suffer the life he has so that he’s not doing it alone.

I text Rhett to confirm his status with the team.

“Oh good, you’re speaking to me again,” he responds. “That’s right. It’s a ten-year deal.”

Phew. I slide my phone back into my pocket without answering so that he knows he’s not forgiven yet.

“Logan here won’t have to. Rhett has a ten-year contract,” another man says. The one I’m sure is the one who slept with my boyfriend. Fuck that guy. I wasn’t going to mention it.

Everyone looks my way. I clear my throat. “Um, yeah. He does.”

“Then he’s lucky to have him,” Tabby says.

“Yeah, but you don’t get real hockey spouse status until you’ve lived on opposite ends of the continent in the space of a season.” Jim. I think it’s Jim saying that. Jim’s the one I suspect Rhett had the thing with. Fucked him. Whatever.

“He’s nineteen. They just started dating. Give it time.” That statement from Tabby places her in the motherly category for me. She’s sticking up for the young guy, which is nice, I guess. I’d like her even more if she refrained from flirting with my boyfriend.

No one in this room can be much older than Rhett, yet—I’ve learned over the course of the night—that they’re all married. Is that a hockey wife, hockey husband thing?

“That’s another thing. Who let him in here? I thought the rule was a one-season minimum? With the way Elkington goes through men, this kid will be yesterday’s news after a couple of games.”

That’s it.

Before I can show him that ice dancers don’t just dance, a hand tugs me away and into a corner. The hand belongs to a guy my age with sharp eyes that are framed by glasses and dark hair. He’s wearing a jersey like I am, jeans, and a chunky pair of white Converse shoes.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask.

“Got here late, but in time to hear all that. I’m Kamiko. You can call me Kam or Miko. You must be Logan.”

“Yeah,” I say, and I’m about fed up. I get that Rhett and I are a new story and that this particular crew is full of gossip queens, but I’m done with them knowing me before I know them. I down my wine. “I was just leaving.”

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t let them get to you. It’s better to have friends in this life than not.”

“This life. You guys make it sound like a biker gang. Jesus, do you hear yourself?”

He laughs. “Know what? You’re right. It’s just like that.”

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