Page 29 of Power Play

NINE

PIPER

“I can’t waitto yee and haw all night. How do we not have one of these in DC? Talk about a missed opportunity.” Lexi holds my hand as we maneuver to the bar through throngs of people. “I think I want to be a cowgirl.”

“The fact that you had boots in your suitcase without knowing we were going to end up at a western bar in Edmonton is a sign you have a new calling in life,” I say, narrowly avoiding a spilled drink. “Forget being an athletic trainer.”

“Maybe I can be a trainer on a rodeo circuit. Emmy mentioned some distant cousin of hers has a ranch out west. That might be my next stop after hockey.” She looks the boys up and down and grins. “It would only be for the jeans and boots, if we’re being honest. I need to offer up some praise to the patron god of denim. You know I would never do anything with anyone on the team, butdamndo the guys look good tonight in something other than their hockey gear.”

I laugh and watch the team take up the entire floor space of Back Porch, the small and dimly lit dive bar we barged into ten minutes ago. Almost everyone came out tonight—even Coach Saunders—and they’re decked out in everything from plaid shirts rolled to their elbows and frayed Levi’s.

Grant has on a pair of boots and Ethan is wearing a cowboy hat he didn’t have on when we left the hotel. There’s a bandana tied around Maverick’s neck, but he looks more like a sad bank robber who’s never been in a heist in his life than someone who lives out west.

A for effort, though.

It’s nice to see them all letting loose. They can be goofballs at practice, messing around and pranking each other with silly string and whoopee cushions like they’re in middle school, but the second the puck drops and the clock starts for a game, they’re professional. Men who know they have a job to do and are being watched by twenty thousand fans making sure they don’t mess up.

The boys are definitely acting like they’re off the clock now. From the way they’re smiling for photos, signing shirts, and ordering trays of beer like they are cups of water, I think it’s safe to say they’re about to enter party mode.

“If we can get through the night without anyone getting arrested or lighting something on fire, it’ll be a win.” I lean my elbows on the counter and smile at the bartender. “Could I get a gin and tonic, please?”

“Make that two, please. Where’s Maven?” Lexi yells over the growing noise. More people are piling into the already cramped building, and I’m willing to bet the Stars’ whereabouts got shared to social media. We might be in enemy territory, but everyone loves NHL teams. “I thought she’d be here.”

“She said she wasn’t feeling well. Mentioned a headache and wanting to have an early night.”

“I’ll have to record the boys trying to ride the mechanical bull for her to watch on the flight home tomorrow. Ten bucks says one of them breaks an arm.”

“Coach will kill them if that happens, but you know one of them is going to try.”

The bartender sets a pair of glasses in front of us. When I pull out my wallet to pay, he shakes his head.

“Already taken care of.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder, and I lean to my left to see where he’s pointing. “The guy in the blue shirt down there wanted to send them your way.”

“Oh.” I smile politely at the man. He’s half the size of the hockey guys and dressed totally different with a tie, pens shoved in his shirt pocket, and a tweed jacket. He looks like he might be an accountant or engineer, and I lift the gifted glass in appreciation. “That was nice of him.”

“Poor dude probably thinks his chances of getting lucky went downhill when the team got here, and now he’s pulling out all the stops.” Lexi knocks her glass against mine. “How will he ever survive?”

“Maybe his left hand will help.”

“Piper Mitchell isfeisty, folks, and she hasn’t had a sip of alcohol yet.” She grins and spins, surveying the scene in front of us. “Are you doing okay? You were phenomenal on the mic tonight, but it seems like you’re holding something back. Like you don’t want to celebrate this huge milestone of yours. One of the players didn’t give you shit, did they? I’ll put them through hell if they did.”

I stir my drink and watch Riley pull out a roll of quarters from his pocket for the jukebox in the corner of the bar. The song changes from George Strait to Johnny Cash, the opening lines of “Walk the Line” blaring through the speakers, and I hesitate before answering.

I haven’t told the girls about everything that’s happened this last week. It’s too powerful of a conversation to have over the phone, and to be honest, I’m still processing all the intense highs and lows I’ve gone through.

Idowant to celebrate this huge milestone of mine because it should be celebrated, but I don’t want it clouded by misogynisticassholes. The comments I still hear in my head and the way my confidence has taken a nosedive straight to hell.

Maybe I can start by enjoying tonight. Accepting drinks from men I don’t know. Line dancing to loud music and riding a mechanical bull. There’s not a better place in the world to welcome this new part of my life than with the team I love and one of my best friends.

I exhale. The weight I’ve been carrying around slowly slips out of my grasp as my smile turns from hesitant to bold, coming to life under the house lights and the smell of cheap beer.

“I’m okay. I needed some time to process some things, but I’m on the up now and excited to be here.” I rest my head on Lexi’s shoulder. “And please don’t punish any of the guys. They’ve been nothing but nice to me. That lineup before the game? I had to hold back the tears so my mascara didn’t run.”

“We have a good group with them, don’t we?”

“Yeah. We do.”

I scan the rest of the crowded room, and that’s when I see him.

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