Page 114 of Holiday Hostilities

“Where?”

“What?” Jake blinks.

“Where’s the press conference taking place?”

Reagan gives me directions towards the media area, and I take off running.

I’m not sure what Aaron’s going to say, but I know that I want to be there for him. Jake’s words about Aaron putting me before hockey are at the forefront of my mind, and I’m beyond annoyed that he’s being questioned again over a photo of the two of us in whatwasan intimate, special moment.

I want to be there to show him that I believe in him, no matter what.

I throw open the door to the media area, but a security guard I don’t recognize steps in my way.

“Sorry, lady. Press only from this point onwards.”

“I’m Aaron Marino’s girlfriend,” I explain hurriedly, turning to show him the MARINO printed across the back of my number 22 crimson jersey.

The guard only guffaws. “Like that proves anything. There are thousands of fans in here tonight wearing that jersey.” He narrows his eyes skeptically. “Let me guess. You’re one of those ‘army chicks,’ aren’t you?”

“The term is Aaron’s Army,” I correct him proudly. “And yes, I guess I am. But seriously, I’m Aaron’s actual girlfriend. And Jake Griswold’s sister. I need to get in there.”

He crosses his arms. “No media pass, no entry.”

This almost makes me laugh. Running into this press conference is the exact kind of thing I would have runfromin the past. Because if Jake and Reagan—and my gut instinct—are correct, I’m walking into a room full of people talking about me, critiquing me, making me feel like I don’t belong.

And today, I’m runningtowardsall of that.

Because if Aaron’s there, Idobelong. And no matter what they’re saying about him—saying aboutus—showing up for him is what matters.

My mind races as I try to think of a way to get this brute to let me through. But at that moment, that Sadie Whatshername woman walks up behind me, looking very sharklike in a navy-blue suit and stilettos.

“Oh! She knows me!” I point at Sadie. “She can vouch.”

Sadie’s icy eyes narrow on me, then flick to the guard. “What’s going on?”

“I need to get in there,” I tell her.

“Isn’t that sweet? You want to be there when your boy-toy talks to the press.” She laughs dismissively, clearly intending to saunter on by without helping.

Then, her eyes take on a gleam and she stops. Turns back towards me.

“Actually, she’s right,” Sadie tells the guard. “She’s Olivia Griswold—Jake’s sister and Aaron’s current flirtation.”

“Girlfriend,” I correct tightly.

Sadie waves a hand. “Semantics. She’s with me, Clark. She can come in.”

“Okay, Miss Lincoln.” Clark nods and lets us both inside.

The room is packed with cameras and reporters all jostling and bustling around chaotically, speaking over each other in a cacophony. While Sadie stalks up to take a seat in the front row, I hang back, crossing the room to slide into a chair near the back corner. I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention—I just want Aaron to see that I’m here supporting him. That we’re in this together.

A few minutes later, Aaron walks into the room flanked by Coach Torres and another one of the Cyclones’ coaches. He doesn’t spot me right away, but I’m sure he’s not expecting me to be here.

They take their seats at the front, and almost immediately begin answering questions about the game tonight, their thoughts on the loss, and how they played.

It’s all very civilized…

At first.

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