Page 31 of If You Need Me

“It’s the offseason, and there’s no reason they should use the auxiliary rink when the men’s team isn’t on the ice. We’ve been over this before, so I’m not sure why we’re discussing it again.”

“That means it’s not available for the junior boys’ summer team.”

“So they can use the auxiliary rink.”

“I promised their coach they would have the opportunity to play there, so you need to move the women’s team.”

I come to a halt, and he skids to a stop, huffing with the effort of keeping up with me. “I’m sorry, what was it you said to me last month when I inquired about using the primary rink? That it was first come, first served and maybe next time I’d have my shit together?”

“Why are you always so difficult?” He tugs at his tie. “We could have done this the nice way, Hemi. Now I’ll just have to go over your head.” He storms off in the opposite direction. I take a deep breath and shake it off. Being nice about it means giving him his way, it seems. But I stand by my position, and he was never going to be nice about it with me anyway. I guess now he’ll talk to one of the coaches and plead his case. He’s been here longer than I have, and sometimes, his seniority wins out. But I will not be the one to break this news to Denise, the women’s coach; that will be Topher’s job, if he gets his way.

I check in to make sure our VIPs are taken care of before I head back toward the arena entrance. I find Hammer and Tally waiting for me with their clipboards in hand.

“Everything okay?” Hammer asks.

“Peachy. Thanks for asking. How’s it going down here?” I look around the arena. Months of planning and this is it. It’s a sold-out game, and it’s being broadcast live. The ticket proceeds will go to two local charities, and afterward we’ll have an online auction giving fans an opportunity to bid on signed jerseys, sticks, and special items donated by the players and celebrities.

“We’re good to go. There was a minor hiccup on the second level, but we handled it. It’s going to be kickass,” she assures me.

“I love the jerseys for this,” Tally says.

“It was a lot of fun to work with the design team on them,” Hammer says.

“You know you’re full-time in charge of that now,” I tell her. Hammer has been helping the marketing team make deals with local designers so that the Terror brand stays relevant.

She nods. “I am one-hundred-percent good with that.”

Rix, Shilpa, and Dred join us in the first row behind the bench, and we settle in to enjoy the game. Normally we’re all up in a suite together. It’s nice being this close to the action.

The players take the ice one at a time, and the crowd screams and claps their approval. This game is celebrities against pro players. It’s all about fun and raising money for charity. I’m surprised when Dallas starts shit-talking and getting all worked up about the celebrities first goal, shortly after the game starts.

I knock on the glass, and he glances over his shoulder.

I give him a look.

He blows me a kiss.

But he keeps it up, scoring two goals in the first five minutes. Roman lets in two goals for the celebrity players to tie it up.

“What the hell is his deal?” I mutter. “This is supposed to be for fun.”

“Seems like maybe he’s a little jealous of your history with Eric,” Hammer whispers.

“No.” I immediately dismiss the idea.

Hammer shrugs. “He keeps stealing the puck from him.”

It would make sense if we wereactuallydating and he had something to be jealous of. But we’re not, and he doesn’t. “He needs to settle down.”

But he keeps up with the chippy playing and the aggressive moves on the ice, to the point that Ash blocks him from scoring another goal in the second period.

During a short break in play, the camera pans to one of the boxes, zeroing in on the last people I want to see today. “Oh for fuck’s sake, why do they have to be here?” I mutter.

“Who?” Shilpa asks.

“Brooklyn and Sean.” I shake my head.

The company he works for sponsors a box. Usually he attends with his coworkers, and I avoid him. There’s no reason to seek him out. I also fully acknowledge I shouldn’t care about him at all. But of course he’s here with my ex-best friend today.And of course they’re kissing on the damn Jumbotron for the whole arena to witness. I’m an adult, it shouldn’t matter. Except why does it feel like they’re always rubbing salt in the wound?

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