Page 50 of Captain's Claim

Okay.Okay.This is fine. Totally normal, new world stuff? Everyone will be distracted by the game today, and nothing will come of this. Right? RIGHT?!

***

The stadium is electric. A roaring sea of gray and green, flags waving, scarves held high, an entire town collectively losing its damn mind over their team.

There's five minutes left in the game and the Icehawks lead three-zip against Montreal. The energy isferal.

I take a slow sip of my cocktail, the tangy mix of raspberry and lemon fizz swirling across my tongue. But in my glass, there's something decadent and expensive catching the light.

I swirl my glass before my eyes, frowning as I follow the little floaties inside the liquid.

Gold flakes. There are gold flakes in my drink.

“Holy shit,” Natalie murmurs beside me, eyes locked on the ice. “That’s his second goal tonight. Kid’s on fire.”

She’s talking about Ryder, who’s just ripped another puck into the back of the net, sending the entire stadium into meltdown.

Beside us in the corporate box, Eli Thompson practically levitates out of his seat, hands thrown in the air, beer sloshing dangerously close to the half empty tray of wagyu sliders on the buffet table.

“ATTA BOY, RYDER! BURN ‘EM TO THE GROUND!”

Big Mike, already one too many drinks into the night, waves a dismissive hand. “Relax, Thompson. Game’s not over yet.”

“Bah.” Eli scoffs, waving him off. "As good as buried… BURIED!"

I arch a brow, sipping my drink. “Isn’t that what LA’s coach said last time?”

Eli grins, tossing a peanut into his mouth. “Damn right. And where is he now?Unemployed.”

Natalie nudges me suddenly, drawing my attention from the ice.

“Look,” she nods toward the crowd.

It takes me a second to find what she’s seeing. And then, there, in the middle of section 102, Mia is standing, waving a massive handmade sign like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

RYDER’S MY BESTIE!

It’s covered in red hearts and glitter, as if she raided a kindergarten art class and went crazy. As Ryder skates past theboards, he spots it. His grin is instant. Beaming. Like she’s the only person in this entire arena who exists.

He taps his stick against the glass once, smiles at Mia and mouths something that I can't quite catch, then skates off, still smiling like an idiot.

I blink. “That’s… cute?”

Natalie sighs so hard I feel it in my soul.

“It would be cuter if they weren’t so in denial. Honestly, it’s exhausting watching two people be that obsessed with each other and not just do it already.”

I hum, sipping my drink again, still amazed that I'm consuminggold. Gold!

I know. It's edible. And probably just those fancy flecks they put on cakes and shit these days to look all fancy and rich.

But still.

Greg, meanwhile, has barely looked at the game. He’s glued to his phone, no doubt tracking engagement numbers of that stupid video like it’s thestock market.

Every time my phone pings in the back pocket of my jeans, I know it’s another wave of chaos from that damn video.

I don’t look. I refuse to look.

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