Page 24 of Easton

The score is currently 2-0, which is great, especially since it’s been kind of an open contest. Luckily, our goaltender has been beyond amazing. Still, we need to shut things down in the third and tighten up defensively to hold our slim lead.

It’s the second period now, but time is winding down. In fact, there are only nine seconds left.

9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1, and the buzzer sounds.

The players leave the ice and a bunch of folks around us stand up, readying to go get food or drinks or head to the restrooms.

Madison and I decide to just remain in our seats during intermission so we can sit and talk.

Leaning back, I ask her, “Are you having a good time?”

Though she’s been a hockey fan for a while now, this is her first in-person game. I told Easton that I definitely wanted to bring her to this matchup. She needs to see hockey in person.

“Hell yeah,” my friend replies as she nods excitedly, her soft blonde curls bouncing. “I’ve always liked hockey, but being at a game is, like, next-level. You were so right.”

“It is amazing,” I agree. “So much more fun than watching it on TV.”

“Definitely,” she replies. “I hope we can come to more games.”

“Pfft,” I snort. “Are you kidding? Easton can get us tickets to any game we want to go to.”

“Hmmm, I guess that’s one of the perks of being married to a hockey player, huh?”

I shrug, and she narrows her green eyes at me. “What?” I ask.

“I was just thinking again about how I told you Easton was my client for that big house up in Cave Creek. But you never said a word that day about how you knew him. Annnd,” she goes on, “then you freaking run off and marry the dude. I’m never goingto forgive you, by the way, for not having me as your maid of honor.”

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes at her. “Since when do you get into weddings?”

Madison is not the most romantic person. She’s actually a “love ’em and leave ’em” kind of gal. She’s a bit of a heartbreaker, that one.

“I guess you’re right,” she admits. And then she waggles her brows. “But I could get into playing pretend wedding night with that hot linemate of Easton’s.”

Oooh, now I’m curious.

“Wait, who?’ I ask. “Do you mean Lennox or Shane?”

“Lennox,” she replies. “Maybe you or Easton can arrange for us to meet sometime.”

Aha, now I know why she was defending him earlier.

But I have to warn her, “He’s a real player, Madison. And I don’t mean just on the ice.”

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Who cares? I’m kind of a player myself.”

This is true.

Still, though, I’m reticent to set my friend up for potential heartbreak, especially with Easton’s linemate. It could cause all kinds of trouble if it doesn’t end well.

I’m thankful the third period is about to start. People are returning to their seats, and Madison and I have to stand several times to let them down the row. All the ups and downs put an end to any further talk of helping her hook up in any way with Lennox.

I mean, come on, I have enough on my plate with playing my role of pretend wife. I don’t need to add “for-real matchmaker” to my résumé.

We win the first game of the season, and, man, it feels great. Not only do we earn two points, but we do it against a division rival. That makes the victory that much sweeter.

But what’s even better is that Claire was there the whole time watching me. It reminded me of old times when she would come to my high school games.

That’s why I did the same thing I used to do when she was in the front row at a rink. I skated by during some downtimes, smiled at her, and tapped the glass with my stick.

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