Page 82 of Second-Rate Superstar

“Lucy and Preston are on their way up for the weekend. Traffic from Manhattan during Friday night rush hour is a real bitch, with everyone coming to theircountryhomes for the weekend. They should make it in time for the after-party.”

My eyebrows rose. “After-party?”

Hannah cocked her head. “Braxton didn’t tell you?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t tell me about the milestone game for Jaxon at all. I found out when I got here.”

“Interesting.” Her lips twisted. “Well, anyway. After the game, we’ve got a room rented out at a nearby restaurant, a little post-game celebration for the man of the hour. I’m sure Braxton will extend an invite later.”

“Yeah, maybe.” If I knew Braxton, he’d need space from his brother after the spectacle earlier.

“Amy and Liam aren’t going to make it. Liam’s gone all guard dog over the baby and put his foot down when he realized how many people—or rather, germs—Nate would be exposed to. That, and he practically threwa fit over the idea of there being nowhere private enough for Amy to breastfeed.”

I took a sip of my drink, measuring my words carefully, considering those people were her friends. “That sounds . . . controlling.”

Hannah barked out a laugh. “Oh, it is. But don’t you worry about our Amy. She’s no doormat and has learned how to pick her battles. Little secret between you and me; half the time, she lets him believe he’s calling the shots.”

“And the other half?” I hedged.

A wicked grin split her face. “That’s when you grab the popcorn. Amy is calm and rational, but when pushed too far, she knows exactly how to put her husband in his place. Everyone thinks Cal and I are fun to watch, and they might be right because our showtimes are more frequent. But an Amy Michaels outburst followed by a Liam Remington meltdown is worth the wait.”

Surprised, I asked, “She kept her last name?”

“Oh yeah.” Hannah nodded. “Amy isn’t a wilting flower. Not by a long shot. That badass boss bitch is going to make one hell of a queen.”

It still blew me away that people in that friend group were actual royalty. They were so down-to-earth. It was refreshing to see that they were regular people like the rest of us. A title didn’t define them, didn’t dictate their attitudes.

It struck me that this was a turning point in my life.

Preconceived notions hadn’t gotten me anywhere to this point. It was time to hang them all up, once and for all.

The Comets were crushing the Glaciers. Well into the third period, the Comets led by a score of five to one. That came with a little extra lesson from Hannah at my side as the Glaciers changed their goalie after the fourth goal. She explained that a netminder’s mental game needed to be as strong as his physical one, and after a few too many goals let in, they could start to doubt themselves, leading to even more goals against. So, changing it up and replacing them—even though their backup came in cold—was sometimes enough to change the tide or at least stop the bleeding.

There had only been one goal for the home team since the goalie swap, so it seemed to be working. But with only five minutes left on the clock, a win for the Comets was inevitable.

Everyone in the box was in good spirits with the team doing well. Hannah and Bristol bonded sometime in the second period over cum sponges. Hannah had never heard of such a thing, and listening to Bristol’s description, my anxiety shot through the roof, knowing she wasn’t doubling up on protection with Nix. That girl was inviting trouble.

Hannah scoffed beside me. “Fucking pointless.”

“What?” I searched the ice, trying to pinpoint what she was referring to.

Using a finger, she gestured to the Glaciers’ net. “Pulled the goalie. What’s the point down four? Like, come on, you didn’t score more than one goal in the last fifty-seven minutes, but you think you’re gonna light it up in the final three?”

This scenario hadn’t come up in my research, so I asked, “What’s thebenefit?”

Shrugging, Hannah sighed. “So, if you take your goalie out of the net, you can throw out an extra skater. It’s like a power play, in a way. But there’s a risk involved. As you can see, it leaves the net open and vulnerable. Makes it very easy for the other team to score a free goal if they can clear the zone.”

Almost as if she conjured it into existence, a flash of navy caught my eye. A Comets player was streaking toward the empty net with the puck. It took less than a second to realize it was Braxton, and I was on my feet screaming, “Shoot!” like he could hear me over the twenty thousand other fans yelling and cheering for him.

The second he crossed the blue line, he lined up the shot, sliding it in nice and easy across the ice and into the net. Everyone went nuts. And I wasn’t talking about regular goal cheering. There was hooting and hollering, and suddenly, things were being thrown onto the ice.

Leaning over, I tried to get a good look at exactly what it was. Wasn’t that dangerous? It had to be against the rules, right?

Scanning the seats below us, I saw a man whip off his ball cap and heave it over the glass and onto the ice.

What the hell?

Hannah had two fingers in her mouth. The whistle that followed had me cringing at the volume.

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