Page 81 of Second-Rate Superstar

Natalie smiled, shaking her head, pushing a stroller. “The man is a softie for his kids. What can I say?”

As soon as she saw me, Hannah cried, “Oh! Baby Braxton’s girl is here!”

She made a beeline to where I sat with Bristol. Eyeing up my best friend, she flicked her wrist. “Move over.”

You didn’t have to tell Bristol twice. She scrambled off that barstool quickly, allowing Hannah to sit between us.

Once seated, Hannah turned to Bristol, scanning her appraisingly. “So. You’re the roommate?”

Bristol sat up straighter, trying to impress the woman who might as well be her personal hero. “Yes, ma’am.”

A melodic laugh slipped past Hannah’s perfectly painted lips, and she turned to me. “She’s cute, but if she calls mema’amagain, I might have to hurt her.”

Panicked, Bristol blurted, “Sorry, ma’am. Shit. Sorry. I mean, Miss Moreau.” Her cheeks flushed pink, and I hid a grin beneath my hand at seeing her flustered. There was a first time for everything, it seemed.

Biting back a smile, Hannah turned back to Bristol. “Just Hannah is fine.”

Nodding enthusiastically, she replied, “Right. Hannah. Got it.”

“What’s a hot little thing like you doing fucking around with Levi Nixon? You could do so much better.”

Bristol’s mouth dropped open, probably wondering how Hannah knew about her relationship with Nix, but I’d place my bets that she was star-struck that her idol had called her hot.

“I—um,” she stammered.

Hannah patted her shoulder. “It’s okay. One day, you’ll look back and think of him as your hockey hunk training wheels. A starter player, if you will. When you find the right one, you’ll know. Trust me.”

Turning forward, Hannah leaned over the high-top table to peek at the action on the ice. Leaning in, I whispered, “Don’t tell her I said this, but you just made her night.”

A hint of self-satisfaction colored her words. “It truly is God’s work.”

As I followed her line of sight, I had to admit Braxton was right when he said the live action would be hard to follow. Bodies moved everywhere on the ice, but there was beauty in the chaos—or what seemed like chaos. The more I watched, the more I realized it was perfectly controlled and coordinated. The timing of players jumping the boards on ashift change, the positions they swapped effortlessly to create space, how they moved a few inches to the side to avoid a hit from an opponent.

My eyes tracked Braxton, his powerful strides carrying him across the ice. The crowd grew louder, and I tried to figure out why. Something must be happening. That’s when I saw two navy jerseys streaking toward the Glacier goalie. Other players I assumed were defensemen chased them, but the gap was too large. They’d never catch them.

On the edge of my seat, I held my breath as Jaxon cradled the puck on the blade of his stick—yeah, I was getting better at learning the hockey terms. When it looked like he was going to shoot on the goalie, he passed the puck to Braxton. Faster than I could blink, the puck was in the back of the net, and a horn sounded.

Hannah screamed, “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Stunned, I stared as everyone in the arena rose to their feet, cheering for the Comets’ goal.

“So much better in person. Am I right?” She nudged me with her shoulder.

“Uh-huh.”

Braxton’s smiling face lit up the big screen as his brother pulled him into a hug. He might hate the circumstances, but deep down, he loved this game.

The screen switched to a replay of how they’d obtained a clear path to the opposing team’s goalie. It might as well have been poetry in motion the way Braxton charged the defenseman at the blue line. The puck hit off his shin so hard it bounced into the neutral zone, where Jaxon turned on the jets to get there first. Before anyone knew what was happening, the Slate brothers were off to races. Absolutely incredible.

Dizzy from the adrenaline rush of watching him score, I placed a hand to the side of my head.

“Never gets old,” Hannah mused.

“I bet,” I breathed out.

Peeking around the suite, I saw a small area set up for the kids where they played on their knees, similar to the way we had in the basement on Thanksgiving. Natalie stood off to the side, pushing the stroller back and forth, keeping one eye on the game, the other on her kids running around. Liv was in the seats in front of where we sat, but with her head lolling to the side, it appeared she was dozing off. I wondered if she’d had a busy shift. She looked exhausted when she’d walked in earlier this evening.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?” I asked Hannah. The way everyone appeared so close at Thanksgiving, I would have thought they’d come to celebrate Jaxon’s big night.

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