Page 242 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
“Thank you so much. My sister is going to be so stoked. She loves you.”
“She should have come,” I say absently as I sign the fabric.
“She’s outside with a couple of friends,” he admits.
“Why?”
“They wanted to see if any other girls turned up. I’ve tried telling them that this event is for everyone, but they feel a bit awkward.”
“That’s bull—” I just about manage to cut myself off.
“I agree. It is bullshit.” He lowers his voice. “Bailey is a better hockey player than most of the guys here.”
“Is that right?” I muse. “You wanna take me out to meet her?”
“U-uh…” he stutters, looking around at the crowds of boys waiting their turn to speak to their idols. “You’d do that?”
“Yeah, of course. We’re meant to be inspiring hockey players of the future, and your sister is a player, right?”
“Yeah. Her dream is to play in the Olympics,” he explains.
“Okay then, lead the way.”
He spins around and marches across the room like a man on a mission, and I don’t waste a second following him.
We’re almost at the door when someone shouts my name, forcing me to stop.
“Where are you going?” Hailee asks as she storms over, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
I might want to leave so I can go and watch Sutton, but she should know that I’d never walk out of an event like this without at least clearing it with her.
“Going to meet someone outside.”
Her eyes narrow even more, if that’s possible.
“It’s my sister,” the kid explains. “She and her friends didn’t want to come in and?—”
“Come on,” I say, gesturing for Hailee to follow us. It won’t be a bad thing for our PR director to experience firsthand just how little support the girls get compared to the boys.
I squint as we step out into the bright late afternoon sunlight and scan the area.
Over on the left, sitting on a bench, are three girls.
They’re too busy chatting to notice as we move toward them, but it only takes a couple of seconds for the middle one to notice our approach, and her eyes widen and her chin drops.
“Oh my god,” she gasps. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
The other two look at her with wrinkled brows until they follow her line of sight.
“Oh my god,” they both repeat simultaneously.
“Afternoon, ladies. Which one of you is Bailey?” I ask as they continue to freak out.
“Uh…m-me,” the middle one stutters before surging to her feet and sticking her hand out. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re standing right in front of me.”
All the blood has drained from her face as she lifts her hand to cover her mouth. I’m pretty sure she’s seconds away from passing out.
“God, I’m so sorry,” she says in a rush.
