Page 102 of Switching Skates
My heart drops as I follow her finger and spot it, burning brightly and falling across the sky.
It’s beautiful but a little nerve-racking, given what happened last time.
“Are you going to make a wish?” she asks eagerly.
“No, I don’t need to.” I shake my head.
Reaching over, I cup her cheek and seal my lips with hers, knowing that there’s nothing else in the world for me to wish for.
I have everything I could ever wantright here.
“Maeve, hurry up, or we’re going to be late!” I shout up the stairs to her as I slip on my tennis shoes and throw my purse over my body.
Tonight’s the big game, the highest point of every college hockey player’s career. And for Mason, it’s his last time in the Frozen Four Championship.
“I’m coming!” she shouts down at me and rushes down the stairs, putting her earrings in at the same time. “Your car or mine?”
“Mine.” I flash my keys in my hand.
She grabs her purse, and we’re out the door, locking the house up behind us.
I still cannot believe we only have a couple of months left here before my mom is selling it. But I don’t have time to dwell on that fact right now. Tonight is all about Mason.
We jump into my Jeep and take off for the arena, a fire under my ass to get there as fast as possible.
“You do know the game doesn’t start for another hour and a half, right?” Maeve asks, and I nervously chuckle.
My fingers wring the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. “I knoooow. But this is such a big game for him, and I want to be in my seat before they take the ice for warm-ups.”
She rolls her eyes playfully, and I take the opportunity to brake-check her, simply for my own entertainment.
She catches herself on the dash. “You bitch.”
Laughter bubbles out of us as we speed toward the North Stars’ arena, heading into the city.
I don’t know how we managed to luck out, having the game on our home turf, but I know none of the Mammoths are complaining about it. Our team is going to fill every seat in that arena.
When we finally arrive, we grab the slip for the parking garage before quickly parking and heading toward the arena. Myanxiety is eating me alive. I swear I get more nervous for his games than he does.
I answer my mom’s call as we step inside, and Maeve scans our tickets for us before we go through security.
“Hey, we’re walking in right now. Are you guys here?” I hurriedly ask.
“Yeah. Cheryl and I already have your drinks, and I got you popcorn from the gluten-free stand. See you in a second.” She ends the call right in time for me to drop my phone into the security tray.
We pass through with ease and race to our seats, which seem forever away as we circle the hallway toward section one hundred and one.
Mason’s mom, Cheryl, and mine wave to us the second we reach the top of the stairs. Descending to our row, we scoot past them and take our seats, and right as I look up through the glass, I lock eyes with Mason, who’s standing in the tunnel.
Nodding sharply, I hold his stare, and without a word, we seem to have an entire conversation.
I mutter under my breath, “You got this, baby.”
Mason nods his head—that cute little thing he does to mentally lock in.
Someone pops out of line and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Chet. He waves vigorously.
I laugh, waving back.
