Page 61 of My Lucky Charm

“You are talking about his personal life,” Raya interjects.

I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, whoever it was, I don’t think it was a girlfriend,” Poppy says, disbelieving. Then, to Raya, she says, “Ray, come to the game with us! You can wear those sexy leather pants you bought on a dare and that off the shoulder red top. You look so good in red.”

“Why would I wear something sexy to go to a hockey game?” Raya deadpans.

Stop using the word ‘sexy’, Dad signs.

Poppy ignores him. “You are sexy, and you should wear it, because maybe you’ll finally go out with one of the players.” Then to me, she asks, “Have you met Finn Holbrook yet?”

I shake my head.

“Huge crush on Raya,” Poppy says. “He flirts with her shamelessly, but she will not give him the time of day.”

“He’s a child,” Raya says, above it all. “And I’m not dating a hockey player.” Then, to me, she adds, without signing, “And neither are you.”

Point taken, but only because the point was shoved in my face.

After dinner, Poppy spends a good half hour pleading and cajoling and debating, and finally convinces Raya to join us at the game. Even before she started in on her, Poppy had texted Dallas to make sure our seats were with her.

I guess when you’re connected you can make things happen.

We ride to the arena, courtesy of a car Dallas sent for us, and even I can admit that when we arrive, and I walk inside, a burst of excitement shoots through me. Excitement and . . . nervousness.

I’m nervous for Gray.

These games are a huge deal, and while it’s all fun for the fans, it’s pressure for the players. And he carries that pressure like Atlas holding up the world.

I just want him to feel like he fits here. I know that playing well will help.

I spent a little too long looking up videos of him yesterday while I waited for him to finish practicing. I don’t even think he knew I was still there, but I didn’t want to leave until he left. So I Googled. And YouTubed . . . if that’s even a verb. Seeing him play in his rookie season was like watching a magician. There were plays where I didn’t even know where the puck was.

The other team didn’t know where it was either—until it was in the back of the net.

He played with passion, with fire, like he had something to prove. And you could tell by the way he moved that he loved it.

Twice, he even smiled after his goals.

His more recent games? Those were like watching a different guy. He was sluggish and made a lot of mistakes, but the thing I noticed most was that there was no joy. No life.

It was like he was skating through the motions.

The arena is loud and full of energy, all flashing screens, loud music, a sensory overload. We make our way through the lobby, surrounded by Comets merchandise and concession stands. I glance up at the large banners featuring the faces of Comets’ players and realize this is what the promo shoot this week is really for. Not printed photos to send to fans. I was right to be wowed by this, regardless of how annoying the whole thing seemed to Gray.

He’s a really big deal. How is this just now hitting me?

We find our seats, right next to two rows of empty ones.

“Where is everyone?” I ask.

“In the wives’ room,” Poppy says.

Raya looks at her. “Why aren’t you back there?”

Poppy smiles and takes both our arms. “Because I’m with you guys!”

I only know what Poppy had told me about the “wives’ room.” You have to be invited. As an employee, it’s not a place I’ll ever get to go, but the wives made sure Poppy had a standing invitation.

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