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And yet, she persists.
Not being dragged along behind the team either.
Strong, carrying them through games at times, and though she’s not the clear starter any longer—the team allowing her to share the role and give their former backup plenty of game time to gain experience—she’s still that solid presence the Gold needs.
Just like she was my solid presence.
Until she wasn’t.
I sigh, push off the wall, start to turn for the exit.
I’ve gotten the call, know that my parents and Rox are heading to Molly’s.
It’s time for hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and pastries that are flakey and yummy and delicious, and?—
“What are you doing to our girl?”
I stop in the face of two women with stern expressions and crossed arms. Though it was the little one who had spoken, I know they are both dangerous and deadly, especially in protection of one they love.
I raise my hands, palms out. “I don’t interfere in your guys’ relationships?—”
This sends Mandy—the taller of the duo and head trainer for the Gold—snorting, her brows lifting. “You mean you didn’t interfere when Blane tried to tell me that insider VIP passes to a certain boy wizard’s theme park experience were too expensive?”
I shake my head. “That’s different. You love the little scarred bastard and it was only available for a limited time.”
Her brows flick higher. “And it wasn’t interference when I was ready to take up arms when he wanted to take my little Maddy in the ocean”—a beat—“with sharks and you talked me down from the edge?”
I shrug. “The chances of a shark attack are?—”
She shudders and waves a hand. “Don’t.” A breath, expression clearing, hardening. “My point is that we are who we are, and that means we interfere in each other’s lives because we love each other, and it means”—she juts out her chin in irritation—“that when someone is being dumb, we call them on their bullshit.”
I clench my back teeth together, exhale, then turn toward Sara. “You going to let her do the talking?”
One slender shoulder lifts and falls. “Mandy’s doing great all on her own.”
Great at making that guilt—ever-present inside me—grow and swell until it feels like I can barely draw in air.
“It’s all over the news,” Mandy says and I return my focus to her, heart sinking.
“What’s all over the news?” I ask, even though my heart is sinking.
“That you’ve officially filed for divorce.”
My eyes slide closed.
Fuck.
Silence for a beat before Sara takes over. “Now that the season’s underway, the story’s been picked up nationally.” She shakes her head. “The headline in the Times this morning is: Hockey’s Power Couple is Splitsville. Female Goalie Can’t Stop This. Plantain is Barie No More.”
I shudder.
God, the media are just a bunch of assholes.
And not even fucking creative.
Dumbasses.
I sigh, shove down the surge of protectiveness that wants to send me back toward Brit, that wants to shelter her from this shit. I want to track down every newspaper and throw them into a bonfire. I want to crash every website carrying the story, torpedo their apps.
