I’m thinking that we’re in a private box with a dozen famous, connected people we don’t know, and she leaned her head on me.
I’m thinking that there are cameras that could be broadcasting us right now, and she leaned her head on me.
And when she threads her fingers through mine, I’m thinking—no, Iknow—I’m falling in love. And I don’t care who sees.
A couple of the kids run over to Lou, grabbing her away from me, and for a second, I think she might stay.
But then, with a soft, regretful smile, she lets a kid take her. Soon, she’s line dancing alongside a half dozen VIPs, including one of the Chiefs’ players and his whole family. Lou dances with a grin on her face, and a few of the kids—tweens, mostly—run over and join her. They’re all laughing as they slap their heels, spin, and throw a hand in the air. And then one of the kids yells that their dance is on the Jumbotron.
And the crowd outside of the box goescrazy.
The fervor in the stands is so intense, it shakes our box. Fans around us start slamming on the plexiglass, and I hop up and stand next to Lou. A security guard is already posted inside the box with us. I give him a questioning look.
“It’s fine. Unless someone brought a tank, they ain’t getting through,” the guard says.
I nod, but I keep standing with Lou as she talks to a few of the other people in the box. But by the way she’s standing, stick straight, I think the fan frenzy shook her.
When the fans start screaming again, I step toward Lou instinctively, but then I hear someone in the box yell about the game.
I whip around and see that one of our defensemen is in the penalty box, giving the Yetis a power play. They’re cycling the puck quickly, and our team is scrambling. Sean is locked in, tracking the play as the Yetis’ forward winds up for a hard slap shot from the top of the face-off circle.
The puck rockets toward the net, but before it can get to Sean, one of the Yetis players parked in the crease gets a piece of the puck with his stick, changing the trajectory at the last second. Instead of coming straight at Sean, now it’s veering toward the bottom corner, inches from the post.
Sean has no time to adjust. He drops into a butterfly, but his pad isn’t covering enough of the net, and at the last possible second, he kicks his left leg out, forcing himself into a deep split to get his skate to the post.
And he makes the save!
The puck ricochets off his pad, and Lou and I whoop while the crowd groans. Lou throws herself into my arms, unfazed by the box full of people or the stadium full of fans who could see us.
Relief and excitement rise in me. Dad said Sean is on NHL scouts’ watchlist, and if anyone is watching this game, that save has to have moved Sean to the top of the list.
I spin Lou around, keeping my hand on her lower back as we both cheer and look at the ice.
Where Sean has shifted … but isn’t up yet.
Lou’s head turns to mine. “That doesn’t look good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I say.
But the play moves up the ice, and the trainers aren’t coming out, and after another few seconds, Sean pushes himself up. But it’s slow. Slower than I’d like. He taps the post once—his old sign that he’s okay—but I know my brother. He’d say he’s okay, even if he weren’t.
I exhale, but not all the nerves go with it. “He says he’s all right.”
“Is he?” she mutters.
I swallow hard. “I don’t know.”
We return to our seats through the rest of the first period. One of the young girls Lou was dancing with sits next to her and shares her popcorn, and Lou and she become fast friends. Her dad is a Royals pitcher, so it’s clear she’s used to famous people. But she keeps giving me the stink eye.
When the second period starts, Lou can’t help laughing at the girl’s looks. “You don’t seem happy with my friend,” she says.
“He’s a homewrecker,” the young girl says.
Lou chokes on a laugh, turning her wide eyes to me. Mine are wider than normal, too. I lean past Lou to talk to the girl. “How do you figure?”
“Lucy Jane and Connor Nash are dating!”
Lou whips back around to the girl. “No! We’re just friends, sweetie.”
