Madison Square Gardenis packed for a Friday night matchup against the Boston Commanders. The family section is buzzing. Harper, Avery, Natalie, Olivia and I are in our usual seats near the tunnel.
George and Cat Shaw are several rows behind us. I don't turn around, but I know they're there.
The puck drops, and the energy is immediate. The Commanders are physical from the first shift, finishing every check, getting under the Renegades' skin. Boston's top line is relentless, and their forecheck keeps the puck pinned in the Renegades' zone for long stretches of the first period.
Logan is matched up against their best forward, a big winger who outweighs him by twenty pounds. They battle along the boards all period, pushing, shoving, talking in each other's ears. Logan doesn't back down. He never backs down.
Cole opens the scoring midway through the second with a power play goal. The crowd roars.
Boston ties it up three minutes later on a breakaway that the Renegades goalie has no chance on. The building goes quiet. Then Boston takes a run at Liam behind the play, a late hit that sends him into the boards. Avery is on her feet before the whistle even blows.
Ethan drops his gloves.
He's across the ice in three strides, grabbing the Boston player by the jersey and throwing a right hand that connects with his helmet. The crowd erupts. Both players are swinging, helmets flying, jerseys pulled over heads.
The linesmen let it go for a few seconds before jumping in and pulling them apart. Ethan skates to the penalty box with blood on his knuckles and a split lip, and the MSG crowd is on its feet, giving him a standing ovation.
“How do you watch that?” I ask Natalie.
“I close my eyes,” she says.
We all laugh.
The fight sparks something in the Renegades. Liam scores on the power play that follows — a wrister from the top of the circle that beats the Boston goalie clean. The building shakes. Avery is screaming beside me.
Third period, the Renegades lock it down. Blake and Logan kill off a late penalty together, blocking shots and clearing the puck with the kind of chemistry that only comes from years of playing together. Jake adds an empty-net goal with thirty seconds left. Final score 4-2 Renegades.
Four wins in a row.
After the game, the families spill into the concourse area near the locker room. It's a wide, carpeted hallway with framed Renegades photos on the walls and a refreshment table set up for families and VIPs. Players trickle out as they finish their postgame routines, hair wet, suits on, bags over their shoulders.
I'm standing with Harper and Avery near the refreshment table, talking about dinner plans, when I hear her voice.
“Jasmine Bennett.”
I turn. Cat Shaw is walking toward me with her coat over her arm and her handbag in the crook of her elbow. Her hair is blown out, and her makeup is flawless. She's smiling, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
“Cat. How are you?”
“Wonderful. What a game.” She looks me over, head to toe, a quick scan that she disguises as warmth. “You look lovely. That blazer is gorgeous. Very professional.”
“Thank you.”
“I keep seeing you at the games. George and I were just saying how nice it is that you're at so many of them now. Working for the team must keep you busy.”
“I work for the firm that handles the Renegades' sponsorship contracts. So yes, I attend when the account requires it.”
She adjusts her handbag on her arm. “It must be so interesting for you, being around professional sports. Such a different world from law, isn't it? All that testosterone and competition.”
The words are sweet, and so is the tone. The knife underneath them is sharp and precise, and aimed at the same spot it hit ten years ago.
I hold my smile. “I'm enjoying it. The Renegades are a great organization.”
“They are. George and I are so proud of Logan and Nolan. The boys have worked so hard. George has been guiding them since they were little. It really is a family commitment, you know. The whole family has to be all in.”
She tilts her head. “But I'm sure you have your own commitments. Your career must be very demanding. Partners at law firms work such terrible hours, don't they? I don't know how you young women manage it all.”
“We manage just fine, Cat.”
