“Well, I’m an investigative journalist. Exposing scandals is kind of my thing. And when it turned out I was dating a smuggler ofendangered species for rich people, I had to expose him. I stayed with him, gathered everything I had on his side hustle, and we connected him to a large-scale international wildlife trafficking network. The feds eventually took the whole thing down. Victor was sentenced to seven years, and I got an award for my work a few months later.”
My breath comes shallow. I knew the scene I witnessed in front of the hotel felt straight out of a movie, but I wasn’t prepared for this.
“You dated a criminal and put him in prison.”
“Yes. Well, I didn’t know he was a criminal when we started dating, but yes.”
“And now he’s out.”
She sighs. “Apparently, he was granted early release for good behavior. I called my boss this morning, and she confirmed it. They got the notification last week, but she didn’t want to tell me—afraid it would distract me from my work here.”
“But that’s not safe,” I shoot back, unable to hide the panic seeping into my voice. “He can’t just be out. What if he wants revenge? You should be in witness protection or something.”
She chuckles softly, and somehow the sound eases the tightness in my chest, if only just a bit. “Don’t worry. I’m used to this kind of thing. He’s not the first guy I put behind bars, nor will he be the last. And I’m not afraid of him—especially since I’m pretty sure he’s already moved onto another scheme. Animal smuggling wasn’t his only endeavor, but it’s the only one the feds could prove. I know Victor. His taste for money is stronger than anything else.”
I drill her with a hard stare. “Is that supposed to make me feel less worried?”
“He doesn’t care about me,” she says. “He’s not going to risk his freedom by coming after me if he’s running another scheme.”
“Are you going to investigate him?” I ask under my breath. By now, I know her well enough that I’m certain she won’t be able to resist.
“I wish,” she admits. “I can’t right now, or I’ll end my career. But maybe my boss will be interested once I’m back in New York.”
I hope not. I really,reallyhope not.
“Anyway, don’t worry about me,” she says, tapping my arm lightly. “I’ve been doing this for ten years now. I know how to take care of myself.” She claps her hands. “Well, I’m out. I want to hit the buffet before I join the girls at my front-row seat. Break a leg. Or a stick—whatever.”
She flashes me a smile and waves before spinning on her heel.
As her footsteps recede, I swallow to wet my dry throat. Talking to her had the exact opposite effect I was hoping for. If anything, my nerves are even more raw. The idea that something bad could happen to Harper suddenly feels very real, and the worry it triggers only highlights the fact that I’m falling for her. Even if the feelings aren’t mutual.
13
Harper
The atmosphere in the lower bowl of the arena is explosive, a sharp contrast to the composed luxury of the VIP seats up above. Down here, it’s raw, loud, and alive—fans packed shoulder to shoulder, jerseys meshing together in a collage of red and blue, foam fingers slicing the air, the smell of popcorn and beer mixing with cold ice and adrenaline. The noise hits you in the chest, vibrating through the concrete. The music thumping between chants and cheers that rise and crash like waves.
It’s almost the end of the second intermission, and the girls and I are back to our seats after a trip to the restrooms. It’s weird saying that—the girls and I. I’ve had friends before, sure, butI was always more of a one-on-one kind of girl. I never really built a friend group like this. My grandma was always my closest buddy.
A guy passes in front of us, playing with a ring on his finger, and it instantly brings me back to Victor. I meant what I told Baptiste before the game. I don’t think he’ll come after me, even if he did warn me to stay away. Victor’s hungry for money right now. And he won’t do anything to jeopardize whatever scheme he’s cooking up. Not even for revenge.
“So,” Marissa says, bringing me back to reality. She adjusts her Stripes cap. “What do you think this time? Still boring?”
Marissa’s dad is the head coach of the guys’ team in New York, and ever since I mentioned I found the sport boring, she’s made it her personal mission to prove me wrong. During the first two periods, she kept leaning toward me with commentary, saying things like, “See how fast that was? Pretty fun, right?” or “That bodycheck was definitelynotboring. Way to go, Baptiste!”
When Marissa poses the question, Beth, Grace, Aria, and Hayley all turn to me, watching my face as though this is a verdict that could change the course of history.
“Fine,” I say, finally caving. “It’s pretty fun. I like the music, the ambiance, and the game play is actually fairly interesting.”
What I don’t admit is that what I find most interesting is watching Baptiste on the ice. He seemed distracted in the first period, but the second? He’s been incredible. Laser-focused. Moving like the ice belongs to him, gliding and pivoting with an ease that’s almost unreal. Mesmerizing.
“Good.” Marissa nods, satisfied. “Glad we got that settled.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Marissa takes hockey very seriously,” Beth says with a wink. “But we’re glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“And that our boys are winning so far,” Grace adds, settling back into her seat.
We keep chatting for a few more minutes, and then the atmosphere in the arena shifts as the last period begins.
