Page 46 of Breakaway Hearts

The rest of the game is exciting. The other team accepts Jason is tougher to get past than the goalie from the exhibition games, so they play their hearts out. Not that it helps, with a final score of five-one for the Wolves. Jason’s smile is everything as he looks up at me and I nod, smiling through tears, genuinely so excited for him. It’s baby steps, but maybe one day I’ll watch a hockey game and only think of my best friend’s smile, or my father’s coaching.

“The players all come out the back, then we’ll probably head to Ivy or something. You’re more than welcome to come, but I can show you the door either way.”

“I’ll come wait for Jason,” I agree. The last place I want to be is the hockey house.

We’re barely there five minutes, during which I probably get a little too enthusiastic in explaining to her which of Jason’s saves was the most impressive, before the first player comes out. At first, he’s just a shadow, and Tabytha assures me there’s usually more lighting out here and she’ll mention it to Owen, but I can’t hear her through the pounding of my heart in my ears.

I remind myself to breathe.

Panic attacks only get worse when you don’t.

This was a terrible idea. Coming here, following a girl I barely know to a dark corner of the parking lot where the only people coming out are fucking hockey players.

Dozens of them.

I would run but my legs don’t work, and I know that realistically, I’m overreacting, but I might not be. Jay’s always one of the last ones out, but I pray it’s him. That the shadow in the darkness is my best friend.

Or Owen.

The thought hits me like a stab in the chest before a guy on the visiting team walks past us to wherever their bus is waiting.

In that moment, I feel fear. I have no clue who this guy is, or what he might want to do to us in this dark parking lot. But more than that, I’m terrified, because I was praying it would be Jason…or Owen. Which I can say is because I’m with his sister, but even if I was alone, I would still feel safer with him than anyone else on the team, except Jason.

Which is fucking dangerous.

“Oh, there’s Mike!” Tab is already waving over to one of the defensemen, completely unfazed by the player who just passed us.

“I forgot I have a deadline for the paper. I’ll text Jason, but you can let him know when he’s out that I’ll see him at home.”

“You sure?” she asks me.

“Positive. It was nice meeting you, Tabytha.”

“Likewise. It’ll be nice to have a friend at games.”

She looks like she’s waiting for me to say she will never see me at the arena again, but instead I nod, trying to look excited instead of nauseous at that prospect.

I linger until her friend is just a few feet away, then power walk back to the apartment, my right hand clutching pepper spray, my left lingering on the alert button.

I don’t breathe easy until I’m inside with the chains and deadbolt in place, and even then, it’s a lot of deep breaths on the floor, with my back against the door, before I get up and work on looking normal for when Jason gets home.

Chapter Eighteen

Owen

He’ll never go pro

We win our next game, so as soon as the bus drops us off, we head to Slapshots to celebrate. If we’re playing, they’re showing it, so everyone in the sports bar cheers the second we walk in.

“Is it always like this?”

I think Jason’s question is rhetorical, but I still lean closer.

“You should see how bad it is right after a home game.”

“Guess we avoid it like the plague when we lose?”

“Nah, Hank’s pretty good at setting us up in the back and stopping people from bothering us. But it’s a lot more fun when we win.”