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Half-an-hour before puck drop, the girls and I arrived in the family club box. Sofia rushed up and greeted me with a hug. “Hey, Isabelle! So glad you’re here!”
I introduced my friends to Sofia and the rest of the WAGs. April and Farrah weren’t the only non-WAG girls, either; Sofia’s best friend, McKayla, was there, too. We helped ourselves to the free wine and settled in, watching as fans slowly trickled in and took their seats.
“Nowthisis how sports are meant to be watched,” Farrah said, glass of wine in hand. “I never even knew seats like these existed.”
“Right?” April giggled. “I feel so fancy!”
Not much later, both teams took the ice for one last warm-up, stretching, flying around the ice, and flinging pucks at their goaltenders.
“There’s Rust!” I said, pointing him out.
We were still watching warm-ups when I felt a tap on my shoulder, accompanied by a stranger’s voice. “Excuse me, Isabelle?”
I turned around and saw a fresh-faced man in a suit. A Vegas Sin lanyard hung around his neck, identifying him as a team employee.
“That’s me,” I said.
“Hi! I’m Brandon.” He shook my hand. “I’m here to escort you down to the ice for the ceremonial puck drop. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” I said. I waved at April and Farrah. “See ya. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Brandon offered a polite smile. “Actually, April and Farrah are invited to join us at ice level, as well.”
“Really?”
The girls looked as surprised as I was.
“Hell yeah!” Farrah said, slamming the rest of her wine.
“Always classy, Farrah,” April snickered, and joined us.
Brandon guided the three of us through the concourse and into an elevator which took us down onto a restricted floor. The doors opened, and we were in a whole new world filled with arena workers, hockey executives, and media personnel, all busily buzzing around like worker bees. Brandon kept us waiting in a staging area until he got the word over his walkie-talkie that they were ready for us.
We emerged from a tunnel, standing at ice-level, surrounded in a bowl filled with thousands of people. The rink doors opened for us, revealing a rolled-out red carpet.
The players, now standing by their bench, tapped their sticks on the ice as we walked the red carpet. I spotted Rust, standing with his teammates. He looked so sexy, suited up in his hockey gear. We gave each other a little wave.
The crowd spotted us and politely cheered. There were more than a few whistles.
“I think they like us,” April said.
“Of course they do! Just look at us,” Farrah said, waving to the crowd. “We’re three foxy babes.”
“Just don’t step off the carpet,” I warned, keeping my eyes trained on the carpet as we walked. “Because that’d berealsexy, falling in front of eighteen-thousand people.”
“Yeesh. Good point. I’d go down like a redwood in these heels,” April said.
“You’d go down like Iz on Rust, you mean?” Farrah joked.
We laughed the whole way. Thankfully, no one fell. Once we made it to center ice, I lifted my eyes and realized we weren’t Rust’s only guests.
“Mom?” I gasped, shocked. “Dad?”
They looked great. It’d only been a couple weeks since I last saw Dad, but he looked alotdifferent. For one thing, he’d cleaned up, his hair cut and face freshly shaved, and he looked handsome in a new suit. But more than that, hiseyeslooked different—like they were clearer or sharper, somehow.
But the best thing was, he and Mom were holding hands. And it didn’t look forced. Actually, they lookedhappytogether—they were both beaming. I hadn’t seen them look that happy together in years.
“What are you guys doing here?!” I asked.
