The rest of the Company was shooting me looks, talking about me loudly as we waited for the players to come back out and the game to start. I couldn’t even replace it in myself to care—I was too shocked by what had happened.
Watching Camden James dance…
My panties were soaked.
And I didn’t have a lot of extra.
The trip to the laundromat would be well worth it, though.
But the end…that was what had me tripping all over myself, practically falling out of my seat in a puddle of confusion and lust.
That had been my name on his chest, right? I hadn’t hallucinated that?
I wanted to ask someone—check whether my eyes actually worked—but I was afraid they would think I was crazy.
It was just that the reality of what had happened seemed impossible. Because why would an NHL superstar ever put my name anywhere…let alone on a body part?
I’d Googled him on a library computer today. He really was a superstar. Either he or Ari Lancaster had gotten the James Norris Memorial Trophy every year for the last six years—evidently, that was the trophy for the best Defender in the League.
I’d read all about all the charities he’d supported. He’d won the NHL’s trophy for humanitarian work three times as well.
That was easy to believe. He’d been at a community kitchen the first time I’d met him after all, and judging by how easily everyone interacted with him—it hadn’t been the first time.
I’d also come across some of the…campaigns he’d been a part of.
One had been a men’s briefs line, and Camden James had a lot to be cocky about.
The size of his cock made sure of that.
I honestly didn’t know how he fit it in his pants.
“So, how do you know Camden James?” Alena asked, sliding into the empty seat next to me. “Why didn’t you mention it during class?”
“Well, I—I don’t really know him.”
She snorted. “Come on, Ana. He had your freaking name on his chest. Those abs,” she said dreamily. “I’ll never forget them.”
I had the insane urge to claw her eyes out. That had been my name on his abs…that meant they were mine, right?
Ana, you’re being crazy.
“I guess I kind of know him,” I finally said.
She stared at me confused, a glint of jealousy in her gaze.
That was new. People weren’t really jealous of me…ever.
Maybe before my injury, when my instructors had praised me over and over again and hailed me as the next big thing…but not anymore.
I was saved from her interrogating me any further when the lights suddenly dimmed casting a shadow over the sea of spectators. An excited murmur rippled through the stands, quickly followed by an exhilarating cheer. I leaned forward in my seat, my eyes fixed on the ice.
A spotlight pierced the darkness, sweeping across the rink as the music crescendoed. The heavy, bass-laden beats vibrated through my chest, each thud syncing with my racing pulse. The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, deep and resonant, filling every corner of the arena.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer began, drawing out the words for maximum effect, “Welcome to tonight’s game! Please put your hands together for your very own DALLAS KNIGHTS…”
The roar of the fans was overwhelming, the noise almost deafening. The spotlight intensified, focusing on the entrance tunnel where the players would emerge. A thrill ran down my spine as the music shifted to a high-energy rock anthem, and the tunnel lit up with flashing lights. One by one, the players skated out, their names echoing through the arena.
“Number 13, Lincoln Daniels!” The crowd cheered as he glided onto the ice, raising his stick in acknowledgment. He made a heart sign at a woman sitting on the other side of the home bench, and their cheers grew even louder.
“Number 24, Ari Lancaster!” Another wave of applause followed Ari’s entrance. He was the other defenseman I’d read about. There’d been tons of articles about having Ari and Camden together when Camden was signed by the Knights last summer.
And yes, I’d done a lot of research today.
I kind of felt like a stalker.
Ari blew a kiss at a blonde woman sitting next to Lincoln’s girl.
My eyes never left the tunnel, anticipation growing with each name called. Finally, the moment I had been waiting for arrived.
“Number 63, Camden James!”
I found myself screaming along with the crowd as Camden skated out onto the ice, his powerful strides confident and commanding. The spotlight followed him, casting a dramatic glow on his figure. He raised his stick high, acknowledging the fans’ adoration, before he turned toward our section and pointed his stick at…me.
I was going to faint.
“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit!” Alena screamed, her dark-black hair whipping me in the face as she jumped up and down, grabbing onto my arm and almost pushing me into the next row.
I straightened up, blinking when I saw Camden was at the glass in front of us, staring up at me, his gaze concerned and frustrated.
“Are you alright, baby girl?” he mouthed, and I nodded in shock, feeling like everyone in the arena was now staring at me.
What was this life?
Alena’s hand was on my arm again, shaking me. She didn’t seem to have realized that she’d almost toppled me down the rows of seats—or she might have just not cared.
The players skated back toward their bench, Camden trailing behind them, still shooting me glances as he moved. I watched as he said something to a man wearing a Dallas Knights polo, seeming to gesture over to my section as he spoke to the guy.
I bit down on my lip nervously, wondering what was going on.
Camden finished talking to the guy and joined the rest of the team before skating out with Ari Lancaster to the ice with three other players. The Dallas goalie was already in the net.
And the game began.
A few minutes in, and I was already a fan.
The game was fast and fun, and Camden had already slammed several players into the boards.
Another player had already tried to punch someone.
Absolutely epic.
“Ma’am,” a voice said from next to me. I jumped in surprise, looking over to see the same employee Camden had been speaking to standing in the aisle next to me. “I’m going to need you to come with me,” he told Alena.
“What do you mean?” Alena asked, staring at him confused.
“Just follow me, please. We need you in a different seat, or we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” the man said sternly.
“Who do you think you—”
“Next step is security, ma’am,” he said fiercely.
Alena opened and closed her mouth, kind of like a guppy fish, glancing at me for help.
I shrugged my shoulders, giving her a sheepish look. I was honestly a little relieved she would be leaving. I’d learned Alena was dangerous when she got excited. I wasn’t sure my leg could survive her reaction if the Knights actually scored a goal.
She huffed as she slid past me, muttering something about talking to a manager. The employee seemed nonplussed about her reaction, his face remaining blank as she started bitching at him.
Maybe he was used to delivering bad news to guests.
As he led her away, my gaze bounced back and forth to where Camden was playing on the ice and Alena was walking away. Did Camden have something to do with this?
I mean of course, he did.
He’d seemed like he was ready to march into the stands when he saw me almost fall after Alena had grabbed me.
A flood of warmth spread through my insides. Even out on the ice in front of thousands of people…he’d looked out for me.
I had the insane urge to cry.
I couldn’t get used to this—having someone care about me.
It wouldn’t last.
But maybe I could just savor it while it was happening. It could become a sweet memory I held onto for the rest of my life.
Biting down on my lip, I stared down at the game where a Knights player and a Chicago player were battling against the boards for the puck. Camden zoomed by my section, stealing a glance at me as he passed.
I swear he winked.
By the time we got to the third period, I’d become a big fan of hockey.
This sport was wild. Not that I had a lot of experience with other sports, but I couldn’t imagine they were more fun to watch.
The Knights were up three to zero, and the other team was in desperation mode. Or at least it seemed like that. Fights were breaking out every couple of minutes, and the boards were rattling and shaking as the players slammed into them.
I watched as an opposing player tried to take the puck from Camden. He did some fancy footwork that would put any dancer’s movements to shame and somehow escaped with it. Everyone around me was suddenly on their feet, screaming as Camden raced down the ice. I pushed up from my seat, ignoring the twinge in my leg as I held my breath and watched him approach the net.
Camden
With a burst of speed, I joined the rush of players skating hard toward the goal. The puck flew back and forth between my teammates, getting knocked loose by one of Chicago’s defenders. The puck bounced back to where I was like a dream, a perfect setup for a shot. Without hesitation, I wound up and let loose, the puck rocketing off my stick.
It sailed through the air, the crowd holding its breath as it hurtled toward the net. Slamming into the back of the goal, the sound seemed to echo through my ears like a thunderclap.
I held up my arms, doing a little shimmy for good measure. Twelfth goal of the season, tied for most among the league’s defensemen…with Ari.
A rush of pleasure spat through my veins—the feeling I’d spent my whole life chasing every game.
Ari and Lincoln swarmed me, cheering and high-fiving.
“You coming for me, James?” Ari yelled, the big smile on his face saying he wasn’t mad about that at all.
I gave him a little salute as they skated off toward the bench.
I didn’t follow them. Instead, I skated over to Anastasia’s section where she was standing up, jumping up and down. Shit. Was her leg alright? Should she be moving like that? Studying her beautiful face, the big smile spread across her lips didn’t seem to suggest any pain. I decided to go ahead with my next move, and I lifted my jersey, showcasing her name painted across my abs once more.
Anastasia blushed, her hands going to her cheeks adorably as she stared at me.
I could have stared at her all night. The crowd’s roar grew even louder, and I knew this would be all over the Dallas news tonight and tomorrow. Maybe it would even get on SportsCenter.
Just for good measure, I pointed to the letters on my chest and then her…a huge smirk on my lips.
If we were going to be on the news, might as well make it crystal clear who she belonged to.
“James, get over here,” Coach Porter screamed, and I cast her one more longing glance before skating back to the bench. At least Ezra had gotten rid of the girl who’d almost pushed Anastasia down the fucking seats. Having to wade into the crowd and forcibly remove her myself might have been difficult to explain to the Knights’ management.
I’d spent my entire career carefully cultivating the good guy image. The All-American superstar that a team could count on.
It was crazy thinking I’d been ready to throw that all away for her by leaping up the stands and ripping that girl away.
“Is there a way to keep the four of you from making a scene?” Coach Porter hissed, smacking the helmet of Alex Turner as he climbed over the boards to finish the last minute of the game.
“Probably not, Coach,” commented Ari, bouncing his head as a rock song blared over the speakers. “It’s a definite addiction at this point.”
Coach Porter snorted and shook his head as he turned back to the game—like he didn’t believe him.
I was a hundred percent positive that Ari Lancaster was not kidding. I’d watched him, Walker, and Lincoln with their wives…and I’d never seen anything like it. I’d never understood it. How their world began and ended with those women.
I think I was starting to get it now.
I snuck a glance over to Anastasia as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game.
What?
She was headed up the stairs…quickly, weaving in and out of people as she made her way to the exit. I shot up from the bench, trying to figure out how I could get up to her in time to stop her. I’d totally screwed up by not making sure someone was near her to make sure she stayed.
Fuck. I looked over at the large clock above the suites and saw that it was almost ten o’clock.
Her curfew.
She only had thirty minutes to make it back to the shelter before they wouldn’t let her in. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about the car I’d arranged to get her back.
And I was fucking stuck here for at least another hour with post-game shit.
“Why the long face, Hero?” Walker said, clapping me on the shoulder as he made it back to the bench from the net.
“I need a favor,” I told him tensely.
“Oooh, asking for favors already. You’re not even in the circle yet,” Ari commented, popping up like a gopher next to me. I resisted the urge to growl.
“I need you to cover with the coaches, make up some kind of excuse…and I need one of you to take my place in the post-game press conference.”
Ari groaned like I’d told him his favorite hair gel was sold out.
“Why do you need this favor?” asked Lincoln, lifting an eyebrow and staring at me in his usual intense way.
“Can we talk about that later?” I asked desperately, watching as Anastasia finally made it to the exit and disappeared from sight.
“You take two press spots next month,” Ari offered.
“Done,” I snapped, already making my way down the tunnel.
I stepped into the shadows of my usual hiding place outside the shelter with just a few minutes to spare before her curfew, and now I was pacing back and forth, waiting for her to appear. My breath was coming out in icy clouds, and I was fucking freezing. I’d taken one second to take off my jersey and my pads in the locker room before running out. The Under Armor shirt I wore beneath my pads was still soaked with sweat and I could smell myself, even out here in the alley where I was surrounded by trash and possibly human feces.
My wet shirt wasn’t helping with the cold situation.
Okay, there was now one fucking minute to go before those doors locked. The security guard that I’d seen every night was standing at them right now, staring out toward the street like she was waiting for Anastasia too.
Where was she? I’d driven thirty over the speed limit to make it here before her, so I could ensure she got inside safely. But she should have been here by now.
I hadn’t seen any sign of a coat at the game. She was probably freezing to death, and once again, I hadn’t thought ahead to make sure she was warm.
In the midst of my mental collapse, the clattering of footsteps finally spilled through the air. Anastasia appeared from around the corner, doing a full out sprint as she raced toward the shelter doors, still clad in the jersey she’d been wearing at the game. There was a slight limp to her gait, and I knew that she would pay for the run tomorrow. From what I’d seen, she never took a day off from dancing.
The security guard opened the door, saying something to her that I couldn’t hear, and a second later she disappeared from sight.
Self-disgust hit me hard.
I was a failure. Completely unworthy of my baby girl.
Fuck.
I’d messed up this whole night.
I needed to do better than this. I wouldn’t fail her like this again.
Hovering in my hiding spot, I stared at the doors, like she was going to appear again and I’d have the chance to make up for the clusterfuck of a night I’d just let happen.
Ten minutes passed, then twenty.
A nearby neon sign flickered weakly, casting erratic shadows on the brick wall beside me.
Creeaaaak…
An older woman suddenly appeared on the sidewalk, wheeling herself toward the shelter, a creak filling the air with every turn of the wheel. She approached the ramp and slowly made her way up to the shelter’s front door. I watched as she paused for a moment, leaning forward and staring inside. Finally, she banged on the door with her fist, over and over again until I’m sure her knuckles were aching.
No one answered.
Something in my heart tightened, the sight of the closed doors and her bowed, defeated shoulders hitting all of my triggers. I emerged from where I’d been hiding, my footsteps echoing in the quiet night.
“I don’t have any money, and my vagina has dust in it and will eat your dick if you come anywhere near it,” the woman croaked, turning to glare at me as I approached. One of her eyes was clouded and most likely useless to her, and her white hair was snarled and stringy.
“I’m not going to hurt you, ma’am,” I said softly, holding up my hands in front of me as I cautiously approached. “But they’re not going to open the doors for you. Haven has a strict curfew. No matter what.”
Her shoulders slumped, and any hope leaked out of her. I reached into my pocket, glad I’d at least had the foresight to grab my wallet before I left the locker room. The arena wouldn’t have been open by the time I’d returned. My fingers were trembling slightly from my emotions running ragged through me. I counted out two hundred dollars.
“Here,” I said, pressing the bills into her hand. “Find a hotel room for the night. There should be a Motel 6 around the corner that will let that money stretch.”
The woman stared at the money for a long moment, so long I thought she was going to refuse it, and then she looked up. Her eyes were shiny, tears welling up and dripping down her wrinkled cheeks. “Thank you, young man. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I replied, forcing a small smile even though it felt like I was being haunted by ghosts. “Just take care of yourself.”
She blinked and squeezed the money in her fist, suddenly wheeling her chair away as fast as she could. She was probably scared I’d been joking, or that I’d turn out to be some monster that would hurt her.
Watching her go, the weight in my chest grew heavier. There was a chance she’d use the money for drugs or alcohol, but I didn’t care.
I couldn’t not help.
I’d spent all those years watching helpless as my stepdad beat my mom, stripping her of any dignity. I hadn’t been able to do anything then. Even after I’d gotten older, I hadn’t been able to save her.
So now I tried to do everything I could to help anyone, especially women, who needed it.
All these years later, I still felt like I had failed my mom. I refused to fail Anastasia too.
As I walked down the block to where I’d parked my truck, each step was filled with a lingering sense of helplessness.
And I hated feeling helpless.
I couldn’t take much more of this with Anastasia.
She was going to force my hand.
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