She hands out the drinks, then settles back into her seat beside me. Her hand finds mine automatically, our fingers intertwining with each other. I squeeze gently, and she returns the pressure, glancing up at me with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I lie, forcing a smile. “Just thinking about Saturday's game.”
“You're going to crush it,” she says with unwavering confidence. “You always do.”
The buzzer sounds again, signaling the start of the third period, and her attention immediately returns to the ice.
I don’t bother to watch the game. I don’t give a shit about it. I watch her instead.
Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright. She’s clapping, bouncing slightly in her seat like she’s part of the game. It’s like she’s been waiting all day for this, and maybe she has.
If Jenni’s telling the truth, and I hate that I believe she is, then Honey’s day was a goddamn disaster. A partner at the firm humiliated her. Called her a consolation prize. Reduced her to her ex’s shadow, and she didn’t tell me.
She told Jenni, though.
She had all day. All afternoon. Every chance to text me, call me, walk into this arena and say, “Hey, I had a rough one.”
But she didn’t.
Instead, she told the girl who’s been flirting with me for two straight hours and pretending it’s nothing. Even now she’s sitting beside me like none of it happened.
The crowd roars and Honey's on her feet again, shouting encouragement. Jenni pushes past me to join her, and they start jumping like this is a fucking National Championship game.
I stay seated, my thoughts louder than the celebrations around me.
Tomorrow, I leave for Michigan. Another long weekend away from Honey while she continues to work at a place that treats her like shit, surrounded by people who whisper behind her back.
Meanwhile, Jenni will be here. Watching and picking up more pieces of my girlfriend’s mind that I get to see lately. Chris will be here too, giving her something I can’t right now—a break from the pressure that comes with being me.
The knot in my stomach twists tighter as St. Michael’s scores again. Honey turns to me, eyes bright, and I force myself to stand and celebrate with her.
I’ll push it all down, just for now. Eventually, it will get better. It has to.
“That was amazing!” she exclaims, moving around Jenni and wrapping her arms around me in a quick hug before turning back to the game. I hold her tighter than usual, not wanting to let go, but the moment passes, and she's focused on the ice again, slipping from my grasp as easily as she came.
After the game—which St. Michael's wins 7-2—we wait outside the locker room for Chris. Honey bounces on her toes, still riding the high of the victory, while Jenni scrolls through her phone, occasionally showing us particularly good action shots from the game.
“There he is!” Honey says as Chris emerges, his hair still damp from the shower, and his gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Great game,” I say, extending my hand to him. I’m not going to let him or any of them think they can get to me. “That steal in the third period was impressive.”
Chris shakes my hand, his grip firm. “Thanks, man. Means a lot coming from you.”
There's a sincerity in his voice that makes it hard to dislike him, no matter how much I want to.
“You were incredible!” Honey gushes, giving him a quick hug that lasts just a beat too long for my liking.
“Just doing my job,” Chris says with a modest shrug, but I catch the way his eyes linger on Honey's face. Yup, that’s exactly the way I look at her.
“We should celebrate,” Jenni suggests. “Hail Mary's is probably packed, but we could grab a late dinner somewhere else?”
I shake my head regretfully. “Ah, I can’t. I've got an early flight tomorrow.”
“Another time then,” Chris says easily. “I should probably head back too. Early class.”
We walk to the parking lot together and when I get to my truck, I hook a finger through the loop in Honey’s jeans, tugging her a few steps away while Chris and Jenni linger nearby.