Page 46 of Power Play

seventeen

. . .

Al

The Boston Grizzlies Foundation’s Fall Gala is held in a swanky hotel ballroom in the historic Back Bay neighborhood. Some of my teammates live on this side of town, but even hockey players with our salaries can barely afford to live here.

The thing about these charity events is they’re all the same. Sure, they all support worthwhile causes, and yes, it’s exciting at the start, but rubbing elbows with the Boston elite is not my idea of a fun time.

These are the same people who look down on me for the part of town I grew up in and the secondhand gear I wore growing up. Between Tony’s gymnastics fees, my hockey equipment, and all the sports Cari played, money was tight. My parents worked tirelessly to make sure we could do the things we loved.

And look how it turned out; all three of us became professional athletes. Tony’s had a successful decade and a half elite gymnastics career, he’s in veterinary school, and he has two Olympic medals to his name. Cari’s nascent career is off to a booming start. She competed at the same Olympics as our brother, and nabbed a team gold medal.

I don’t begrudge my siblings’ medals. I know that in two years, when the Winter Olympics come around, I’ll get my shot. I didn’t make the team’s short list last quad, but I’ve been working my ass off the last few years to get to where I’m at now. My time will come.

“We can do this,” I mutter under my breath, and Riley glances at me with her eyebrows raised.

“What was that?”

“We can do this.” I offer her my hand, and when she takes it, warmth floods through my entire system. “We can escape at any time.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad… Right?” She doesn’t look certain, though.

“Oh, it’ll be hell. But we can do it together.”

“We need a code word,” she says. “If you’re in over your head or need a break, just say… pizza. And I’ll find a way to excuse us.”

“Fuck, that’s brilliant. I could kiss you right now.”

She frowns, a little wrinkle forming between her brows, and I want to kiss it away.

“Better not.”

My stomach sinks. “Right. We have a good thing going.” I already fucked it up by kissing her in the suite yesterday. The last thing we need is to make our working relationship even more awkward.

Riley touches the amethyst around her neck. “Exactly.”

Squeezing her hand, I urge her forward, and together we enter the ballroom. It’s decorated in black and gold everywhere—the team’s colors.

“Do you want a drink?” I ask, as a waiter beelines for us.

“Oh. Yes, please.”

We untangle our hands as I take a champagne flute from his tray, her fingertips brushing mine as I pass it over nearly making me slosh the alcohol all over us. I clear my throat as I take a second flute for myself, then my hand finds the small of her back.

“Thank you,” she says, offering a smile to the waiter, who nods and moves on. She takes a sip and wrinkles her nose. “I always forget how much I hate champagne.”

“There’s a bar. I can get you whatever you want.”

She laughs. “I don’t think a place like this will have jungle juice.”

“Hey, if that’s what my wife wants…”

Her hand lands on my chest. “I’m kidding. But I won’t say no to a vodka Sprite or a rum and Coke. Something sweet so I can’t taste the alcohol, but not so sweet I’ll get wasted.”

“You got it. Let’s do a lap, then we’ll find our way to the bar.”

After we set our still-full champagne flutes down on a nearby table, my hand lands on her back again. The innocent contact grounds me as we join the party.