Page 379 of Face Off

Briggs stares at it.

I stare at it.

One of the defensemen whistles from behind us.

Marisol’s smile widens. “Well?”

“It looks like the Inferno lost a fight with a princess,” I say.

“It’s perfect,” Briggs breathes.

I point at him. “Your opinion has disqualified you from this conversation.”

He takes the hanger before I can stop him and holds the jersey against his chest. The cropped hem ends halfway down his stomach.

“Do you think she could make one in my size?”

“I will pay her not to.”

Marisol rescues the jersey before he can stretch it. “Your girlfriend will love it.”

“She isn’t my girlfriend.”

The answer comes automatically.

It doesn’t feel automatic afterward.

Marisol’s expression softens, but she doesn’t apologize. “Then the woman you had me commit a crime against hockey for will love it.”

I touch one of the satin bows.

Charm will laugh before she puts it on. She will turn in front of a mirror, adjust the cropped hem, and take enough photographs to ensure I understand exactly how much of her stomach remains visible beneath my name.

The image enters too easily.

“When can you make another?” Briggs asks.

Marisol looks at him. “Who is yours for?”

“Nobody.”

“He smiles at his phone,” I tell her.

Briggs’s head snaps toward me. “You’re dead.”

Marisol’s eyes brighten. “Tell me everything.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“He has a woman.”

“I have several women.”

“You have one woman and several increasingly pathetic lies.”

Briggs shoves his hand against my shoulder. I catch his wrist before he can reach me again, and Marisol carries the jersey away from the fight while laughing.

Practice begins ten minutes later.