Vincent Girard liked the look of the numbers on the scoreboard as he skated off the ice the next afternoon following a narrow win in overtime. The team’s playmaker, Kyle Murphy, had made the game-winning goal with eighteen seconds to spare, the shot fed to him on a sweet pass by his foster brother, Axel. The two of them were something to see in a game situation—their passes to each other did not miss. The arena was quiet after the hometown team’s loss. Most fans shuffled toward the exits, but a few Philly fans stuck around to cheer for the Phantoms as they filed off the ice toward the tunnel that would take them into the visitors’ locker room. Vinny’s eyes went to the stands in search of Chelsea, the way they did after every game. What kind of guy waited nine months to make a move? He kept thinking she’d come around—open her eyes to his obvious attraction—sooner or later. But the waiting was killing him and it was becoming clear that she’d never see he wanted more unless he pushed.
