I had thanked God that Bruce went back to New York the day of the hockey intervention. I broke things off via phone, though I now knew the truth about his sister. She never was sick, I had received a text from her a month ago, and so I called him out on his bullshit. Tonight, I was also glad I went with the Hawks to California to play against the L.A. Kings. I sat with Jonathan’s home jersey and my Kane hat on, in the perfect seat, in the middle of the crowded stands.

“Now presenting you your Chicago Blackhawks.”

The arena booed, besides those selective few who liked the team, and one of them me. I jumped up, cheering my boys on, while singing along to Chelsea Dagger. Smiling at the men around me, I giggled slightly when they glanced at me like I do not belong here.

“Stupid puck bunny slut,” a voice mumbled on the side of me. Turning to my right, I saw a girl wearing jeans and a L.A. Kings’ shirt.

“If you know as much about hockey as I do, you would know I’m not a puck bunny,” I glared at the brunette, who now glared at me. “And that I am part of the hockey world as much as these guys are.”

“Oh yeah, why are you wearing a Toews jersey along with a Kane hat?” She questioned. “Unless you plan to score with one of them.”

“Do you want to know the difference between a puck bunny and a non-puck bunny?” I sighed, rolling my eyes.

“Enlighten me,” she too rolled her eyes.

“You see that girl over there?” I pointed to a blond behind us. She had a low cut Toews shirt that looked like she cut it lower than it was made, and she also wore a skirt. “That right there would be a puck bunny. Too much make up, low shirt hoping the players will see her boobs from the ice, and a short enough skirt that leaves the imagination nothing. And who would even wear that to an ice hockey game, when it’s still chilly with all the people here?”

“Alright, I guess you’re right,” she bit her lip, shaking her head at the girl behind us. “I’m sorry I called you a puck bunny.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been called one,” I giggled, smiling at her. “Being close to my brother, people believe we are dating or something.”

“You’re brother?”

“Adam Burish.”

“You’re Adam Burish’s sister?” She stared at me shocked.

“Why can’t anyone believe I’m his sister?” I threw my arms up, shaking my head. I held out my hand, “I’m Kaitlyn by the way.”

“Julie,” she shook my hand, smiling.

We got to know each other for the whole game. She booed when Sharpy shot the perfect slap shot, getting it past Bernier’s gloved hand. I teased her when Seabrook checked Clifford, her favorite player, hard into the boards. During intermissions, we would talk about our lives, and how we got where we were today. She has been going for school to journalism for the past three years, but has yet to find a job.

I told her Makayla has been trying to find more journalists, and that maybe I could get her one. We both shut up once the third period begun. So far the Hawks were winning, four to two. Anything could happen this period and would send us into overtime. I started to nibble on my lower lip, watching the game intently. When I saw the puck went flying towards our net, I gasped as it hit Jonathan in the mouth.

“That didn’t look good,” Julie’s eyes widen, just as mine did.

“No, I hope he doesn’t have to get stitches again,” I sighed, watching Jon skate off the ice.

“Or any teeth were knocked out,” she giggled softly, making me lightly laugh.

My eyes never left Jonathan as he talked to the trainers, but my attention went back to the game once they took him back to the team doctor. The rest of the game went smoothly, with the Hawks winning with five to four. After I gathered my bag and drink, I turned towards Julie.

“Would you like to go meet your lover boy?” I smirked, making her eyes widen.

“W-w-what?” She stammered.

“Come on,” I laughed, taking her arm.

Making our way from the crowds that stopped to buy jerseys and other memorabilia of the game, I stopped in line for the L.A. Kings jerseys. Julie looked at me confused, but my smirk just increased. After waiting for about fifteen minutes, we finally made it to the front of the line. I asked for a Dustin Brown and a Kyle Clifford jersey.

“Why are you buying jerseys?” Julie asked.

“Because, I can’t go in there without something of the L.A. Kings, I’ll get eaten alive!” I shook my head, smirking, “And I thought I’d buy you a gift.”

“What!” She gasped, shaking her head, “No, I can’t take that! I appreciate it, but you just spent well over three hundred, I’m sure!”

I just rolled my eyes, throwing the jersey at her. Once dragging her again, I headed towards the locker rooms. We were stopped at the entrance of the hallway, however. A tall, built man stood before us, giving us a hard look, before smiling.

“Well if it isn’t little Katie Burish,” the guard ruffled my hair.

“I hate you, Craig,” I giggled, swatting at his hand.

“Awe, I’m hurt,” he pouted, placing a hand over his heart.

I rolled my eyes once again, “Just let us through, Craig.”

“Alright, alright, but who’s your friend?” He glanced at Julie.

“She’s my new assistant, Julie meet Craig, Craig meet Julie,” I introduced them, while Julie waved at him.

I did not give him time to respond because I just pushes right passed him, making him laugh.

“Next time, when you bring a fan back, don’t make it so obvious!” He hollered after us, laughing, “And go see if your man is alright!”

“Your man?” Julie cocked an eyebrow, half way to the locker rooms.

“Apparently if you flirt with Jonathan Toews, it travels fast,” I shrugged my shoulders, stopping at the Kings' locker room.

Knocking on the door, we waited outside, while I made Julie put on her jersey, as I put mine on as well. A couple minutes later, the man I knew as Jack Johnson opened the door. I waved, smiling, but he groaned.

“What do you want, Burish?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on the open door.

“A couple interviews,” I grinned, “Since I know the other news crews are over at the Hawks locker room now, since I hate being with all of them. You should know this, Johnson.”

“Why are you wearing a Brown’s jersey? I thought I saw you wearing a Toews jersey out in the stands.”

“I still am, but I knew if I walked in here with it on, I won’t hear the end of it.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Now will you let us in, please.”

“Fine,” he sighed, stepping out of the way.

Smirking, I left Julie with Clifford after I got an interview from him. After I went around getting interviews of most of the men still remaining, I glanced over to find Julie discussing a play, while doing the moves, with Kyle. I smiled, shaking my head. Passing by, I handed her my number on a piece of paper, telling her to call me next time she would be in Chicago.

Before she could want to go meet the Hawks, I left, heading down the hallway a little to the Hawks’ locker room. I did not even think to knock on the door; I just walked right in like I owned the place. I saw some of the boys with towels around their waist, but a majority of them had gotten dressed already. Sighing, I began to look for the one guy I had wanted to see since the beginning of the third period.

“He’s still with the doctor,” a husky voice sounded from behind me.

I gasped, remembering that same voice of the guy who kidnapped me a week and half ago. Quickly turning around, I saw the one and only Brent Seabrook. I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You kidnapped me!” I accused, not letting up my glare.

“They told me to,” he smirked, chuckling. “But why are you wearing a Brown jersey?”

My eyes widen, remembering I had on my now L.A. Kings jersey. I blushed, taking it off before anyone else noticed, but my luck ran out. Because now standing next to Seabrook, the one and only Patrick Kane. And to say he looked happy to see me would be a complete lie.

“I was wondering the same thing,” he tucked his arms across his chest, making me bit my lip.

“I had to interview them, but I had to wear something of theirs to enter,” I raked my hand through my hair, nervously. He glared at me for quite some time.

“Can we burn it now?” He smirked, as I sighed with relief.

“Go for it,” I threw it to him, “If you plan to give me the hundred I spent on it back.”

“You wasted your money, I don’t owe you anything,” he shrugged his shoulders, walking away.

Shaking my head, I went to see Coach Q, to ask about Jonathan’s injuries. By the time I found him, however, I had no time to ask him because I saw the door to the room where the doctor stayed open, and Jon walked out. He had stitches on his bottom lip, making me sigh. I am not sure if he heard me sigh, or felt my stares, but he turned my way, locking his gaze with mine.

“How bad is it?” I sighed out, after I walked over to him, touching his cheek.

“Just twenty this time,” his eyes stayed locked on mine.

I stood on my tippy toes, making me level with him. I bit the inside of my lower lip, debating if I should kiss him or not. I think he noticed me glancing between his soft brown eyes, and lips because he leaned in a little. Giving in, I lightly brushed my lips against his, pulling away a little later, not wanting to hurt his already swollen lip. Giggling at his puffy lip, I smirked at his confused gaze.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side.

“With your lip swollen like this,” I breathed, trying to calm down from laughing, “You remind me of Crosby.”

“Did you just compare him to Crosby?” The voice of Patrick Kane came from behind us, making me jump.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” I stared at him, confused. All he did was smirk, before walking away. “I worry about him sometimes.”

When I turned back around, I was met with Jonathan’s lips firmly pressed against mine. It made me gasp with surprise, but I soon recovered. However, as soon as I recovered, he pulled away, hissing in pain, which made me roll my eyes.

“That’s why I lightly placed my lips on yours you dork. I didn’t want to hurt you.”