Kane’s POV
As I head back toward Ashton with the orders from the coach, I feel it, eyes on me, which is weird because hundreds of eyes are on me as they are every time we play.
My gaze snaps to the stands, toward the section affectionately labelled the WAG section, where the women of my teammates sit. I’ve never invited anyone to sit there before, so I tend to ignore the area, but as the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, I scan the seats, my attention immediately caught by bright auburn hair.
She’s here, the thought slams into me as I stare up at her, followed by the irrational idea that, for some reason, she’s here for me. I frown at my own idiocy, of course she isn’t, in fact, I have no idea why Brandy is here; she hardly ever comes to games.
I turn my attention back to the ice a
