Pippa’s wearing a Vancouver Storm hat. I blink, staring at her in it, and those sparks ignite in my chest all over again. She lights up, lifting her hand in a quick, shy wave that makes the corner of my mouth tip up. I wave back, and the frustration I felt moments before melts away. She points at her hat, and I nod, letting myself smile at her. I like seeing her in my team’s gear. Beside her, my mom is chatting away, smiling. She says something to Pippa, who nods and laughs. My mom likes Pippa and asks about her every time I call, and I like that, too. I like that after the game, Pippa and
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