The hockey team has a dinner together, then they’re heading straight to the stadium for a meeting before the game. It leaves all the CPU students who came for the game with about an hour to grab dinner.
Thalia, Willow, Violet—the latter two somehow worming their way into my short list of friends—plus some other dance girls are gathered around in the hotel lobby. They’re trying to figure out where we should eat. I’ve got Steele’s oversized jersey in my grip. He gave me the dark-blue one they wear at home games, but I haven’t put it on yet.
Because once I do, I’m sure I’ll draw more looks. Questionable ones.
More than I already have anyway.
I join the girls, and my phone vibrates in my hand.
Then, from across the lobby, “I see her! Asp!”
That’s a voice I would recognize anywhere.
My twelve-year-old sister, Lennox, charges through the hotel lobby and performs an expert flying tackle. I brace at the last minute, scooping her up and swinging her around. She’s tiny, especially for her age. Light enough to lift off her feet for a minute before returning her to the floor.
Her arms are locked around my neck, and even when she stands, she doesn’t release me. I’m left awkwardly bent over. I pat her arm, then force her hands apart. To cover for the rough handling, I slide my hand through her blonde hair.
Super blonde, almost platinum, like our mother.
“Hi,” I whisper.
She beams at me. “I knew I’d find you first.”
“That you did.”
“Aspen!” Mom calls, striding toward us. “Lennox, I told you not to run off.”
Len pouts. “But I was running to Asp, Mom. That’s gotta be okay. We haven’t seen her in forever.”
“It’s only been two months, kid.”
Two months is a lot. I try not to let that pang of guilt hit me. The one that says I should’ve gone home to visit or something. Called more. I don’t know.
Mom, Dakota, and Stephen join us. I hug Mom first, shake Stephen’s hand, then face my fourteen-year-old sister. The grumpy one, apparently. She eyes me like she’s annoyed with me for even being here.
I ignore it and drag her into a hug. “Missed you, D.”
She exhales. Slowly, her arms come up, and she hugs me back. But just for a few seconds, then she squirms out of my hold.
“How are you feeling?” Stephen asks.
I tilt my head. “I’m fine.”
Mom touches his arm, then hugs me again. It’s impulsive, but I go with it. Logically, I get why she married Stephen. It’s just claiming to be in love that has me confused. She’s always claimed love, even over the summer. Dramatic assurances, or displays of affection, left me feeling… untethered.
If she could love him so quickly, what about dropping out of love? Could that happen even faster?
The answer is yes, of course. Love is this fragile little thing, wrapped in trust and respect. If one of its shells cracks, the love can break. Or—sometimes it just means that love becomes more jagged.
Fucked-up shards of love, cutting everyone and everything.
That was her and Dad.
“Is this your family, Aspen?” Violet asks from behind me.
I step aside. “Yes, sorry. These are my sisters, Dakota and Lennox. My mom, Mari, and…”
“Stephen O’Brien,” he introduces. “Pleasure.”
“Same,” Violet answers. “That’s Thalia, who you might already know, and Willow.” Violet’s gaze travels over my siblings and then my mom. “We were going to go to the Japanese place down the street. Do you all want to join us?”
“Oh, no, we have reservations at a steak house,” Stephen says.
I got used to him being… normal, I guess? Like, over the summer he would wear jeans or shorts and t-shirts, he’d do work in his yard or bike ride with my sisters. Hell, he even took my mother on a fishing trip once, decked out in waders and those wide-brimmed hats.
But now he’s completely in his element as the rich guy. The expensive, perfectly tailored suit. The haircut that probably cost more than my entire outfit. His gleaming watch. And Mom’s dressed in a different manner than I’m used to, as well. She went for black pants and a caramel-colored sweater, with layered necklaces. But her hair is curled, her makeup flawless.
Her demeanor is different, too. Less skittish.
I eye Stephen, chewing over what Steele told me on the bus. That he wants dirt on his own child to get him out of college and out of hockey. To force him on a path he doesn’t want. It sounds achingly familiar, and it makes me loathe Stephen just a little bit more.
“Aspen, are you joining us?” Thalia asks.
“We didn’t think we’d see you before the game, honey,” Mom says, her expression contrite. “We could adjust our reservation—”
“No, no, it’s okay.” I step back, closer to my friends. “I’m going to have dinner with them. We’ll see you after the game.”
They nod, and Stephen herds my mom away. The girls follow a bit more slowly, eyeing me with confusion.
“That was awkward,” Thalia whispers. She loops her arm around mine. “Are you going to put that on or just hold on to it all night?”
I sigh and shake out the jersey. It smells like him, which is probably the best—and worst—part. After what happened on the bus, the last thing I need is to have him on my mind every second, thinking about his hands on me.
Jeez. I need to get a hold of myself.
Slipping the jersey over my head feels like I’m being invaded by Steele from all sides. And it’s not unpleasant either. In fact, part of me never wants to exhale.
Did he wear it before he gave it to me?
Or spray it with his cologne?
I wouldn’t put either past him. Especially since his smell is so visceral, it drags up every lust-filled thought. And memory.
“Ready,” I say, smiling at my friends.
Friends. Plural.
Haven’t been able to say that in a while. But for the first time in too fucking long, I feel like it’s a hundred percent true.
ME
How’s your dinner meeting?
STEELE
Coach is giving us a pep talk. *snoring emoji*
What’re you doing? What are you eating?
Our parents made dinner reservations and didn’t account for me.
Don’t take it personally, Dad probably doesn’t want to catch your looney tunes disease.
…
Sorry, too soon?
A hundred years would be too soon.
So, where’d you go??
Mars.
Aspen.
Some Japanese place with friends.
Girl friends?
Well, you scared off Chase, so yeah. All I have left are girl friends.
I feel exceptionally smug about that, little viper. And for the record, I had grilled chicken and a salad. It was quite boring.
Where did you go?
I’m eating.
Should we make it interesting?
Should we make WHAT interesting?
Do you have some food kink I didn’t know about? Because I’m gonna pass on that one…
What? No. The game.
(Obviously.)
I’m listening…
Well, the Devils are known for being particularly aggressive.
Are you proposing you get into a fight?
If it would turn you on, yeah.
What if you lose?
Baby, I never lose a fight.
But… are you saying you want me to lose? Or win?
A blow to your pride would certainly help. Shave off some of your ego.
A blow of something else would be even better 😉
I want to see blood.
Your blood. On the ice.
And if you’re lucky, I’ll kiss it and make it better later.
