Chapter Twenty-One
“Looking for a free meal like I am?”
“Ethan!” I say, throwing my arms around my brother as he answers the front door at my parents’ house. It’s Tuesday night—the evening before the Las Vegas versus Miami game, and we’re all having dinner together, which is something I haven’t been able to do during the season since I started college.
And I realize just how much I missed him the second I see him standing before me.
“Hey, little sister,” he says, embracing me. “How are you?”
I move back from him. Ethan towers over me with his six-six frame. His brown hair is wavy and unruly in that messy-cool way, and his T-shirt reveals full tattoo sleeves on each arm. A lazy smile is on his face, but I see nothing but affection shining for me in his blue eyes.
“I’m great,” I say, smiling up at him. Ethan moves aside, and I step into my parents’ luxurious house.
It’s bright and airy, nearly all glass, with lots of windows, white marble floors, and sleek modern furniture.
It’s completely decked out for Christmas, with white lights twinkling in greenery, LED candles lit, and at the end of the hallway, in the den, I see the big Christmas tree, decorated in silver and gold.
Mom has her favorite Christmas music on, the sounds from “The Nutcracker” playing in the distance.
“Yeah? I see you still have a mark from where the iguana hit you,” Ethan says, shutting the door behind me. “I still can’t believe that happened to you, Scar.”
UGH. My goose egg has disappeared, but now I have a huge bruise on the side of my forehead that can only be described as hideous.
“Yes, I’ve become quite famous around Manatees headquarters as the only person there ever to be hit by an iguana.”
Ethan chuckles. We walk down the hall, and as we get closer to the kitchen, I smell Mom’s homemade red sauce filling the air.
“Spaghetti,” I say.
Ethan grins. “My request. I’m so excited to get a home-cooked meal.”
We enter the kitchen, and Mom immediately stops stirring her sauce and stares at me, wincing as she sees the black bruise on my forehead.
“I know, I still look like crap,” I say, putting my purse down on the expansive marble island and taking a seat on one of the high-backed stools.
“No, it just looks so painful,” she says.
“It’s not any worse than bruises Ethan and Jamie have brought home, and you know it,” I challenge, smiling knowingly at her.
Mom frowns. She knows she can’t dispute that after years of stitches, broken bones, and bruising from my brothers playing hockey. “I’m just glad you didn’t get a concussion.”
“Nope. Just a headache and a black-and-blue reminder.”
Ethan leans across the island from me, helping himself to some prosciutto on the charcuterie board. “I want the whole story. How did it happen?”
“Well, it happened because I’m an idiot and didn’t know this was a thing here in Florida when the temperature drops.
So I’m walking on the sidewalk under a bunch of trees, and when it hit me, I didn’t know what was happening.
I thought someone might have punched me.
So I fell and screamed, then another, huger iguana fell and nearly hit my hand, and I was totally freaked out. ”
Dad walks into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a black Manatees polo shirt. “The Wentworth brothers were in the parking lot and immediately came to her aid,” he says. “Do you want something to drink, Scarlett?”
“Just a glass of water with ice is fine,” I say. “Thank you.”
Ethan grins at me, picking up his bottle of beer. “Oh, I bet those hockey players came to your aid. Hot girl in distress, and they get to rescue her from evil iguanas.”
My chest grows tight. I don’t like where this conversation is going.
“Ethan,” Mom warns, looking at him with disgust. “Men can help without having a motive.” She picks up her glass of red wine and takes a sip.
Dad turns around and shoots him a look. “My players,” he says firmly, “know better than that.”
“Hello, I’m right here,” I remind everyone. “And I don’t need to be protected from anyone.”
“Let me rephrase that for you. You just need to be protected from iguanas,” Ethan teases.
“Shut up,” I say, and he shoots me a playful smirk before taking a drink of beer. Dad hands me a glass of water, and I thank him for it.
“Scarlett is right,” Dad says. “She doesn’t need to be protected. Because she knows better than to date a hockey player.”
A couple of weeks ago, this conversation would have made me nauseous.
But right now?
It’s making me annoyed.
“Well, according to this logic, Mom shouldn’t have married you, and no woman should ever go out with Jamie or Ethan, am I right?” I challenge.
Ethan studies me, and it reminds me of the way Jamie looked at me during our video chat.
I grab my water and take a sip. I might have been too cavalier with what I just said. But damn it, I’m tired of everyone deciding what is best for me.
“Where is this coming from?” Dad asks, his penetrating gaze turned on me.
I do a casual shrug when my old self—the dutiful daughter—begins to rise to the surface. “It’s a fact.”
Mom heaves an exasperated sigh. “You’re all being silly.
This is a hypothetical conversation about something that will never happen.
Scarlett, your father is one in a million.
I raised Jamie and Ethan to be the same.
But you know how most hockey players are.
At least when they’re younger. And we know you.
You’ve always been so serious with your relationships.
If you dated in the hockey community, it would be someone from the front office.
Someone without the temptations today’s players face.
That would be far enough from your dad where it could be acceptable. ”
She casually adds spaghetti to a pot of boiling water, unaware of the turmoil she’s creating inside of me.
“As always, your mom is right,” Dad says, smiling affectionately at her.
“And back to your original comment, Ethan—we’re talking about Wyatt and Aiden Wentworth.
Wyatt is nobody Scarlett would be interested in because he’s a player off the ice.
And Aiden’s one of my alternate captains.
He knows the rules, both in the rule book and the unwritten ones.
That’s why I selected him for the A, even though he’s brand new to the team.
That kid has a quiet leadership I admire, and I know I can trust him. Especially around Scarlett.”
I suddenly feel sick, my stomach churning at a rapid rate.
All my annoyance and bravado have shifted into pure anxiety.
I always knew getting Dad to understand my relationship with Aiden was going to be hard, but hearing it is making me realize the uphill mountain we’re going to have to climb when we come forward.
And I worry what the cost will be to Aiden when we do it.
“Now, Becks Bailey—if I had seen him sniffing around you, sweetheart—would be the one I would worry about,” Dad continues. “But even he’s got a girlfriend and he’s serious about her.”
“It’s truly the season of miracles,” Mom teases.
The conversation shifts to other topics—mostly about how Ethan is doing in Las Vegas, and every now and then I feel him staring at me.
I quickly pull out my phone and decide to distract myself by sending a message to Hadleigh.
She flew out to Las Vegas this morning, and she’s going to meet her F1 driver crush, Xavier Williams, at some chic hotel where he’s going to DJ.
I tap open my messages, and the first one I see is from her.
Hadleigh Vanderburg: OMG IT IS HAPPENING IT IS REALLY HAPPENING I AM MEETING XAVIER TONIGHT. I WANT TO VOMIT ALL OVER MYSELF.
I grin and text her back:
If you do that, just tell him you pregamed too hard before hitting the club. I bet he’d respect that. What are you wearing tonight?
I hit send. I’ll be the first one to admit I knew nothing about F1 before meeting Hadleigh, but I’ve become invested in her situation.
I’m even going to watch the race on Saturday night.
I also learned Xavier is THE playboy on the circuit, loves to have a good time, and can win up the Drivers’ Championship with this race if he wins.
Hadleigh Vanderburg is typing …
It’s Vegas. So I’m doing a short dress, high heels, and SEQUINS. Even though it’s freezing here, I’m going to pretend it’s irrelevant and strut around like it’s eighty degrees instead of fifty.
I smile. I’m so glad I met Hadleigh, she’s so fun. And so, so funny.
I put my phone down and get up off the stool, moving around to where Mom is cooking as Ethan and Dad get into hockey talk.
“Want me to make the salad?” I ask.
She smiles warmly at me. “That was always your task, wasn’t it?”
“It was. I know my limitations. I’m not the world’s greatest cook,” I say, going to the fridge and locating the things I need. I gather everything on the countertop.
Mom opens a cabinet and hands me a large glass bowl. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re really feeling okay?” she asks, studying my forehead.
“Mom. I promise you, I’m fine,” I say, rinsing the cucumbers and tomatoes in a colander.
A guilty expression passes over my mom’s face. “I know, I know, but you’re still my little girl. Even though you aren’t.”
I turn off the water and shake the colander.
That’s the problem. The people inside this kitchen—Mom, Dad, Ethan—all still see me as sixteen-year-old Scarlett.
As someone they need to protect, as someone they don’t trust to make the right decisions for herself, whether it’s how I feel after being hit in the head or who I can date.
I begin slicing the cucumber as I think some more about this. I thought the hardest part about graduating from college was making new friends. And it was. I’m still in that process, but with Georgie and Hadleigh, I feel hopeful that I’m on the verge of having some good ones.
Now I see that part of being an adult is wrestling with what is expected of me—by my parents, by unwritten hockey code—which is at odds with what I want for my life. I have to find a way to reconcile that, and it’s something I never thought I would have to do.
Tonight isn’t the night I have to face it, but it is coming.
And my number-one priority is to make sure Aiden isn’t hurt in the process.
* * *
Dinner went by quickly, and thankfully, with no further talk about dating hockey players.
Conversation still stayed centered around hockey, and Aiden came up a few times.
Not that Dad was giving away any Manatee game plans or secrets—but he talked about how much talent Aiden has, what a great acquisition he was, and how he’s not only a fantastic leader, but a fantastic person, too.
I felt sick when Dad kept praising Aiden like that. I couldn’t even look up from my plate. Dad is going to see this as a major betrayal when he comes forward, because my father lives by this stupid code, and apparently, Aiden is the last player he’d ever expect to break it.
I could ruin Aiden’s career in Miami, I think as my stomach ties into a knot.
Guilt. Nothing but guilt rages through me as I help Mom clear the table. Aiden doesn’t fully understand what he’s going to face. He says he does, but how can he? He’s never broken a rule this big in his life.
“Hey, little sister, want to drive me back to my hotel later?” Ethan asks as he brings in some plates. “Save Dad the trip?”
“Sure,” I say, rinsing a plate.
“Here, let me load for you,” Ethan says, taking it from my hands.
“Thank you.”
“I never realize how much I miss home until I’m here,” he confesses, slipping the plate into the dishwasher rack.
I rinse another one. “You miss loading the dishwasher?” I tease.
“Smart ass,” he says. “No, but it’s nice to see everyone. And sometimes I see things others might not see. Things Mom and Dad might not notice because they see you all the time.”
I turn off the faucet and stare at him. Ethan levels a knowing gaze at me, and a wave of uneasiness ripples through me.
“I think,” he says, dropping his voice to a murmur only I can hear, “something is going on with you and one of the Wentworth brothers. And I’m going to give you a hundred different reasons why you need to knock it off.”