Chapter Twenty-Five #2
I decide to give it one more go before dropping the subject:
Was he boring? An idiot? Arrogant? Asshole? If he offended you, I can go up there and kick his ass. I grew up with hockey players, you know. I can drop gloves with the best of them.
I hit send.
She puts a laughing emoji on that comment, so that’s a good sign.
Hadleigh Vanderburg is typing …
No, he was fine.
I stare at the message. He was fine.
Something is so NOT fine with this whole meeting, but one of two things is happening here. Either Hadleigh doesn’t feel she knows me well enough to discuss whatever happened in her meeting with Xavier, which, fair play to her, I get that, or whatever happened, she doesn’t want to ever discuss.
I’m so invested.
I frown. Does that make me the asshole?
No. I decide it makes me human.
Another message drops in:
Looking forward to our coffee date when I get back. And GNO! I can’t wait for you to meet my friend Marley and her friend Ava.
She’s shifting the conversation away from Xavier. Much like I would do if she asked me if I was dating anyone.
There’s something about last night she doesn’t want to talk about.
I honor that by telling her I’m excited about coffee next week and end the conversation. But it doesn’t mean I’m not curious about what happened.
Ha. Apparently, the saying is true. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
I get up and peruse the dessert table. I love all the seasonal offerings they have.
There’s rugelach and jelly donuts to celebrate Hannukah, then all kinds of Christmas cookies and bars.
I grab a cardboard to-go box and put a piece of rugelach in it.
Then I move down to the display of cookies and brownies.
I use the tongs and grab two peppermint brownies, because I’ll take one home with me, and then throw in a gingerbread cookie for good measure.
There. I can eat my way through the stress of watching Ethan and Aiden play on the same ice tonight.
My phone buzzes in my bag. I fish it out and see it’s Mom, letting me know she’s here and in our seats.
I pause by the bar, set my box down, and quickly text her that I’m on my way up and ask if she needs anything. She tells me she’s good, and I make my way through the tunnels to the elevator, and eventually to our seats a few rows behind the Manatees bench.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, smiling.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she says.
I take a seat and situate myself. It’s so chilly down on this level, and I’m grateful for my oversized gray sweater and jeans. Only in Miami can you sweat on the walk from the parking lot, but feel cold when you take your seat.
We talk for a bit, mostly about Ethan and Jamie. I texted Jamie today and told him what Ethan said last night. Jamie told me to ignore him—that Ethan gets riled up about stuff, but then changes his mind once he gets to know more about the situation.
I wish I could have Jamie’s confidence.
Or believe that Ethan’s behavior wasn’t a strong preview of what is to come with Dad.
I open my box, and the rich scent of vanilla, chocolate, and powdered sugar wafts up toward me.
I break off a piece of the peppermint brownie and groan as I eat it.
It’s always my favorite combination, and this brownie is no exception.
I’m about to break off another piece when the PA announcer goes through his dramatics and announces the Miami Manatees.
They skate onto the ice, and I quickly spot Aiden.
He’s so damn hot in his hockey gear that I feel flushed just staring at him.
Soon there’s a pump-up video playing on the video screen over center ice and around the arena, players’ pictures flashing up as they are announced. When they show Aiden, I can’t contain the smile I feel spreading across my face at that A showing on his jersey.
That’s my man. And I’m so damn proud of him.
We all rise for the anthem, and again, my eyes drift to Aiden on the ice. He looks even bigger in his hockey gear and skates. Once the anthem is over, the top lines take to center ice for the drop of the puck. Aiden and Ethan are there, with Aiden playing defense and Ethan on the wing.
They are definitely going to mix it up tonight.
I break off another piece of my brownie and nervously take a bite.
The puck is dropped, and Las Vegas gains possession, moving the puck into the offensive zone.
Ethan has it, dumps it deep, and Aiden tries moving the puck when Ethan speeds up and slams him violently into the boards, sending him crumpling to the ice.
I gasp in horror, my hands flying to my mouth and my heart practically stuck in my throat as I stare at Aiden.
The arena erupts in fury as he drops to the ice, and Ethan stands over him as the Manatees move the puck in the other direction.
Aiden stands up, and they begin pushing and jawing at each other.
I want to vomit. Ethan has dragged my personal life right onto the ice. He’s going to make Aiden pay for the sin of dating me.
Aiden is big, but Ethan is a beast.
Don’t drop your gloves, I plead inside my head. Please don’t drop your gloves!
My prayer goes unanswered. Ethan immediately drops his gloves.
And punches Aiden right in the face.