Chapter Twenty-Six
I drop my to-go box as I rise to my feet with the rest of the crowd, which is cheering and banging on the glass. Ethan lands another blow to Aiden’s face as Aiden tries to drop his gloves.
I put my fist to my mouth, biting back the words I want to shout at the top of my lungs.
Stop it, Ethan! Stop it!
Mom is saying something, but I can’t hear her over the noise of the crowd and my heart roaring in my ears.
Aiden finally drops his gloves, grips Ethan’s right shoulder to steady himself, and lands a strong punch on Ethan’s jaw, causing his head to snap back.
The crowd goes crazy in approval. Ethan grabs Aiden by the jersey, fisting it in his left hand as he hits him again with his right, knocking his helmet off.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes. I know fighting is a part of hockey, but this isn’t about the game.
This is about me.
Aiden punches him back, and I’m about to throw up all over the floor.
Ethan wrestles him to the ice, landing a punch on Aiden’s torso, and then the refs break it up.
Aiden picks up his helmet and makes his way off the ice.
His hair is disheveled, hanging down across his brow.
I can see he’s got a cut on his face and his nose is bleeding, and he’s going to have to be treated in the dressing room.
Dad will pick another player to serve his penalty time.
As I watch Ethan makes his way to the Las Vegas penalty box, the fury I have toward my brother bursts wide open.
“Why is Ethan such an asshole?” I snap angrily as the Manatees players on the bench all tap their sticks against the boards in acknowledgement of Aiden’s fight.
“What do you mean? This is hockey,” Mom says as we retake our seats.
“That was not hockey,” I spit.
Mom’s dark brows furrow together. “Of course it was. What do you mean by that, Scarlett?”
Damn it. She’s got a suspicious look on her face, and I need to throw her off before she starts analyzing too much. I think quickly, which isn’t easy when I’m worried about Aiden and furious at Ethan.
“What could Aiden have possibly done during the first shift to warrant that?” I manage.
Actually, that was a reasonable response, and I’m amazed I was able to come up with it.
She’s still staring at me, and I decide that picking up my box of pastries is a very important activity that must be done right this second.
“I would think you’d be cheering for Ethan,” my mother says slowly.
Panic seizes me. She’s staring at me with Mom vision—knowing there’s something else going on here, but she’s not quite sure what.
“I’m not cheering for him when he’s being a jerk.” I pop open my box and take another bite of peppermint brownie in an effort to appear normal. GAH. Bad idea. My stomach is churning so much that I could puke it right back up.
I shift my attention back to the ice, over to Ethan sitting in his box, and resist the strong urge to go over there and murder him.
How dare he take it upon himself to attack Aiden for dating me.
HOW DARE HE. I don’t need to be protected or saved from Aiden!
When is he going to see that I’m an adult?
I’m a smart, capable woman who makes her own decisions.
And it’s high time my family trusted me to do it.
“Why are you staring at Ethan like that?”
I blink, finding my mom’s astute gaze pinned on me. “Like what?”
“Like you want to rip his head off.”
Well, she’s accurate about that.
“I don’t like stupid hockey.”
Mom continues to stare. I suddenly have a desire to go back to the private club and get a shot of tequila at the bar to fortify myself to get through this game.
I resume force-feeding myself my brownie, and Mom lets her line of questioning drop.
One thing is for sure. I’m not letting Ethan get away with this.
And he’s going to hear my thoughts as soon as this game is over.
* * *
After watching the Manatees lose 1-0 to Las Vegas, I wander the familiar basement corridors of the Premier Airlines Arena, my arms folded across my chest. I’m not headed to the Manatees lounge to wait for Aiden—like my heart so desperately desires—but going with my mom to meet Ethan outside of the visitors’ dressing room for a brief goodbye before he has to hop on the bus for the airport.
I managed to get my calm back for the rest of the game, but as we get closer to the visitor dressing room, my anger at Ethan resurfaces.
We reach the area where we agreed to meet him, and my phone buzzes inside my clear bag.
I step away from my mom, leaning against a concrete wall as I retrieve my phone.
I see that Aiden has texted me back, answering the apology I sent him during the game.
You have nothing to apologize for, baby. Unless you told Ethan to try and beat the shit out of me.
I text him back:
I’m waiting for him now outside the visitor dressing room. I wish I were waiting for you instead.
Brooks is typing …
I promise you there will be a time when that will be the case.
I bite my lip. Aiden is still so hopeful that he can win Dad over, that he will find a way to get him to accept this, and everything will be okay.
If only I could share his optimism.
I fear the worst for Aiden, but one thing I know for sure. If Aiden is traded to another team?
That changes nothing between us.
We will figure out a way to make it work.
It will be hard and painful, but that is the conversation we had late into the night, facing each other in bed, our limbs tangled together in his cool white sheets, our hands linked.
We know what we have. Instead of panicking about it, we remained grounded in what we know is true.
We’re in love. And we’re going to stay that way.
Ethan steps out through the visitors’ dressing room doors, wearing a Las Vegas T-shirt and a backward baseball cap. I’m satisfied to see there is some bruising on his jaw, because he deserves it.
“What got into you tonight?” Mom says, hugging him. “You were in beast mode!” I narrow my gaze from my position on the wall. She is oblivious to me right now, all her attention focused on my brother.
“That guy gets under my skin,” he says.
Ooh! I nearly bite my tongue in half to stay silent.
“Aiden? After what your father said about him last night?” Mom asks, incredulous. “You didn’t seem upset with him then, and you pounced on him during the first shift!”
Ethan rubs his hand over his beard, his fingertips tracing over the thick black stubble. “I needed to make a statement to Coach. And others.” His gaze travels over to me, where I’m standing against the concrete blocks, the cold seeping through my back. “Scar,” he says, nodding his head.
Mom turns and looks at me, a frown forming on her mouth.
Damn it, she’s thinking again. The last thing I want to do is hug Ethan because I’m furious with him, but I need to throw her off. So I put a smile on my face, walk over, and give him a hug, ignoring not only how sweaty he is, but how my blood is practically boiling right now with anger toward him.
I step back. “Have a good trip.”
Ethan looks as if he wished he could say a million things to me, but he can’t. Instead, he clears his throat. “Gotta go. Love you guys.”
Then he’s back in the dressing room. I turn to Mom. “I’ve got to go, too.”
She’s still studying me, trying to figure out what is going on between Ethan and me, but I’m not going to give her a chance to do it.
I give her a quick hug. “Love you. Talk to you later.”
I start to leave, but Mom reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. “Sweetie, you know you can tell me anything, right? Anything at all?”
“Of course,” I say brightly.
She arches an eyebrow skeptically. “Okay.”
I say goodbye and leave. This time, I don’t feel guilty about keeping my relationship a secret. This belongs to me. It’s not open for my family to dissect and provide unwanted opinions on.
I’m going to protect Aiden, I vow. I’m doing it now. And I’ll do it when we decide to inform my family we’re a couple, too.
But at the moment? Ethan is about to get an earful.
I make my way to my car, slide behind the wheel, and don’t even start it before I pick up my phone and pull up Ethan’s number. I wait for it to go to voicemail, since I know he’s changing and showering before they have to get out of here for the airport.
One ring. Two rings. On the third, his familiar voice comes on the line, and the sound of it makes my blood singe, I’m so mad.
“Hey. This is Ethan. I can’t take your call. Leave your message and I’ll get back to you.”
A beep fills my ear, and as soon as it ends, I let go of everything I’ve held inside from the second he punched Aiden tonight.
“Ethan. Scarlett. Don’t you EVER interfere in my life like that again.
You were such an asshole tonight. I am not a child.
I do not need—or WANT—your quote-unquote protection.
I’m an adult. You might not like that, but I am.
You might not like my decisions, but they aren’t yours to make.
Aiden is a good man—despite him breaking some stupid hockey code—and if you took more than ten seconds to think about it, you’d be freaking GRATEFUL that a man that kind, that protective, that strong, wants to love your sister.
I’m going to be with Aiden. Period. Picking a fight with him on the ice because he’s dating your little sister—in some sort of Neanderthal move—is immature at best. Grow up.
And don’t call me back until you’ve done that. ”
Then I hang up and throw my phone into the passenger seat. My body is shaking with adrenaline. My heart is hammering against my ribs. My throat is dry as I finally take another breath.
I have never spoken to Ethan like that in my life. When he and Jamie would interfere, I just let them. I lived through the embarrassment of having brothers scaring off potential dates, and I relished the freedom I had when I went to Connecticut for school.