Chapter Twenty-Seven
Without Looking Back
Shane
Present
The first time I ever had a gut feeling about something, I was seven years old.
It was the night my parents died.
I was with my grandparents. Mom and Dad had been on a trip together celebrating their anniversary. They ended up flying home one day early to try to beat the snowstorm barreling toward the south — a region of the States ill equipped to handle what was coming.
I remember leaning over the back of Grandma’s couch and staring out the window as the snow fell down. I thought it was so pretty, but it also made my stomach turn.
“I don’t like the snow,” I’d said to Grandma.
“That’s silly. Every kid likes snow.”
“It’s dangerous.”
She’d frowned at that, ruffling my hair. “What an odd thing to say about snow.”
I think sometimes the universe tips us off. It gives us that little wriggle in our stomachs or tightening of our chest for a reason. I’d listened to that gut feeling ever since that night, no matter how ridiculous it felt, because I trusted my body. I trusted my instinct.
And now I had a gut feeling that Nathan Black was doing something to compromise the integrity of our game.
It started as nothing more than a flicker in the back of my mind, and I’d convinced myself I was being ludicrous because Ariana being back in my life had scrambled my brain. I didn’t like the man because he was with her, and I was fairly certain it wasn’t a good relationship.
But over the last two weeks, that flicker had grown teeth.
Nathan’s sudden trips to Vegas were easy enough to write off as work-related, but now I wondered what exactly he was doing there.
The way he strutted around the facility like he owned not just the team, but the men on it, only added to my suspicion.
The way some of my players had been acting was heavy on my mind, too — jokes dying the second I walked into the locker room, eyes cutting away, tension where there’d never been any.
None of it proved anything. But it all struck the same nerve.
I had a very slimy feeling that something gambling-adjacent was happening.
I didn’t tell anyone. I’d considered confiding in my assistant, Kozak, but the truth was I knew I had to be absolutely certain before I breathed a word of it to anyone.
And part of me hoped I was wrong.
Because if I was right, then it meant the mess went deeper than any of us wanted to consider — that the boys might be involved, that they may be being pressured or promised something behind closed doors.
It also meant I could lose Ariana before I’d even truly had her back.
I didn’t have proof of any foul play, and I hated that I was even thinking it. But the thought wouldn’t leave me alone, and I’d learned too young not to ignore that gut feeling.
So, I started writing things down. Dates of his trips and games that felt odd.
Comments I heard from him or other staff members or players.
Looks between people that made me suspicious.
Patterns I hadn’t noticed before but felt keyed into now.
It felt insane, maybe even personal, but the truth was simple: once the idea took hold, I couldn’t shake it.
I must have had the tension of my sleepless nights written in my expression on Thanksgiving, because Daddy P clapped his hand hard on my shoulder and shook me a little.
“Earth to Coach,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear. He smirked when I blinked back to the present. “It’s impossible for you to take a day off, isn’t it?” he teased. “I can see video playing in your head like your eyelids are projector screens.”
I chuckled, tilting my beer bottle to my lips on a shrug. We were standing in his backyard, an expansive thing with a massive pool and hot tub and pool house where Chloe stayed before they were a couple.
It was elite outdoor entertaining space — plush couches and chairs, a giant television beneath a shaded patio, Sonos speakers.
Chef Patel was manning — or should I say, womaning — the smoker while Will’s uncle watched her in awe.
The house and yard were alive with holiday festivities.
Maven and Livia were sprawled out in the grass with their babies crawling all over them and giggling at the bubble machine Chloe had set up.
Ava — Will’s daughter — was practicing her slap shot with Carter on one end of the pool while Jaxson and Vince argued about how to set the table.
Aleks and Mia were cuddled up on a pool float, oblivious to the world around them, and Grace was glued to the TV like she had money on the game, her fist thrusting into the air any time the Tarpons made a first down.
It made my chest ache as much as it made me smile, seeing such a lively holiday scene. My grandparents were gone now. My parents had been since I was a kid. I typically spent Thanksgiving alone at the arena, my focus entirely on the season and whatever game we were playing next.
Sometimes I thought about what my holidays could have been like in another world, one where I hadn’t walked away from Ariana because I thought it was the right thing to do.
I tried not to dwell on it.
“We both know St. Louis won’t be easy on us tomorrow,” I said. “At least one of us needs to be focused on how to win.”
“I was honestly surprised you accepted the invitation,” Will said. “And I’m glad you did. I think we all need a day off after the craziness lately.”
My stomach vaulted at his words, that suspicion lying dormant inside me stirring again. “It has been an interesting season so far, hasn’t it?”
Daddy P shook his head. “You’re telling me. Not exactly what I pictured for my last season.” He frowned, shifting his weight with a wince like his hip was bothering him. “I can’t put my finger on it, why this injury has suddenly become such a… problem.”
“Oh, I can answer that,” Jaxson said, joining us with a grin and an elbow nudge to his goalie. “You’re an old fart.”
Will flattened his lips. “Maybe. What’s your excuse for hitting glass more than the damn goalie?”
“His head is in the clouds planning a secret wedding,” Vince chimed in, and Jaxson nut-tapped him before the guys were all laughing.
Their banter continued on, but my focus was drifting… because there it was. Another reason for my hackles to be raised.
Why was this injury suddenly something knocking Daddy P out of games left and right, giving Ben Sandin more time on the ice than any of us projected?
I didn’t want to let my mind wander down that road. I sure as hell didn’t want to entertain even the remote possibility that someone on our training staff was in on whatever Nathan was orchestrating.
Fortunately, all my thoughts were erased in a pinch.
Because Ariana walked through the door.
For a second, the noise around me blurred, like the world had softened its edges just for her.
Sunlight spilled in behind her through the open doorway, catching in the loose fall of her hair as it brushed her shoulders, turning the dark blonde strands almost molten.
She wore a soft knit sweater that hugged her in a way that made my chest tighten, paired with jeans and boots that said she hadn’t overthought this, that she’d come as herself.
And her smile was just as soft.
She looked lighter than she had at the Skate for Change event, like the version of her I used to know — the one who laughed without checking the room first, who didn’t carry tension in every line of her body.
Seeing it hit me harder than I expected, a quiet ache settling deep in my chest. I told myself, not for the first time, that this was all I was allowed now. Watching. Not touching. Not reaching. Just taking her in like a memory I wasn’t permitted to disturb.
“Ariana! You made it!”
That squeal of a greeting came from Grace, who had her arms thrown around Ariana’s neck in an instant.
Ariana laughed a little as she strained not to drop or smush the pie in her hands.
She’d let herself in the front door of the house and was joining us through the sliding glass door that led outside.
Will and Chloe had it open so people could easily flow in and out, and the weather was perfect for it, one of those Florida days that almost felt like a real fall.
Her eyes slid to me, her cheeks flushing, but then her attention was pulled to the next person approaching her with a greeting. This time, it was Maven, who had a smiling, cooing Rowan on her hip.
I watched from a distance, letting everyone else welcome Ariana in.
Chloe took the pie from her hands and walked it inside as everyone else handed out hugs and smiles and welcomes.
Ava insisted Ariana come watch her “bring the noise” on Fabri, who barked out a laugh and said he’d like to see her try.
But before they could pull her away, I slid in with my heart in my throat.
“Ari,” I said.
Her blue eyes glittered as she lifted them to meet my gaze. “Shane.”
“I’m glad you came.”
She shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear before she looked down at her feet. “I’m glad for the invite.”
She smiled a little when she looked up at me through her lashes, and I swore my fucking heart thrummed like it was a string she’d plucked with that gaze. I opened my arms for a hug, and she slid in and wrapped her arms around me like it was nothing.
In an instant, I flashed back to when we were kids, to how I’d wait up for her the nights she volunteered late, or she’d wait up for me after games.
I could still smell our old apartment, the pine-scented candles she loved to light, and the old leather of the hand-me-down couch.
I buried my nose in her hair, wondering if she was remembering, too.
Ava cleared her throat. “Do you two know each other or something?”
That little girl cocked a brow at us, pointing a finger at me and then Ariana and then back to me.
I chuckled, reluctantly letting Ariana go. “We went to college together.”
“Oh,” Ava said, her shoulders jumping in a little shrug. “I thought maybe you were married.”