34. Silas
Don’t worry—he’s not coming back here.
Storm’s words have been haunting me for days.
The guy is from Blue River Springs. I feel it in my gut and I can’t let it go.
Who is he, Storm?
My chest has been burning with the secrecy. The slip.
I’m ready to make this woman my life and she can’t give me a fucking name.
The media’s been quiet the last few days so it’s a good sign that Harvey’s keeping it all at bay. In the meantime, Storm and I agreed she wouldn’t come to more games—not until I’m playing at least. By then, she’ll know she doesn’t have to worry about Max thinking this is temporary.
She’ll know I’m not leaving her ever again.
And then to hell with what the media says. They can all zoom in on the diamond I intend to put on her finger. On the name across the jerseys they’ll be wearing. The name I’ll give them both.
It doesn’t matter who he is, Bumble Bee. Because you and Max are mine now. To love and protect.
And I’m not letting some deadbeat—
My phone pings and my heart skips a beat. I’m suited up and meeting Coach and others to get out on the ice while the boys warm up.
It’s a picture of Storm and Max in their jerseys on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.
Storm: Max is allowed one Hershey Kiss every time you come on the screen.
My stomach flips and I can’t help my grin as I type back.
Silas: And what kind of kiss do I get every time I come on the screen?
Storm: One I’ll unwrap for you when you get home.
Silas: I’m coming over?
I don’t bother with emojis, she’ll know I’m teasing.
Storm: Too presumptuous?
Silas: No such thing. I’ll be there.
My stomach twists because I want to end with an I love you, before taking my place in the stands.
But the first time I say those words to her, I want my arms around her.
To assure her that she’s safe to love me back.
And that it’s never too presumptuous to expect me to come over because I’ll always be coming home to her.
The lights dim as we take our places and the arena gears up for puck drop. My seats are empty but they won’t be for long. Soon enough they’ll belong to the two most important people in my life.
I sneak a glance at my messages with Storm again, to that picture of her and Max on the couch—for once wishing the cameras would sweep in my direction.
Before I close it, I catch a new message from Jasper. I haven’t heard from the guy in years, and he’s texted twice in the past week.
The first time saying it’s been forever and heard I’m back in town. The second, asking for tickets to tonight’s game. I ignored that one too.
Prepared for another eye-rolling message, I click it open.
Jasper: Lookin’ sharp out there, man. Let’s catch up tonight.
I’ll pass.
News must travel slow to whatever hellhole he crawled under, because I know exactly why he’s reached out now.
Misery loves company.
And Jasper Hayes has always been miserable about my success. After his dreams died, he latched on to mine. Now that I’m injured and speculations about my return are booming, he’s intrigued.
Well, I’m not interested in his gloating or backhanded words of, Well, you had a nice run, what’s next for Blue River’s golden boy?
Just like I wasn’t interested in the dumb party he threw for me ten years ago like I was some hometown legend.
One I only considered making an appearance at because he’d promised he’d get Storm there.
Somehow he always knew she was special to me.
Probably since the first time I leveled the guy in the locker room for calling her “horse girl.” A name that quickly died down after that.
Something about it always sat weird with me.
Like he wasn’t celebrating me so much as mourning the version of himself he thought he’d become.
Heaven knows why I stayed friends with him after that. Suppose because it made sense. We were both jocks. Our families well known in town. Mine had the biggest ranch, his practically monopolized real estate in our town.
Jasper and I defined the “in” crowd. We didn’t join one, we were it.
He played on the school’s football team, while I was involved in the region’s hockey league and travel team.
I went on to get a scholarship and NHL prospect almost immediately.
He was injured senior year and his full scholarship offer was pulled.
After that, there was a bitterness in our friendship and we eventually lost touch.
I make a mental note to reach back out at some point and set my phone away, wanting nothing to mess with the picture in my head.
We’re playing Texas today. It’s only first period and the game is already tilting the wrong way. Missed coverage. Two penalties—both the Denver Kings, and it’s getting physical out there early.
It’s like we’re chasing instead of dictating.
My stomach tightens every time the puck clears our zone—most of which I could’ve easily prevented.
I stand shoulder to shoulder with Coach, suit stiff against my body, hands shoved in my pockets so I don’t accidentally air a pass with an invisible stick.
Coach mutters under his breath when we give up another rush and I agree with him.
Edwards’s timing was off. I can see from where I stand Chase is pissed too and our team is hearing it.
Jeffrey, one of the owners, glances at me. He doesn’t have to say it. I know what I give them—speed, sight, the ability to score without chaos—except for that one time.
Hence why I’m watching tonight’s disaster.
By the second period, Jeff’s no longer quiet, eyes hard, jaw set as the clock keeps bleeding down. “Thorne. Think you’re ready?” he asks, like it’s casual.
I don’t hesitate. “Just need those tests moved up.” The words come out clean, certain, with a single glance at Coach, who’s been too concerned about my getting back in the game. I’ve been back on the ice, suited even, since I was cleared. But no contact, no sticks. No goddamn point.
Jeff watches the ice for another beat, then nods at Coach. “Move them up. I don’t want to waste another minute.” His gaze cuts to me. “We need you out there.”
Coach turns to me. “I’ll make the calls. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
He holds my gaze. “But you better be ready. He’s right. We need you. But I’m not messing with your recovery for one second too soon.”
I nod. “I wouldn’t take that risk again, sir.”
Satisfied with my honest answer, he turns back to the game. And for the first time in weeks, I see myself in it.
It was a long game, whistles dragging it out far past where it should’ve ended. I drag a hand through my hair when I leave Coach’s office. The game was brutal enough that I feel the exhaustion in my bones. As if I were out there tonight.
The boys are all out in the hall outside the locker room, fans with passes loud and restless behind the black rope.
Chase offered me a ride back to town tonight, since he and Pepper are heading to their cottage in Hideaway Springs, but I don’t see him out here, so I decide to wait for him in the parking lot. On my way out, I fist bump a few of my teammates who look like they’ve seen better days.
I’m still in my suit, but I’ve ditched the tie and a few buttons along my shirt as I head down the long hall.
“Silas.”
For a second I feel like I’m imagining the little voice, but when I turn, he’s very real.
I catch Max in my arms as he races to me. My smile nearly impossible. Storm’s grin is wide, eyes glimmering as she catches up. “Going somewhere, hotshot?”
I glance behind her. “How’d you—I thought you were home.”
“We were, but you weren’t getting any camera time and the game was rough to watch so I hopped in your car and drove us over here . . . Pepper let us in.” She scrunches her nose. “I figured you could use some cheering up.”
Heat rushes through my veins when I look at the fans pressed up against the rope. A few players lined up signing autographs and pucks. “Tell me you didn’t come through that.”
“No. I texted her and she snuck me in through the back door.”
I exhale and wrap my arms around her, my heart swelling so much it hurts. “I’m so happy to see you.” I kiss the side of her head wondering how long I might be able to hold her like this before it gets weird. Then I stiffen—nearly flinch when I realize what she’d said. “Which car’d you take?”
“The Range.” She cocks her head at me. “Do I look like I have a death wish driving your one true love?”
I roll my eyes.
“It’s so flashy and . . . yellow. Why yellow?”
I press my forehead against hers. “You haven’t figured it out yet, Bumble Bee?”
Her eyes flash with surprise and disbelief.
I wink. “Come on. Let’s go home.” Wrapping my arm around her and taking Max’s hand, I lead them toward the exit. “You mind driving? I’m exhausted.”
“Hey, Thorne!”
I pause at the voice. It’s distant and not one of my teammates. But the tone comes off like there’s familiarity between us.
Frowning, I turn. Security towers over a tall figure. Dark hair, dark eyes, and broad shoulders.
“No, no, he knows me. We’re friends,” I hear, and it’s so faint, but I’d know the guy anywhere.
Jasper.
I turn back to Storm, who’s zipping up Max’s jacket—my team jacket—before we step out into the cold. “Baby, give me one second. Need to say hello and then get rid of him.”
Storm touches my shoulder gently. “Oh, go ahead. I need to run Max to the restroom before the drive home.”
“See you out here in a minute,” I tell her, then make my way back over toward the crowd.
Security glances back and I give him a single nod of approval. They unhook the rope and let him through.
“Silas!” Jasper calls, jogging over to where I stand in the middle of the long hallway. “Man, it’s good to see you.” He reaches to punch my arm, then pauses and hits the left one. “Oh, that was close, huh?”
I blink, clenching my teeth. “I’m actually good, thanks, Jasper. It’s . . . good to uh, see you too.” I shake my head, glancing behind him. “I’m sorry, what are you doing here?”
He jerks like I’m being crazy. “Came to see you, support you. Man, sucks, doesn’t it? Injuries like that really mess with your head. I mean one minute, you’re the guy, next you’re watchin’ from the sidelines.”
Yep. That tracks. Glad he can’t surprise me anymore.
“I appreciate you coming to . . . support me.”
“Hey, let’s go grab some drinks. Happy to join you and the team if you’re all headin’ somewhere.”
“Actually, I’m heading home. We’ll catch up another time, Jasper.” I pull my duffle over my shoulder and turn back, taking a few feet before I hear him behind me.
“That Storm Dalton everyone talkin’ about?” he calls, making me pause.
I turn, careful not to attract any unwanted attention. “What?”
He draws closer, a casual smirk on his face. “Your hiatus fling.” He cocks his head. “Looks awfully familiar.”
I don’t blame him—or anyone for that matter—for thinking the girl wearing my jersey is a fling. It’s a rep I gave myself. So I can’t put my finger on why this bothers me to my very core. Or why I want to put him through a wall right now.
The bathroom door swings open and Storm steps out. Max behind her. Sweeping her eyes past me, she finds Jasper. They flash wide before the color drains from her face.
I reach for her and she steps beside me, stiff as a board. “Hey, everything all right?” I ask quietly.
She looks up at me, breath shallow, guarded, like she’s bracing for a fall.
The hell? Did someone photograph her again? Was there a reporter in the bathroom?
“Storm Dalton. I knew that was you,” Jasper clips—a little too loud and aggressive for my comfort.
“Jasper, let’s step outside for this little reunion, shall we?” There is no reunion. But I need to remind him that no one needs to know Storm’s name—not yet.
Storm doesn’t move. She glares at Jasper. Pushing Max behind her.
He doesn’t miss it. His eyes grow wide and he points a finger at him. “Wa—wait a minute. This . . . this doesn’t count. I didn’t make contact. This doesn’t count Storm,” he shouts.
My blood goes cold, my stomach turns and all breath knocks out of me. It’s familiar—worse maybe—than when my shoulder shattered against the boards and the world went black.
Except now I’m only seeing red.
My movements feel delayed and heavy as I turn my head down to look at her.
She doesn’t meet my gaze. She keeps them hard on Jasper. “Fine. It doesn’t count. But you have three seconds to—”
“This him?” His eyes glance from Storm to Max and I’m ready to do some damage. “Hey, kid. What’s—”
“Don’t even think about it.” Storm’s warning is low, even. Eyes sharp.
Chase appears from out of the crowd of fans and meets my gaze with a question. I nod toward Max and my best friend reads me like a book. “Hey, there’s my favorite kid.” I catch him wink at Storm as he takes Max’s hand from her grip. “I ever show you my motorcycle?”
Pepper sprints behind and they vanish past the side entrance into the parking lot.
Jasper glares at Storm. “I was just saying hello.” He edges closer. “I wasn’t gonna—”
“Take one more step and I’ll put you on the floor,” I warn under my breath, every word edged with a threat I plan to follow through.
Jasper’s expression hardens momentarily but he takes a slow step back. “Catch up another time then.”
Just when I think he’s going to be smart and leave, he turns his eyes on Storm. “Don’t think I’m not good for it,” he tells her in a low growl.
My legs carry me in front of her, my jaw tight. “You better pray you’re good for it,” I seethe and it’s all I say. The rest of my threat is in my glare and he reads me loud and clear.
Reaching back, I take Storm’s hand in mine again, it’s trembling but not with fear. Like she’s ready to go to war. I give it a squeeze to let her know she won’t have to. “Now why don’t you make like ten years ago—and disappear.”
Anger still buzzes under my skin when we reach the car. Max doesn’t ask who the man was and I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or not. I buckle him into the back seat, giving him an easy smile and wink.
I crowd Storm against the driver door. “Get in the passenger seat.”
“No.” Her voice is heavy and dry, barely glancing up at me. “You had a long night, I told you I’d dri—”
“You’re not driving, Storm.” My tone isn’t much softer than it was with Jasper back there and I take a breath. “I’m fine. Give me the keys. I’ll get you home faster.”
She swallows and nods, dropping them into my hand. I try not to notice the contact of her delicate skin. The mist in her eyes. Or the fact that I know she’s holding it together for Max’s sake.