Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
DONOVAN
If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear this stranger is about ten seconds away from having a complete meltdown. He’s trembling, a frightened rabbit beneath my hand, his eyes so wide with fear he almost looks like a cartoon.
So wide it almost looks fake.
It’s odd for someone to be back here in this space at this time of night.
Well, odd for someone other than me to be here, I suppose.
I have a habit of wandering after a game, and I stumbled upon this building by sheer chance.
I’d just blown a two-goal lead that would have seen my hockey team with the win if my brain had only reacted faster to the shots being fired at me.
After the next loss with me in net, I’d found my way back here, and now it’s just a habit to head into the silence of this place after a game doesn’t go my way.
I can see the stars here, like I could back home.
I can breathe here, like I could before my contract was signed and I was pulled away from everything I’d ever known to be plunked down in Boston, Massachusetts.
I’m miles away from my Canadian home, wearing a Seaport Snakes hoodie in shades of green I’m still not used to, but here in this quiet place behind this abandoned building, it doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable to exist. There’s a peace here that I haven’t found anywhere else in this city, not even on the ice where I can usually find my footing, but now someone else is in it and they’ve possibly brought danger.
“Someone’s following you?” I confirm, removing my hand from his slender arm.
The thin leather jacket he wears crinkles in the cold as I let him go, and I frown a bit.
Despite the hood on his head, he’s definitely not dressed warmly enough for this winter we’re having.
Forget having a meltdown, he’s seconds away from bone-deep shivers and blue lips from the frost that clings to every breath we take.
“Yes,” he whispers, voice shaky. “I think so.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure. I thought I saw someone behind me, and when I turned down the alley, I could have sworn there were footsteps. I just… knew I was being followed.”
“Did you piss someone off or something? Make an enemy, maybe?” I ask, stepping slightly closer to him as I stand on tiptoes to peer over the fence.
It’s quiet out there, as far as I can see.
Nobody appears to be around, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t hiding in one of the dark spaces of the alleyway, waiting for him to come out.
“Enemies? No. Not that I… no. I don’t think so.”
A stranger, then. Clearly someone who scared him more than the idea of following me back to this isolated yard behind an abandoned building.
It doesn’t usually happen that I’m the one who is looked at as safety by people I don’t know.
At my six-three height, I tower over most people, and compared to this man with the knife, I’m a giant.
He’s gotta be at least a foot shorter than me, give or take a few inches.
“You may have scared them off when you pulled that thing outta wherever you had it hidden.” I gesture at the knife in his hand.
It’s thick and long, with a wicked-looking serrated edge to it.
If he wanted to, he could do some serious damage with that thing.
“I’m pretty new here, and back home all the boys have pocket knives they carry in pouches on their belts for cutting rope and shit, but that ain’t no little pocket knife I see in your hand.
I’d definitely run away if you came at me with that thing. ”
“Would you?” he asks, turning the knife over in his hand, the blade glistening in the moonlight.
“I sure as shit would. What are you doing with such a big knife on you anyway? Out for a leisurely stab and stroll in the dark?” I laugh at my joke, a bit nervously in spite of the fact that I know I could take him if he tried anything.
I’m not a violent person by nature, but if provoked, I’ve been known to punch a face or two.
Usually on the ice, and in very rare circumstances, given that goalies don’t often have the opportunity to get into scraps during a game.
He laughs softly. “Personal protection. You never know what danger might be lurking in the darkness.”
Yet instead of threatening whoever was following him, he chose to seek me out and ask for my help.
Interesting.
Then again, just because you have a weapon that looks like it could cut a man wide open with a single flick of the wrist, that doesn’t mean it’s an easy choice to actually use it.
“Fair enough,” I comment, glancing up and down the alleyway again, beyond the small fenced yard.
When I’m satisfied that we’re at least visibly alone back here, I lower down onto my feet and finally get a decent look at this stranger’s face poking out from beneath the hood he wears.
Moonlight spills across his cheekbones as he tilts his head upward, his gray eyes scanning my face carefully like he’s counting every single freckle that sits on my skin.
His lips part as his eyes meet mine, a soft breath escaping from within his lungs to linger in the cold air between us.
He’s smaller than me, as nearly everyone is, but there’s a sharpness to the set of his jaw that speaks more to edges than soft curves.
Fascinating.
“I think whoever was behind you is definitely long gone,” I offer, as he continues looking intensely into my eyes. “Do you live nearby? Can I walk you home so you get there safe and sound?”
“No. I… I don’t really…” He trails off, glancing between my face and the area around us. I grin because I know that look. I’ve probably had that same look on my own face more times than I can count since I landed in Boston.
“Oh dude, understood. No worries. I got lost all the time when I first moved here. Still do sometimes. It’s a lot bigger than Bow Island, Alberta, right?”
He nods in agreement, though I doubt he’s ever been somewhere quite like the tiny town tucked deep into the Canadian prairies I grew up in.
Bow Island is a weird little place, full of farmland, cowboys, and hockey players.
There’s no actual body of water nearby, and its sole claim to fame is Pinto McBean, a giant statue shaped like an anthropomorphic pinto bean with cowboy boots and a cowboy hat.
It doesn’t exactly scream palm trees and coconuts, that’s for sure.
“Are you lost?” I ask, just to confirm what I think I already know.
He leaps at those words like I’ve just given him some sort of lifeline to cling to. “Yes. Definitely lost. That’s probably why I got so spooked.” He bites his lip and looks me up and down. “I’m new here too. You’re from Canada?”
“Sure am. Here to play hockey for the Snakes. Where are you from?”
He hesitates for a moment like he isn’t sure he wants to answer, eyes meeting mine again with that same intense stare. Understandable. I am a stranger to him even if we are both in the same boat of being new to the area. Finally, just when I’d given up on getting an answer, he speaks. “California.”
Sunshine and beaches. No wonder he looks cold if that’s what he’s used to.
Shit, his hometown is probably closer to an island than my terribly named one is.
“Alright then, California. We should get out of here. Find somewhere with more people, maybe? Or at least some brighter overhead lights. There’s a diner nearby.
We can pop in, grab something warm to drink, and find out the route to get to your place from there.
” It’s pretty close to what I’d do on any other night without this new company I’ve found.
I usually hang out here for a bit, unpacking all my frustrations about the game before heading to Salvatori’s Place a half block over.
Though they have a bunch of seemingly healthier foods to snack on, their sugar donuts are killer, and my stomach growls just thinking about them.
Yeah, I definitely need to eat, and the diner seems a hell of a lot better right now than this abandoned yard.
“Okay?” he says, but it sounds more like a question than an agreement.
“Danger lurks in the darkness, right?”
“You’re in the darkness,” he points out, and I swear I catch a hint of a smile in his tone.
“Who’s to say I’m not the danger?” I ask, offering a wink. “You could be in serious shit back here with me.”
He snorts out a soft laugh. “You haven’t considered that maybe I’m the real danger here?”
I let loose a laugh of my own as he tucks his knife into his pocket. There isn’t much that’s intimidating about him, especially now with that blade out of his hand. “Come on, California. Let’s go get something to eat.”
“Shiloh.”
“Shiloh,” I repeat, his name as soft as his voice as it leaves my mouth.
“I’m Donovan, but everyone here calls me Donny.
” A fact I despise but can’t be bothered to correct every single time it happens.
Which is a lot of fucking times. Whether I like it or not, hockey players always seem to collect shitty nicknames, and it seems like here, mine is Donny.
Could be worse, I suppose. The last name of one of my teammates is Buttrill and everyone calls him Buttsy.
“No.” He wrinkles his nose. “Not Donny. Donovan,” he whispers, tilting his head to the side as he scrutinizes my face carefully. “It’s perfect for you.”
I don’t really know how to respond to that, but something inside me warms up a bit as he offers me a small smile.
Nodding his way, I head for the loose board in the fence and poke my head through.
I do a quick scan of the surrounding alley, just in case someone is lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce, but find nothing that looks super dangerous.
“Looks good to me,” I comment, turning back to catch a small grin on his lips.
He nods and I make my way through the fence first, holding the loose board in place so he can crawl through after me. As silent as a cat, he slips through the hole and moves to stand alongside me in the dim moonlight.
“Where’s the diner?” he asks, looking past me out to the street beyond the alley.
“Just over there,” I comment, pointing in the direction we’ll need to go.
The streets are bright outside the mouth of the alley, the overhead lights glimmering on the snow that covers the sidewalks.
It’s like a different world out there, and I find myself drawn toward it instead of being pushed away.
Having company helps, I suppose. “It’s not a long walk, we’ll be out of this cold soon enough. Stick close, okay?”
Shiloh doesn’t respond.
When I turn to look at him, he isn’t there.
“Shiloh?” I call out, looking around the darkened alleyway. “Hey? Where’d you go?”
No response.
I call his name a couple more times, but he doesn’t appear. He’s not hiding in any of the darkened corners of the alley, and when I peek back into the yard by the abandoned building, I don’t find him in there either.
He’s gone.
And when I reach for my back pocket, I realize my wallet and my keys are also gone.
Fuck my life.