Chapter 4 Tanner
Tanner
He’d always been a sucker for Avery Delgado.
Tanner remembered passing her on the sidewalk in town, several months after their collision in the school hallway.
“Hey, Stretch.”
Avery’s eyes were the palest of blue, framed by an indigo rim.
She’d studied him carefully, a calm unveiled slide that held more honesty than when she was in the company of others.
And the crashing waves of energy and jumbled thoughts inside Tanner had sighed and settled; the noise quieted. It was the damnedest feeling.
“Stretch?” She’d raised an eyebrow, and he’d gestured to his left foot, where the hair tie she’d given him had held his ruined sneaker together.
His latest pair were in better shape so far but not by much.
“You were right—it had good stretch. Lasted nearly a month.”
Avery slipped an identical one from her wrist and held it out. “Might as well have a spare, just in case. Those look like they’re going the same way.”
There was no censure in her tone and that had surprised him, coming from the daughter of the local mayor, the girl who breezed through school with her small following of influential disciples.
Avery’s friends back then had included the principal’s daughter, the niece of Chief Roberts, and a handful of girls whose dads were big noises in the business guild. For all Tanner knew, she was still in touch with them now, although he couldn’t see them here.
Her family name had clout.
His had none.
It made what she’d done for him even more extraordinary, and he’d never forgotten it.
“I’m talking to you!”
Tanner was wrenched from his thoughts by Savannah flicking his ear.
“Come with me. I want to introduce you around,” his cousin urged and, more than ready for a distraction, he let himself be led away from Avery’s circle.
As it turned out, the Bach Bash group was rowdy but fun.
When the sun eventually dipped, the majority of guests headed outside to gather around a firepit where Savannah produced the necessary ingredients for s’mores like a rabbit from a hat.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the bar, Tanner followed along, his mouth already watering in anticipation of the sugar rush.
He tried not to search Avery out but failed miserably.
Elbow to elbow with Kash, her hair flashed like flames in the evening sun, and when Sam’s partner lost the marshmallow from his stick to the fire, her throaty giggle was infectious.
Unaccountably envious that she’d given this first free burst of laughter to someone else, Tanner forced himself to maintain a healthy distance.
Maybe if he’d managed to find his voice inside the clubhouse, he could have said something more to break the ice. He had game, for fuck’s sake. Where had it gone?
“I refuse to believe that Kash has done you dirty already.”
“Huh?” With a grunt, Tanner turned to find Sam at his shoulder.
“Or maybe it’s not him you’re scowling at.” Sam ran a thoughtful hand over his jaw.
“No, it is him,” Tanner said, taking a casual swig from his bottle of water. “I was wondering what he sees in a goof-off like you.”
“So many things—I couldn’t possibly list them all.” Sam gave a lazy grin. “But mainly he loves me for my brains and good looks.”
“And self-effacing humility, too, I guess.”
“Says the King of the Ice. Your modesty is the first thing to come across in interviews. You really need to work on your confidence.” Sam grabbed the bottle from Tanner’s hand and drained it in a couple mouthfuls. “I’ve missed you, bro. It’s going to be good to have you home.”
“’Bout time, I guess. I’m looking forward to it, too,” he said.
“You must need extra closet space for all the team jerseys you’ve had over the years.”
“There’ve been a few.” More than a few. The turnover of teams, cities, and states had been exciting, exhilarating. Exhausting.
“Found somewhere to live yet?” Sam asked.
Tanner shook his head. Arlo, a college buddy who fulfilled the role of both manager and financial advisor, had sent him a few possible properties but he’d put off looking at them. There was just too much still up in the air. “There are people who’ll sort that out for me once I know I’m staying.”
Sam held a hand to his chest in a gesture of deep, mortal offense. “You don’t need ‘people,’ jackass. You have me. I’m your people.”
Tanner grinned. “Well, get on it then and earn your realtor’s fee. I’d rather give you the money anyway.”
“Already done.” Sam looked smug. “I know just the place. I’ll show you next week.”
Kash parted from Avery and strolled over, bearing a gooey mess on a paper plate that he pushed into Sam’s hands. “One for you. But mind, it’s—”
“Fuck! That’s hot!” Sam’s eyes watered as he tried to extract the molten mouthful from his lips.
“Yeah, that’s what I was going to say.” Kash’s voice was threaded with laughter. “Jeez-o-Pete, I can’t take you anywhere.”
Tanner wasn’t listening, his eyes tracking Avery as she peeled away from the group and headed for the lakeside.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Without waiting for a reply, he headed into the clubhouse to grab another couple of drinks, flipping Sam off over his shoulder for the knowing snigger he caught as he left.
She must have heard his footfalls on the wooden jetty—he wasn’t anywhere near as stealthy on land as he was on the ice—but Avery kept her eyes fixed on the water in the slowly dimming light.
Totally still, she was calm solitude in human form.
It was something he’d been fascinated by at school—how she could appear so composed, even surrounded by people.
He’d sometimes had the crazy thought that, if he rubbed himself all over her, some of Avery’s poise would stick to him and seep into his bones.
But he’d never gotten anywhere near to trying.
“Thought you might need something to wash away the charcoal.” Lowering himself to the ground, Tanner passed her a bottle of water.
“It’s not a proper s’more without a little ash.”
He felt the low rasp of her voice like cool fingers down his spine. Peeling the label off his bottle, he screwed it up in his fist. “I went to a charity bash a while ago where they served savory s’mores. Salami, soft cheese, and olives. Not a hint of ash.”
“Those aren’t s’mores.” Avery’s sniff was laden with disapproval. “They’re a crime against humanity.”
The chatter from the Bach Bash, muffled and distant, became a backing track to the top branches twisting in the breeze, the waves lapping around the jetty posts, and the occasional mew of a gray catbird.
Peace washed off the lake like steam from a bowl of soup.
Tanner wished he could enjoy it, but his insides were all knotted and he didn’t really know why.
Flicking loose leaves and slivers of wood into the water, he cursed himself for the empty void where he usually stored his easy charm.
“It’s so pretty here. Should be a nice weekend,” Avery said eventually, and he made a noise of agreement.
It was going to be something, that was for sure. Whether he’d choose the word “nice” was up for debate.
She wrapped her arms around her knees as if she was cold, and Tanner almost moved a little closer—not so close they were touching but close enough that some of his warmth might make the leap from his body to hers—but he caught himself just in time.
Avery cleared her throat. “How’s your family?”
Small talk. He could manage that. “They’re all good, thanks. Dex is working in the UK. He turned into a nerd—I don’t even understand what he does. It’s something to do with designing software for security systems. Reid just started up a microbrewery in Traverse City.”
He felt more than saw her nod. “I bumped into your mom in the diner a while back. She looked well.”
“Yeah, she’s great. Moving house made a big difference to her lungs and she takes her fitness pretty seriously now.”
Getting his mom out of the shithole he’d grown up in had been his first priority.
Although money couldn’t buy good health, it was everything when it came to preventable illness.
His mother’s wheezing, whistling cough had woven through his childhood, filtering out from beneath her bedroom door with each fresh bout of bronchitis.
And it was one of the reasons Tanner’s bum shoulder scared the crap out of him.
There was too much riding on his earning power to allow any physical weakness to put him out of action.
His left hand rising unconsciously to prod at the joint in question, he said, “She started dating again. Henry’s a nice guy.”
Avery’s smile teased him with its brevity. “I heard that. He teaches at PS High, right? Leo’s there, too—ninth grade.”
“Yeah. He moved into town a couple years ago.” There was another momentary silence. “How are your parents?” Tanner hesitated before asking, but it would have been a glaring omission to avoid the question.
She gazed out across the water. “They’re fine.”
“Your dad and Principal Harris still . . . together?”
Avery gave a tight nod and Tanner wouldn’t have pressed any further if he’d been held at gunpoint. His knee bounced, his fingers tapped. Her sigh, softer than a whisper, escaped into the evening air.
“I’d better get back to the others. They’ll be wondering where I am.” Her voice was distant, a little stilted.
Stay a bit longer, Tanner wanted to say. I have so many questions. Does this feel as weird for you as it does for me? And why is that?
“Have you been dating Johnnie long?” he asked instead.
Avery’s smile as she climbed to her feet was a glossy copy of her natural one. “We went out a couple times because he works with Drew and it was fun to hang as a foursome, but we’re not together. I don’t do commitment.”
She turned to walk back along the jetty before Tanner could form a follow-up to her statement. Though he felt no impatience to return to the clubhouse, he stood up and fell in by her side.
“I’ve seen photos of you and your girlfriend online. She’s very pretty,” Avery said, sliding the charm on her necklace back and forth. “Will she be coming to the wedding?”
“Unlikely.” Tanner’s feet sank into the sand as they stepped off the jetty. “We’ve just split up.”
She looked at him then, pale irises glittering in the half-light. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t want to think about Lily. “It’s no big deal.”
“I’m sure the NHL’s very own ‘Ace Face’ isn’t short of offers.”
Tanner smirked to hide the sharp tug of embarrassment. “You saw that headline?”
“And a handful of others.”
“At least I get nicknames suitable for a sporting god now. Sam called me Doink for three years straight at school because our doorbell at home didn’t ring properly.”
“Nothing like old friends for keeping you grounded.” Avery’s mouth ticked up at one corner. “You’re still close then—you and Sam?”
“I haven’t seen enough of him recently but I’m hoping that’s going to change now.”
“Why now?” she asked and, when a few fiery strands of hair caught on the outside edge of her lashes, she pushed them away with delicate fingers.
He’d remembered her as far shorter than she was. In reality, the top of Avery’s head sat level with Tanner’s nose. He’d be able to press his lips to her forehead just by ducking his chin if he cared to. The thought did nothing for his focus.
“Uh . . .” Clearing his throat, Tanner looked away. “I’m signing with the Rapids. I’m moving back. Haven’t you heard?”
Her small start told him she hadn’t, and Avery’s teeth caught on her lower lip.
When her eyes searched his face, the pupils were tight dots in a sea of blue.
Tanner examined her tiny gold nose ring, the spray of freckles over her cheekbones.
The freckles had always been there; the piercing was new.
He frowned at this proof of time gone by. She frowned at his frown.
“Where did you get to? I’ve been looking for you.” Bel’s call shattered their silent conversation as she approached them from the firepit area.
“Just talking tactics with my teammate.” Avery jerked a thumb in Tanner’s direction. “Tricks and treachery. That kind of thing.”
“I’m so proud.” Bel curled an arm around Avery’s waist. “I like to think my scheming is a legacy that keeps on giving.”
Outside the clubhouse, Leo Marsh and Avery’s friend with the light brown hair loitered on a bench.
Both turned speculative eyes toward him as Tanner drew closer.
His memories of Marsh at school were vague because he’d been in the same grade as Avery—one below Tanner’s own—and talented at music rather than sports.
In Tanner’s experience, the two didn’t really mix.
But he did remember Marsh had been smart. Way smarter than him.
His own schooldays had been filled with the stifling pressure to study and focus, the possibility of losing out on his college scholarship an ever-present specter lurking on every page.
It taunted him each time Tanner opened his books, laughing at the grades that held him back as he tried to keep his head down and his GPA up.
He knew his NHL dreams would scatter like smoke if he didn’t.
“You’re not helping yourself with all these careless mistakes.”
“Have you tried being more organized?”
“If you’d take your studies seriously and pay attention, your grades wouldn’t be such a concern.”
He’d heard it all from his teachers. As if any of their comments were the least bit helpful.
He could still taste the frustration that came with being so easily distracted, the embarrassment of not being able to absorb and remember stuff everyone else found simple.
The extra pressure had just made everything a hundred times worse.
On the ice, focus wasn’t an issue. Skating was instinct and pure joy combined.
Thinking, planning, studying—that had taken everything he had. He’d needed the scholarship so badly.
Tanner rubbed a weary hand over his face.
His head was heavy, his eyes gritty. It was around 3 a.m. UK time now and he hadn’t slept well last night after napping on the plane.
With the familiar effects of jetlag kicking in like a bitch, he decided against following Avery into the clubhouse and made his excuses instead.
Thirty-five minutes later, stretched out in a bed just a bit too short, Tanner folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, chasing sleep that was now elusive.
He’d earned more money than he’d ever dreamed of and traveled the world in style when he had the time, but this weekend was stirring up issues he thought he’d dealt with. Insecurities that weren’t welcome.
Because, much as he might try to forget it, he owed his success to the auburn-haired woman who still drew him in like iron filings to a magnet. And that debt was weighing heavy on his battered shoulders.