Chapter 3 Erin
Bella and I make our way from the bar to an empty high-round table. We slide onto the stools, using the metal bars attached to the base to help hoist ourselves up.
Bella takes a sip of her Caribbean-colored cocktail. I’ve gone for a Shirley Temple.
“I’m so proud of you for coming tonight,” Bella says before flashing a grin so wide that I can see all her teeth. “Mom and Dad would be, too.” Her voice catches, and as I look at her, not only do I see the older sister who took care of me, but our mom, Jenna Silver.
“They’d be so proud of you, too,” I say, resting my hand over hers. “I’m sorry Mom and Dad aren’t here to meet Brodie. I’ll do my best to honor them when he shows up. I’ll welcome him with open arms like Mom always did—and threaten him six ways to Sunday like Dad.”
Bella chokes on her drink. “You couldn’t frighten a sloth.”
I give her a grin and just shrug. “It’s the thought that counts,” I say.
Suddenly, a breeze sweeps in, and I’m immersed in the feeling of being in the middle of the woods on an early morning, taking in that first breath of fresh air as I begin my hike on a woodland trail.
A tall body emerges behind me, filling my peripheral vision. His back dominates my view. HARPER 87 stretches across his jersey, broad shoulders moving with easy confidence. He drifts across the bar and returns to a table a few feet from ours.
My breath hitches when he takes his seat and turns to face me.
Good Lord.
Ocean blue eyes and a sharp jaw framed by high cheekbones come into focus.
That mahogany hair looks as though it’s used to fingers running through it all the time.
There’s not a lick of gel or hairspray in it, and yet it screams perfection, as if with one simple flick of his head he’s ready to serenade the ladies.
His jersey clings to his muscles that he very obviously earned from endless hours on the ice. The different shades of blue and gray on the fabric complement his olive skin tone.
Without a shadow of a doubt, Hockey Boy is a ten.
Fingers snap in my face, and my head shifts to the right to find Bella’s grin—mischievous and unmissable.
“It’s lucky you said you can have a conversation.”
“W-What?” I splutter out.
“You were looking at him. And I totally get why.”
“I was not,” I say quickly as I reach out for my drink and hope its coolness will soothe my flaming skin, but Bella’s words put me on high alert.
I am not my mother.
I am not my mother.
I am not my mother.
“It’s okay to want things, Erin. It’s okay to be drawn to someone who’s attractive. It doesn’t make you like her,” Bella says gently, and I know what she’s doing. She’s challenging me while reminding me all is well. It’s exactly what I need.
“If I admit he’s attractive, can we stop talking about it?”
“Or…maybe you could just say hi?”
“Yeah, because a guy like that definitely wants to be friends with a girl like me,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“And what’s wrong with a girl like you?” Bella asks, amused.
“Well, for starters, I don’t think any of the girls here brought a book with them,” I say casually.
“You didn’t.” She laughs, shaking her head.
I reach into my bag on the table and pull out a paperback.
“Baby sister, you are one of a kind.”
Her phone dings on the table, and she picks it up quickly. Her face lights up. I guess that means Brodie’s here.
“He’s out back and says he has a surprise for me in his car. Do you want to come with me?” Bella asks as she hops off the stool.
“You go. I can keep myself entertained,” I say, lifting the book up to her.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you alone and uncomfortable.”
“I’ll be alright.”
Bella takes off for the entrance behind me. I open my book to where my bookmark is and let myself get lost in the pages of a cowboy romance, forgetting the world around me.
By the time I’ve finished my drink, I’m in desperate need of a bathroom.
Bella still hasn’t come back yet. I don’t know how long it’s been. I wasn’t really keeping track of time, but I’m a fast reader, so I don’t think it’s been that long.
I lean back on my seat and find that most people are at the bar. I jump off the stool and maneuver my way through the small crowd of hockey players who are lost in their own world and talking among each other.
I make it to the other side of the bar and slip around the corner to head for the bathroom.
I wash my hands once I’m done and dry them with a paper towel before I exit.
When I get to the corner, I freeze.
The bar looks fuller than it was a few minutes ago. My hands go clammy as I take in all the people, their bodies close together with drinks in their hands, laughter erupting from them as they greet one another with handshakes and back slaps.
I back away, giving myself a little space and time to process what I’m seeing.
“Do you think he’ll be back for the upcoming season?” A deep voice asks from behind me. I turn my head to find two guys standing off to the side near the bathroom doors, talking to each other.
“I have no clue, but I respect the hell out of him,” the other man says, surprise creeping into his voice. “If I were in his shoes, I’d struggle to get out of bed after what happened between Jack and Elliot.”
The first guy hums in agreement. “He’s one hell of a player. His team could continue to play without him, but it shows they were missing that special sauce when they were eliminated before the playoffs. Harper’s a beast on the ice. It would be a loss for sure if he doesn’t return.”
Not wanting to get caught listening to their conversation, I move away from the wall and cross the establishment to get back to my table.
I keep my head down and sprint, a girl on a mission. I’m almost there, my paperback a beacon calling out to me.
And then… I’m walking into a wall of muscle before falling back on my ass.
Ouch.
A body drops beside me instantly, but the person doesn’t say anything straight away.
“I’m so sorry,” he says in a rush. “I didn’t see you. Are you alright?” His voice is smooth and velvety. A delightful surprise that makes me think about reaching into a box of chocolates.
I turn my head to look at him and go still at the person crouched in front of me.
Ocean eyes.
Sharp jaw.
High cheekbones.
Mahogany hair.
Blue jersey.
Woodland trail scent.
It’s him.
Eighty-Seven.
My pulse jumps, my body snapping to attention.
I am not my mother.
I am not my mother.
I am not my mother.
“Miss? Are you okay?” his rich voice asks me again.
I blink up at him, momentarily dazed.
“I’m gonna help you up. Is that okay?” he asks, his voice gentle.
My eyes track his hands lifting with careful intention, but he doesn’t reach for my arms, or any part of my body. He keeps them where I can see them, as if he’s waiting for me to give him permission.
I nod.
His hand folds around mine, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. In one smooth movement, he lifts me up as he rises onto his feet, and we’re both upright.
I have to tilt my head back to look at him because of how tall he is. My head doesn’t even reach his shoulder. I’m standing in the shadow of a giant.
A really, really handsome giant.
My eyes flutter, caught off guard by what just happened. His hand, his touch—it’s all too new. Too close to the kind of thing I’ve avoided for so long. I can’t deny the molten rush that spreads through me. It’s not what I expected, but somehow, it feels right.
He swipes the sealed water bottle off the table and hands it to me after he twists the cap off.
I take it with gratitude. “Thanks, Eighty-Seven,” I murmur after taking a sip.
The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “She speaks.”
His eyes linger on my face a second too long, and warmth spreads up my neck. I take another swig from the bottle, hoping the flush doesn’t reach my face, and clear my throat, desperately trying to pull my gaze away from his.
“S-Sorry,” I stammer, embarrassed for calling him that. And then I apologize again for the other thing. “Sorry for not paying attention to my surroundings.”
He shakes his head. “It was my fault. I stepped out in front of you.” His voice is reassuring, and his politeness turns my stomach—a feeling that’s unknown to me. And the unknown is not a place I want to be.
I am not my mother.
I am not my mother.
I am not my mother.
“Did you come here with someone?” he asks.
“M-My sister. Bella.”
“You’re Erin.”
“You know my sister?” I ask.
“She’s dating my best friend.”
“Brodie,” I say as it clicks.
He sticks out his hand to introduce himself. The jersey clings to his arms, the number on his sleeve stretching over his biceps.
I internally scold myself for checking him out, because I shouldn’t be looking at all.
“Hey, I’m Chase,” he says with a welcoming tone.
My fingers twitch at my sides.
He’s just a guy.
I can do this.
It’s just a handshake.
I can have a conversation.
It doesn’t make me like her.
My hand starts to move, and then a loud noise sounds from behind him. He turns to face it, and I become very aware of what I’m doing.
This isn’t who I am. I can’t be my mother.
I can’t.
Luck appears to be on my side because I have a clear path to the exit. My quick footsteps carry me in the direction of the door, and I throw it open, only to find Bella on the other side reaching for the handle, a guy beside her.
“Are you okay?” she asks immediately, concern shadowing her face.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, to reassure her. “It just got really busy in there. I wanted some air.”
“I’ll wait with you,” Bella says.
I step out into the cold air, and the tension inside of me begins to ease with each breath.
“Oh, and this is Brodie,” she says, gesturing to him.
“Hey, Erin, it’s nice to finally meet. I’ve heard a lot about you, from this one,” he says, easy and relaxed. He’s quite tall, definitely around six feet, but shorter than Eighty-Seven.
His eyes are similar to a husky but on the grayer side. His black hair falls longer on the top, the sides neat and freshly trimmed. His tan hints at time spent outdoors—natural, unforced, real.
I notice how he makes no move to head inside, as if he’s happy here, waiting with us.
“Hi, Brodie,” I say, giving him a quick wave. I take a deep breath and muster all the courage inside me that I can. “Hopefully, we can get to know each other a little better. But if you hurt my sister, I’ll crush you.”
Brodie and Bella double over in laughter.
My lips twitch.
I tried.
“I’m looking forward to getting to know you more, too. We’ll work on your threats, Little Silver.” He sticks out his hand. I’m slow to reach out at first, but I finally do it. I place my hand in his and shake it. Once, then twice.
Bella beams with pride and covers her lips with her fingertips.
It’s a simple greeting. A few words exchanged and a handshake, but I know she knows it runs deeper than that for me. To have her look at me that way makes it feel as though she’s saying, “I’m proud of you. You did it. Great job, baby sister.”
“We can go back inside now,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“Are you sure?” Bella asks. “We can have a girl’s night if you want?”
I look over at Brodie, who’s watching Bella with the kind of admiration that says she hung the moon, even though she’s talking about leaving.
“Bella said this event is important to you,” I say, pausing for a moment.
Brodie looks at me, his eyes filled with kindness. “Our friend Jack—we lost him last year. This night is to celebrate him.”
“I’m ready.”
Bella loops her arm around mine, and then we head for the door, entering the bar.