4. Keira
CHAPTER 4
KEIRA
What am I doing ?!
I mean, sure, I got the fright of my life when I looked up from my book, mid-bite of my cinnamon roll, to see Dan Roberts standing in front of me, chatting with the moms as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. Because of course he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s a famous and wealthy NHL star. He’s got it made. And he’s looking shockingly good, with his dark hair kind of messed up but sexy, his tan skin glowing as though he just stepped off the beach. His jacket is open, revealing a white T-shirt that more than hints at the muscular torso beneath. He looks effortlessly hot in that unattainable, famous person way, like he’s from another planet, simply visiting us mere mortals here on Earth.
So, what did I do? I panicked. Big time.
I knew it was only seconds before he would look up and clock me. I also knew that I had successfully managed to dodge the guy every time he visited town for the past ten years, and I needed to keep that record for my sanity.
So, I did what every self-respecting, twenty-seven-year-old woman would do: I dropped to the floor and pretended like I wasn’t there, clutching my half-eaten cinnamon roll to my chest as though it was Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak.
Sadly for me, it’s just a cinnamon roll.
I know, I know! Not my best move. But needs must, people! I had to get out of there without him seeing me, and with no exit in sight for me to slink out of undetected, I did what I had to do.
The fact that not only did it not work—thank you, Nell—but now I can feel the eyes of the one person I wanted to hide from boring into me like lasers, just adds to my utter humiliation.
Gingerly, I lift the hood that’s covering my eyes a fraction, only to see Dan towering over me as he takes in this prostrate woman, bizarrely lying on the hard floor, heating it up with her own mortification.
Nell must realize that she messed up because she says, “She’s fine, Dan. I think she just dropped a contact.”
A contact. Yes! I’m looking for my contact. That’s a totally plausible explanation for why I am where I am.
“But she’s lying down, flat on her back,” I hear Caroline say. “She doesn’t seem to be looking for anything. Just … resting. Which is beyond weird. Keira? Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not having a fit or something, are you?”
“She’s not epileptic.”
“People can become epileptic, you know. It happened to my cousin’s friend when she was about fourteen.”
Note to self: sit farther away from Caroline and the rest of the moms next time I bump into an ex I’ve been hiding from for ten years.
Not that I hope ever to repeat this particular scenario.
Dan clears his throat. “Can I help look for your contact, miss?”
He called me miss? Phew! He doesn’t know who I am.
“No, thank you,” I reply, purposely making my voice a little lower so he doesn’t catch on to who I am. “I’ve got it covered, sir.”
Benny giggles before he squats down beside me and pokes me in the ribs.
So not helpful.
“Are you sure? Because from where I’m standing, you look more like you’re simply lying down than looking for anything,” Dan replies, and I’m certain I catch a note of amusement in his voice.
“Yup. Totally sure. Bye now,” I say, waving my hand.
Benny giggles and pokes my ribs some more.
After a beat, I lift my hood a fraction only to see Dan is still standing there, only now he’s reaching for my open book on the bleacher and picking it up.
Why doesn’t he leave? Can he just chalk this experience up to some crazy woman who thought it best to search for her dropped contact by lying on her back?
But no. He’s still here, and now he’s got my book.
Wonderful.
“I always felt bad for Edgar in this book. He had a rough ride,” he says.
If Dan knows it’s me lying here, he’ll know that I’m itching to offer my opinion. It’s Heathcliff who had a rough ride in Wuthering Heights , not so much Edgar, even though, of course, the fact that Cathy married him without really loving him wasn’t exactly great for him. But I’m not about to admit that to Dan right now .
It takes all my strength not to respond.
“Here. Let me help you up,” he says, offering me an outstretched hand. “Kiki,” he adds, and my face goes from burning hot to positively nuclear.
I know the game’s up. I’ve been caught by my ex, trying—and failing—to hide from him.
I let out a defeated sigh before I bend my knees and take his hand, allowing him to pull me to my feet, my hood slipping off to reveal my true identity.
“Thanks,” I say breezily, as though this kind of thing happens every day. “Oh, Dan. I didn’t realize it was you.”
We both know it’s a bald-faced lie, but he has the good grace not to call me out on it.
“I didn’t know it was you, either,” he replies with a quirk of his lips. “Although the book was a bit of a giveaway. You always loved Wuthering Heights .”
“It could have been anyone. A lot of people like that book, you know.”
“Sure,” he replies, those lips of his pulling into a fully blown smile.
Of course he thinks this is funny. He’s just found me trying to hide from him like I’m a four-year-old at the playground, making the assumption that if I can’t see anyone then they can’t see me, either.
By now the blood in my veins has been replaced with liquid humiliation.
“That looks tasty,” he says, gesturing at my hand.
I look down at the half-eaten cinnamon roll. “It’s from Maple Grounds. You know, the bakery on Maple Road?”
“I remember it,” he says softly, his eyes so intense, I swear they can read my thoughts. “It’s good to see you, Kiki.”
“It’s … good to see you, too.” I do my best to pull my lips into a brief smile, my heart beating like a frenetic drum.
I just know the eyes of every member of the Mom Squad are sliding between the two of us, hanging on every word we say. They’ll be wondering why I tried my best to hide from Dan, probably putting two and two together. Some of them might even remember that we dated back in high school.
“You two dated, right?” Caroline says, as though reading my mind. “Back in the day? I was only a few years ahead of you both at high school, but we all knew about it. The bookworm and the jock.”
“That’s right!” Brooke, one of the other Mom Squad members says. “I’d forgotten about that. This must be some kind of reunion of sorts for you two, right?”
“I guess it is,” Dan replies with a smile. “We’ve not seen each other since—” his eyes alight on mine. “When was it?”
“Let me think.” I scratch my chin as though I’m searching my mind. But of course, I know exactly when it was. It’s etched in my mind along with Dan’s dimples, the touch of his skin, the feel of his lips on mine.
I clear my throat. “It was the end of summer after our senior year.”
The memories of that last summer are seared into my soul. The time we spent up at the lake with a gang of friends, all of us on the precipice of adulthood, our future lives unfolding before us in a stretch that felt like it would last forever.
And then we broke up. It was the night before Dan was due to leave for Yale. We’d talked about breaking up. Neither of us wanted to do it, but we knew it was for the best. We said we would always be each other’s first love, and at the time, that felt good enough.
But the following morning, standing outside the Roberts’ family home, watching Dan’s dad back down the driveway with Dan in the passenger seat, his eyes trained on mine, I had wanted to make the car stop. To tell him not to go, that we could work it out and do the long-distance thing.
That I could never imagine loving anyone else the way I loved him .
But I didn’t do anything. I simply stood there beside his mom and his brother and sister, waving and smiling as though this was all part of life’s great plan, and that I would move on to bigger and better things, always with a soft spot for my high school sweetheart.
Yeah. What did I know? Not a lot, as it turns out.
There was no other love. Dan was it. Period.
And I let him go.
“Dan the Man. It’s so good you’re back home where you belong,” Caroline says and I shoot her a look, knowing she’s stirring the pot.
She smirks at me.
Benny’s eyes grow to twice their normal size when he takes Dan in. “You’re him? You play for the Chicago Blizzard! You’re the best!”
Dan smiles at him. “Sure am. And who are you?”
“I’m Benny,” he replies as he takes a hold of my hand, gazing up at this 6′5″ giant.
It’s as though I can see Dan’s thoughts flit across his face as I watch him. He’s trying to work out where Benny fits into my life. Is he my son? My nephew? Am I babysitting? Why am I here watching a figure skating class with the Mom Squad?
His eyes flick to my left hand and I just know he’s searching for a ring.
So, he thinks I’m married with kids. Part of me wants to put him straight, tell him that Benny and his sister out on the ice are both Clara’s kids. Another part of me—the less rational part that thinks it’s a good idea to hide on the floor of the arena—wants to pretend they’re mine, that I did move on from him and have married the great love of my life, producing two beautiful children with him.
But this is Maple Falls, a small town fueled by two things: the lumber mill and gossip. I might not be the one to tell him I’m not a happily married mom of two, but someone else will before too long .
“Hi there, Benny,” Dan says, bending down closer to Benny’s height, which is a long way down for a super tall guy like Dan. “It’s great to meet you.”
“Did you know you’re called ‘Dan the Man’?” Benny asks with his gap-toothed grin.
“I did, yes,” he replies.
“My mom says you’re a hometown hero.”
His eyes flick to mine. “Does she now?”
Ha! That less rational part of my brain does a little dance.
“Does that mean you’re like Spiderman?” Benny asks, and some of the Mom Squad laugh at his adorableness.
“I think Spiderman is way cooler than me,” Dan replies.
Benny shakes his head. “Nah-ah. Spiderman would be dumb on skates.”
Dan chuckles. “I think you’re right, but between you and me, I’m not sure my web slinging apparatus is quite up to scratch.”
His eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. “You have web slinging appa-batus? You’re so cool!” He looks up at me, his eyes shining bright. “Dan the Man is a superhero?”
“Of course he’s not, honey. He’s just messing with you,” I say, feeling weirdly touched by the effort Dan is making with the kid he currently thinks is mine.
He shrugs. “It’s true. I’m just a regular guy. Tell me, Benny, do you skate?”
He shakes his head. “I want to be a famous hockey player, just like you. But I’m not allowed.” He looks up at me with a mournful look on his face—the one he gives me anytime ice hockey is mentioned—as though I’m the one standing in the way of his NHL hockey career.
“How old are you?” Dan asks.
“I’m six and two halves,” he replies.
“Six and one half, Benny and the Jets,” I correct gently.
“Six and a half is old enough to start learning how to play hockey. You could put him in a Learn to Skate program,” Dan suggests, not helping at all .
But then how could he know that we can’t afford for Benny to learn how to play?
“See? I told you,” Benny complains to me, and I purse my lips.
Finally, Dan reads the proverbial room. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks me. “I did, didn’t I?”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. Benny’s here to watch his sister’s lesson.”
Dan’s brows pop up to meet his hairline—which I notice is exactly where it was when we dated back in high school. Nothing receding there. Still thick, luscious dark hair that a girl itches to run her fingers through.
Not that I’m going to do that.
“His sister?” he asks.
“Hannah. She’s having a lesson with Ellie, right now,” I reply, gesturing at the ice.
“All our kids are in that lesson. That’s why we’re here,” Caroline says. “We love figure skating, but not as much as we love hockey. I’m Caroline. It’s great to see you again. You probably don’t remember me because I was a few years ahead of you in high school.”
“Hey, Caroline,” he replies, and then all the members of the Mom Squad introduce themselves, describing their tenuous connection to him as though sketching an elaborate family tree.
“Which one is Hannah?” he asks once he’s humored them all.
“She’s the one in the white hat and jacket,” I explain, pointing at her on at the ice. If he sees the rip in her tights, he doesn’t mention it.
“I noticed her when I came in. She’s a natural on the ice. Talented.”
I can’t help but smile proudly as I watch her fluid movements. Next to some of the other kids in the class, who clunk around, looking stiff and uncomfortable, Hannah looks like she was born to skate.
I flick my gaze to Dan’s and notice him watching me .
“Thanks,” I murmur, heat claiming my cheeks.
“Dan Roberts!” a deep voice says, thankfully pulling his attention from me.
I look over to see Troy, the owner of the arena and the Hawk River Lodge, heading our way. He’s accompanied by another big guy, who I can only assume is another member of the Ice Breakers charity team. Together, they’re one imposing group, three huge guys in great shape with shoulders wide enough to form a bridge.
“Good to see you, Troy,” Dan says as they shake hands warmly.
Troy slaps Dan on the back, his face lit up in a genuine smile. “I am so excited you’re here. This is going to be an incredible six weeks. Right, ladies?”
They all enthusiastically agree as they gaze appreciatively at the cluster of men.
That’s one positive aspect to this whole Ice Breakers thing: serious eye candy for the ladies over the coming weeks. I’m sure none of the women of the town will complain about that.
“Dan, I want you to meet Scotty MacFarland. He’s the second coach for the team, working with Doug Strickland,” Troy says, and I take the opportunity to slink away, leading Benny further up the bleachers as Dan and Scotty MacFarland shake hands in greeting.
Hiding behind my book, I watch the three of them as they discuss Dan’s injury—something literally everyone in Maple Falls has been concerned about since he came out second best in a collision with the plexiglass during practice—my humiliation finally beginning to subside.
The first meeting with Dan is done. It might not have been as I pictured it, but then weirdly, I didn’t picture myself lying on the ground, hoping to melt into the floor during our first meeting since we broke up. But at least it’s over, and now I know that when I do inevitably see him again, it can’t be nearly as awkward. We can meet as two impartial acquaintances, important to one another in the past, but no longer.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself. That way it’s so much safer for my heart.