“Who are you here for?” the blonde asked.
“Aiden Deller.”
The blonde’s thin eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s surprising.”
“Why?” Lexa demanded.
“Oh, no offense. He just never invites anyone. Even his parents stopped coming.”
“Really?”
She gestured to the empty seats. “Most don’t. Ever since the guys have been winning, they’ve ignored everyone. Hockey is all they care about.”
Lexa watched the team warm up. A dead serious expression covered all their faces as they passed the puck with precise motions. She had heard the rumors, and the nickname, but to see them in action sent a chill along her spine. Aiden matched the other’s mechanical movements, but when they circled to return to the bench, he met her gaze and winked.
Feeling a little better, Lexa asked the blonde who she was rooting for.
“Ryan Collins, but not for long.”
“Why?”
“He’s lost interest in life. Ryan’s turned as cold as the ice he skates on. If you’re smart, don’t get involved with Aiden.”
“Oh. No, I’m not … He just … ” The game started, saving her.
With the blonde’s comments fresh in her mind, Lexa paid attention to the Ice Men. Since she had seen them last, they had improved in every way—skating, passing, working as a team. Yet when they scored a goal, they didn’t celebrate. No one raised a stick or smiled or slapped each other despite the crowd’s roar.
Deep in the third period, Aiden scored his hat trick. He pumped a fist and smiled at Lexa.
The blonde leaned close to her ear. “Maybe you should stick around. Aiden’s showing signs of life.”
The buzzer signaled another win for the team. Spectators filed out as the players lined up to slap hands. Lexa debated. Should she go?
As the teams broke apart and headed off ice, Aiden caught her eye. He put his hand up in a stopping motion and pointed down as if he wanted her to wait for him. She nodded. He gave her a thumbs up.
A strange tingling on her skin caused her to look across the ice. Coach Hakim stared at her. His hard expression unreadable, but she sensed trouble in his gaze. She shivered, and pulled her jacket closer. When she risked another peek, the coach had disappeared.
The stands were almost empty when a familiar voice called her name. Jason and the girlfriend stood a few rows down from her. They held hands. How cute. She braced for the dagger of pain, but felt nothing.
“I thought you didn’t like hockey,” Jason said.
She shrugged. “It grew on me.”
“Sure it did.” His sarcastic tone suggested otherwise. “Don’t you think this is a little pathetic?” He smirked.
“What is?”
“Coming here so you’d run into me, hoping I’d see you and regret dumping you.”
The girlfriend giggled.
When they’d been dating, they’d always done what he wanted, and never did anything she enjoyed. She studied Jason and wondered how she could have fallen in love with him.
“Get over yourself, Jason. I didn’t come here for you,” she said.
“Yeah? Then why did you come?”
“Because I invited her,” Aiden said. He held a hockey stick, and his hair was still wet from a shower.
Jason gaped and stammered.
“Ready to go?” Aiden asked her, holding out his free hand.
“Yep. I’m so done.” Without hesitating, she took his hand. They left the rink as if they were a couple. From the moment she touched him, she felt as if they’d been a couple for years. That kind of thinking would only lead her in one direction, back into the valley of pain where she’s been wallowing since May.
When they reach the parking lot in front of the pavilion, Aiden let go. “Sorry about that, but when I heard that son-of-a-bitch gloating … It was either that or I was going to punch him.”
“And ruin another shirt for me? I couldn’t handle the guilt.”
Aiden laughed. He stopped next to a black Honda Accord and unlocked the trunk. Tossing the hockey stick in, he closed it. “I’m starving. Do you want to go get something to eat?”
Her heart danced in her chest, but she replied with—she hoped—a casual tone. “Sure.”
“Great. Hop in.” He opened the door for her.
So polite. She slid into the passenger seat.
He settled behind the wheel. “Almost forgot.” Reaching into the back, he grabbed her baseball cap. “I picked this up after the paramedics left. Yours?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“You don’t seem the baseball cap type,” he said.
“I’m not, but it helps disguise me when I’m outside alone.”
“You could arrange for an escort.”
“I could.”
He shook his head. “Do you mind if we go to Bellefonte for dinner? If I eat around campus, I get a bunch of drunk guys telling me how fabulous I am.” He gave her a wry grin. “I don’t mind being told I’m fabulous by drunk girls.”
“It must suck to be famous,” she said.
“Yep. Poor me.”
Lexa laughed. For the first time in months her stomach growled with hunger instead of swirling with nausea. For the first time the thought of her sister didn’t cause intense pain.
“Did you enjoy the game?” Aiden asked.
“Yes. But the players looked too serious.”
Aiden kept his focus on the road. “Coach doesn’t like us to celebrate goals. He thinks it’s poor sportsmanship. Actually, he tells us to leave all our emotions in the locker room. He says pre-game jitters, anger, or just stressing over a test can all get in the way of our performance.”
“That strategy is definitely working. No penalties, fights, plus the bonus of being undefeated.”
“Yeah. It’s nice.”
She sensed a but.
“How’s your neck?” he asked, changing the subject.
After dinner, Aiden drove her home. Before she opened the car door, he handed her a stack of hockey tickets.
“This isn’t going to help my thermodynamics grade,” she said.
“No problem, I got an A in thermo last semester.”
“Of course you did. Can you turn metal into gold, too?” she teased.
“All the time. Except for my hockey skates, they’re platinum—gold is too soft.”
She stood there grinning like an idiot as he drove away. She knew it couldn’t last, that he would leave her, too. At least when she hit bottom this time, it would be at full speed and cause major carnage.
Over the next five days, she saw Aiden every day. They either went to dinner after a game, or he helped her with thermodynamics. Officer Reed called her mid-week to report that they had caught a wild dog on campus. He wanted her to identify it. Aiden skipped practice to drive her to the pound on Thursday afternoon.
“Won’t your coach be upset?” she asked.
“Not for this.”
“Why not?”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Lexa, I need a favor.”
“Sure.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
She shrugged. “Considering all you’ve done for me, it would have to be a crime for me to say no.” She kept her tone light.
Instead of smiling, Aiden grimaced. Uh oh.
He stopped at a red light. Meeting her gaze, he said, “I want you to tell Officer Reed that the dog they caught was the one that attacked you even if it isn’t.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain later, although it’s hard to believe. Christ, I don’t believe it myself sometimes.”
“But if it’s the wrong dog, then the right one might attack—”
“Won’t happen. I promise no one will be harmed again.”