I blinked out of the daze and shifted in my seat. “No, I think I’m okay.”
“I’ll… I’ll be back in a minute,” she said before darting off.
Gods, that was a disaster.
I slumped forward in the seat, took my backward baseball cap off, braced my elbows on my knees, and shoved the heels of my palms in my eyes. Fuck. I hoped I hadn’t scared her more. I hoped she wasn’t running out of the building and grabbing a cab to her apartment.
The man behind me reached over and clapped me on the shoulders, shaking me slightly as he laughed, and I knew he had seen what had happened and perhaps thought it amusing. I hung my head in my hand, wiping my eyes to eliminate the anxiety of that almost-kiss.
“Killing you tonight, huh?” the man asked gruffly.
I recognized that voice. I sat up, grasping the ends of my armrests as I turned, and when I confirmed who it was, I scoffed.
“Fucking Styx,” I said, smiling and shaking my head at Ares’s smirking figure. “What are you doing here?”
Ares grinned. “You know I like hockey,” he said.
“I’m fully aware,” I said. “You own the team. I meant, what are you doing down here with the regular people?”
“I saw you and the girl on the big screen,” he said, pointing to the large screens over the ice. “Thought I would come to talk. You two want to sit in the box for the rest of the game?”
“Ah… maybe. I’ll ask when she returns, though I think she prefers being down on the ice.” I glanced up at the box, expecting to see any of his friends—
Fuck.
“She’s here?” I asked him, seeing Aphrodite in the box, too.
Ares sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you bring your girl up and introduce her?”
“Why? So she can harm her again?” I asked.
“She’ll behave,” he swore.
I looked back up at the box, seeing my mother standing there with her arms wrapped around her chest, looking almost…normalas she wore an oversized jersey, leggings, a jean jacket, and tall boots. It was a side of my mother I rarely saw—a side of her that was usually reserved for Ares.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - GAVIN
“DO YOU WANT another drink?” I asked Chloe toward the end of the second period.
She turned, her eyes dilated and hungry for the game happening before her. A wild look of happiness and adrenaline rushed through her with every slap and hit on the ice.
“I want to grab it before the period ends, and there’s a rush at the stand,” I told her.
“Yeah, I’ll take another beer,” she said, handing me the aluminum cup.
Players ran into the wall then, and she turned back to the game, yelling obscenities and insults at the top of her lungs. I reached over and pinched her ass as she lunged out of the seat, then got up to run to the concession stand when the players stalled in the middle of the ice.
The game became a hum as I hit the top of the steps. I glanced at the tv screen by the restrooms, seeing the Sharks score, and I knew Chloe was probably celebrating with the fans around us. I laughed inwardly at the thought as I set our cups down at the stand and ordered two more.
Someone walked up behind me, standing almost too close as I waited for the drinks. My attention turned to the screen again behind the kiosk, and I tried not to let it bother me. I knew the person was more than likely drunk and unaware of their surroundings or personal space.
“Hockey games are all the same,” the person behind me said, the tone of their voice a deep, sarcastic drawl that made every hair on my neck stand on end. “Skate, hit, fight, score….” He scoffed, and I saw him lean against the wall in my peripheral. “You’d think they’d take all their sexual frustrations out on something a little sexier than a puck. Wouldn’t you agree, Eros?”
My entire body went on alert. Every muscle and feeling down to the tiniest molecule in my blood seemed to still. I knew the voice. I knew the sardonic way in which he spoke.
My left hand clenched around my drink and nearly crushed it as I peered sideways at his smug figure, and the happy mood I’d been in instantly vanished.
