Stella ascends the stairs that cry out for a rebuild. “Good night, Eli. Drive safe.”
“Good night, Stella. Don’t forget—you owe me that coffee.”
My pulse rocks hard all the way back to Denver. She’s ready for more. The only question left is how long she can keep pretending she isn’t.
CHAPTER 8
OPENING THE DOOR
STELLA
I don’t knowhow it happened. One minute the Cozy Corner Craft Shop can barely make ends meet. Then suddenly Mom’s been so busy fulfilling online orders, she can’t leave the store.
Since she was crap at managing money, she relegated all such dealings to me when I moved here. I’m grateful for the increase in revenue. If the month continues like this, we might get caught up on a few of the bills.
She’s happier being busier too. What happened to Dad took a toll on her. He might pay the price in prison, but Marjorie is paying the price in declining health and mental stability since their divorce. I admire her because she’s still here, taking each day as it comes. But being busier means… I’m taking Aiden to hockey class tonight.
It’s fine. I’m fine. The fact that Eli hugged me against his body the other night so tightly doesn’t wear on my mind at all.It only transported me back in time—to wild hockey parties, and crazy dates with him, to being in his arms, as he rocked my world with his thick stick?—
“Let’s go, Mom.” Aiden set his gear bag on the ground with a huff and wipes his brow with the back of his hand. “These bags sure are heavy.”
“You know you don’t have to bring the entire set. Just your helmet, knee and elbow pads, gloves and skates.”
“But I have to be ready for anything. You never know what coach might have us do.”
“Oh, of course. You’re right. We’d better go then.” My lips twitch at how seriously he takes this.
On the way, Aiden says, “Can you shoot a video with your phone while I’m skating tonight?”
“Absolutely, I will.” He’s so precious with his passion for hockey. Who knows, maybe there is a sport in his future. Although I have yet to break his interest in hockey to Jerrod, the eternal football enthusiast.
“I want to send a video to Dad. Do you think he’ll be proud of me like the coach is?” That’s the first time he’s mentioned Jerrod since this whole obsession with hockey started.
“Sure, buddy.”
It might be best if Jerrod doesn’t know Eli is in charge of the Wishes Granted Hockey Foundation for now. Back in college, jealousy raged between the two guys over me. It didn’t help that I still had some classes with Jerrod since we were both studying education at the time, so we remained friendly after our breakup. He’d be jealous if I brought up Eli in conversation, and Eli would react similarly if I mentioned about Jerrod talking to me in class. I was stuck in the middle.
About a month after I started dating Eli, I was to meet him outside the library on campus for dinner and studying. Only when I’d arrived, I found he and Jerrod in a yelling and shovingmatch over me, drawing a crowd of jocks around them. It soon became footballers versus hockey studs. Jerrod took the first punch, which was a huge mistake, standing a few inches shorter and leaner than Eli. Embarrassed after Eli nearly knocked him out with one punch, Jerrod ran off.
Who knows how he may take the news about his son seeing Eli regularly? But that was years ago. Now we’re all adults, Jerrod has remarried, and cares little about me since even before the divorce.
When we arrive at the rink, we have to park further away. The parking lot sits fuller with more cars. Inside, energy buzzes through the place with people everywhere. The program seems to have expanded. Good for Eli.
“There’s way more kids today.” I know my son, and that’s his worried voice. His eyes scout around for his group and coach while tugging his helmet on, twisting his head side to side to make sure it’s snug.
“I noticed.” I kneel to lace up his skates. “But it’ll still be fun.”
We spot Eli on the ice, talking with some other players—three more of them, all in Aspens jerseys, and broad and good-looking in that effortless, athletic way that makes many women swoon. With an air of commanding confidence, he rules the ice—what has always made him a great captain and leader.
He could take command of my body right now, and I might actually let him. The hug after he fixed my car started a small fire I haven’t been able to put out yet, no matter how hard I try.
He blows a whistle and calls for his group, the Crashers, the name they put in place last week. Aiden loves it.
“Ready, little crasher?” Eli skates up to us, fist-bumping Aiden first—and then me too. “Good to see you tonight, Stella.”
“Thanks.” I smile, and they’re off. I break out my phone first, and shoot a video of Aiden skating. I intentionally avoid getting Eli into the frame; for now, best to keep it about Aiden.
With an hour to fill, and plenty of studying to fill it, I find a quiet place in the stands and try to focus on my laptop. Eventually, someone settles in beside me.
