“What got into you tonight?” Mom says, hugging him. “You were in beast mode!” I narrow my gaze from my position on the wall. She is oblivious to me right now, all her attention focused on my brother.
“That guy gets under my skin,” he says.
Ooh! I nearly bite my tongue in half to stay silent.
“Aiden? After what your father said about him last night?” Mom asks, incredulous. “You didn’t seem upset with him then, and you pounced on him during the first shift!”
Ethan rubs his hand over his beard, his fingertips tracing over the thick black stubble. “I needed to make a statement to Coach. And others.” His gaze travels over to me, where I’m standing against the concrete blocks, the cold seeping through my back. “Scar,” he says, nodding his head.
Mom turns and looks at me, a frown forming on her mouth.
Damn it, she’s thinking again. The last thing I want to do is hug Ethan because I’m furious with him, but I need to throw her off. So I put a smile on my face, walk over, and give him a hug, ignoring not only how sweaty he is, but how my blood is practically boiling right now with anger toward him.
I step back. “Have a good trip.”
Ethan looks as if he wished he could say a million things to me, but he can’t. Instead, he clears his throat. “Gotta go. Love you guys.”
Then he’s back in the dressing room. I turn to Mom. “I’ve got to go, too.”
She’s still studying me, trying to figure out what is going on between Ethan and me, but I’m not going to give her a chance to do it.
I give her a quick hug. “Love you. Talk to you later.”
I start to leave, but Mom reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. “Sweetie, you know you can tell me anything, right? Anything at all?”
“Of course,” I say brightly.
She arches an eyebrow skeptically. “Okay.”
I say goodbye and leave. This time, I don’t feel guilty about keeping my relationship a secret. This belongs to me. It’s not open for my family to dissect and provide unwanted opinions on.
I’m going to protect Aiden, I vow.I’m doing it now.And I’ll do it when we decide to inform my family we’re a couple, too.
But at the moment? Ethan is about to get an earful.
I make my way to my car, slide behind the wheel, and don’t even start it before I pick up my phone and pull up Ethan’s number. I wait for it to go to voicemail, since I know he’s changing and showering before they have to get out of here for the airport.
One ring. Two rings. On the third, his familiar voice comes on the line, and the sound of it makes my blood singe, I’m so mad.
“Hey. This is Ethan. I can’t take your call. Leave your message and I’ll get back to you.”
A beep fills my ear, and as soon as it ends, I let go of everything I’ve held inside from the second he punched Aiden tonight.
“Ethan. Scarlett. Don’t you EVER interfere in my life like that again. You were such an asshole tonight. I am not a child. I do not need—or WANT—your quote-unquote protection. I’m an adult. You might not like that, but I am. You might not like my decisions, but they aren’t yours to make. Aiden is a good man—despite him breaking some stupid hockey code—and if you took more than ten seconds to think about it, you’d be freaking GRATEFUL that a man that kind, that protective, that strong, wants to love your sister. I’m going to be with Aiden. Period. Picking a fight with him on the ice because he’s dating your littlesister—in some sort of Neanderthal move—is immature at best. Grow up. And don’t call me back until you’ve done that.”
Then I hang up and throw my phone into the passenger seat. My body is shaking with adrenaline. My heart is hammering against my ribs. My throat is dry as I finally take another breath.
I have never spoken to Ethan like that in my life. When he and Jamie would interfere, I just let them. I lived through the embarrassment of having brothers scaring off potential dates, and I relished the freedom I had when I went to Connecticut for school.
But I’m no longer a high school student. Or a co-ed. I’m an adult. I’m an adult woman who has proven my entire life that I’m smart and capable. I don’t make rash decisions. Even with Aiden, I hesitated.
But choosing him was the best decision I’ve ever made.
I smile as I picture him, the wayward hair across his forehead, the scar over his eye, the dimple in his cheek, and warmth spreads through me, replacing the jittery, angry feeling.
Aiden told me he will always choose me.
And I will always—always—choose him, too.
