“Just Jordan and Jessie. Oh, and Chooch briefly.”
At the sound of his name, Chooch looks over. His round eyes blink, like he’s just remembered he’s at a social function, and he stands up and walks into the kitchen. Ainsley watches him with a cold, hard glare. If he notices, he doesn’t react. He smiles at Shay and waves. “Hi again.”
Stephanie turns to Avery. “And this is Avery Westwood.”
Avery gives her a friendly smile, and she gives him a cool one back that he doesn’t seemed shock to receive, but I am. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Hi, Shayne. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Yeah,” she replies coolly and pushes her long hair over her shoulder; she stands a little straighter. “I mean it’s been forever. If you’d have visited my brother in the hospital, we’d have met years ago.”
Uh-oh. I don’t know the entire history between Avery and Trey Beckford, clearly. I know Trey broke two vertebrae in a hockey game when he played with Avery in college and that he tried to make a comeback from the injury but it didn’t work out. At least that’s Avery’s side. I guess maybe Shay has a different side.
Stephanie glances between Avery and Shay, also noting the temperature drop in the room, and her eyes meet mine, confused. “So, anyone want a drink? Shayne, how about a Corona?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“And Seb will make margaritas,” Avery announces, and I stare at him. He raises his can of beer toward the blender on the counter. “You and Chooch always make margaritas when we do chili night.”
Right. Chooch and I had concocted some crazy coconut mint margarita drink the first year we did it. I glance at our goalie pleadingly, hoping he remembers what the hell ingredients we used because I sure as hell don’t. Chooch points to a bag on the counter. “I brought the coconut and mint.”
“I brought it,” Ainsley corrects, and I turn and see her standing in the corner of the room. Her exotic features are somehow softer than they usually are. Less sharp…kind of sad. “You thought we used coconut milk, but it was actually coconut cream.”
Chooch glances at her, his face void of any emotion, and simply nods. “Yeah.”
Ainsley’s eyes land on Shayne and I tense because she’s not known to welcome any woman to the fold without taking a few swipes at her first. But today she just smiles—actually smiles.
“Hi. I’m Ainsley. Welcome to chili night,” and then, because the girl can’t do nice without screwing it up, she adds, “You must be Dawn.”
Jordan actually drops his ladle. It smacks against the granite floor and the sound seems to echo because everyone else is completely silent. Stephanie is frozen, Shayne’s Corona fisted in her hand. Jessie’s eyes are as big as hockey pucks. Even Avery, who rarely shows emotion, is letting his mouth hang open in shock. Chooch, who was turned toward the bag of margarita supplies, tenses. His shoulders rise almost to his ears, and his head turns slowly toward Ainsley.
“Her name is Shayne,” he tells her in a low, deep voice oozing venom. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Ainsley looks like she’s just been wounded, and it’s the first time I’ve seen an honest emotion, other than hate, cross her face. “What? You told me he was dating a girl named Dawn. That was like two weeks ago.”
Shayne shifts, moving a step away from me. Oh, fuck.
Chooch spins to face Ainsley full on now and steps toward her. His voice gets lower, more like a rumble. “That was over a month ago. Now shut up. Go home.”
Tears tumble from Ainsley’s dark brown eyes. She puts her wineglass on the counter and then wordlessly strides out of the room and down the hall.
Jessie sighs. “Fuck.” She pulls off her apron and follows Ainsley down the hall.
“Sorry, Shayne,” Chooch mumbles without looking at her.
“It’s not your fault. I can see why she’d be confused,” Shay replies, and I don’t like that one bit.
“I need some air,” Chooch mumbles and wanders out the door in the den that leads to the backyard.
“Ainsley can’t leave before the chili,” Avery says suddenly, and my fists clench.
I have to shove them into my pockets to keep from punching him. Instead I level him with a stare and am about to tell him to go fuck himself when Shay turns to him. Her gray eyes are clear and cool as she meets Avery’s eye. “Aren’t you worried that this superstition stuff is bad for your brand?”
“What?” Avery asks, his normally calm, collected tone dipping into something apprehensive.
Shay isn’t backing down. “You know, if helping a friend restart his life in a positive way is bad for your brand, believing chili will win the Stanley Cup is probably going to make Reebok think twice before having you peddle their skates. But maybe Taco Bell will hire you as a spokesperson.” She glances up at me and then at Jordy with false innocence all over her pretty face. “Is Taco Bell good for a hockey brand? Excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom.”
Jordan points to his powder room, which is off the front hall. Without another word, Shay saunters out of the room. We all silently turn our gazes to Avery. He stares at us and then moves his eyes to the beer can in his hand. He looks guilty as shit. He knows exactly what Shay’s scorn is about, even if the rest of us have no fucking clue. Finally Stephanie says, “I feel like we should applaud or at the very least snap.”
My sister turns to Avery and swishes her arm out in front of her, snapping twice, once to the left and once to the right. Jordan laughs so hard he snorts. I grin, relieved for a break in the tension. Avery heaves a heavy breath. Stephanie drops forward on the island between her and Westwood and leans toward him, resting on her forearms. “So what did your brand do to her?”
