“I’m sure I can convince the restaurant to find us another table if they’ve given the one you booked away. You didn’t say where you booked.”
“I didn’t. I was thinking we could grab tacos from Tuck’s Taco Truck, but later. We have somewhere to be first,” she clarifies just as a cab pulls up to the curb and comes to a stop.
“And where exactlyarewe going?” I ask her.
“Your birthday present is ready,” she says, and slides into the backseat when I open the door for her.
“Ah, I forgot about that.”
I pull her hand into my lap and trace the lines on her palm with my index finger as the car hums down the street and weaves through traffic.
Erin stares down at our connected hands and just watches me. For a moment, I contemplate drawing letters with my fingers to tell her how much I want her, but the car stops before I get my chance.
“The stadium’s closed, Erin. They’re relaying the ice and getting it ready for the preseason,” I say as we pull up to it.
“I know. Come on,” she says, grabbing the door handle and pushing.
I take off my jacket the second the cold air nips at us and drape it over her shoulders as she walks in front of me.
My breath stutters as she feeds her arms through the sleeves. The sight of her in something that belongs to me makes it hard for me to think straight. It’s not quite my name on her back, but seeing how my jacket swallows her up, that has me eager to see her in nothing else but that.
Inside the stadium, there’s a man at the end of the corridor talking to Coach Avery. He winks at Erin before he disappears, leaving us standing alone with a man I’ve never met. He seems to be in his fifties, wearing a gray polo, black trousers, and a Tornadoes cap.
“Chase, this is Robert,” Erin says.
“Mr. Harper. Big fan.” I shake his hand and thank him. “Gang’s all here. Ready when you are, kid.”
“Gang?” I repeat.
Erin gestures for me to follow her. We walk ahead, and then I see them—Coach Avery, the general manager, Mark, my entire team as well as Valerie and Briar are all huddled together. Brodie, Bella, Brax, and Roman are standing beside them all, talking to one another.
“What’s going on? I didn’t realize Brodie and Bella were back in town.” My brows pull together as I look at Erin, who’s already moving to the boards.
“You’ll see,” is all she says as she steps onto the ice. I fall in step with her to make sure that she doesn’t slip and fall.
Been there. Done that. Got the T-shirt.
Roman launches himself at Erin when he sees her and starts talking about the books she gave to him.
Brax watches them in quiet regard, most likely thankful his son hasn’t tried to knock him out on the ice with one of his many wrestling moves.
Robert takes off his cap and glances around.
“In the ten years I have worked here as the lead ice technician, not once has anyone messed up. So do me proud, boys, or I’m holding that little lady responsible for swapping out my usual crew for a bunch of hockey players.” He winks, gesturing to Erin.
A few men move onto the ice, getting in position to help reveal our new Flying Tornadoes logo in the center of the rink.
The different shades of blue and gray pop against the freshly painted frozen surface. The air catches in my lungs when the outline of words around the outside of our logo is revealed.
62 - ON THE ICE AND IN OUR HEARTS ALWAYS - JACK HENDERSON
The words blur,the paint glistening against the smooth ice as time stands still. Claps echo around me, but they’re distant and muffled as if happening in another world and not beside me.
Erin comes to a stop in front of me. She presses a brush into my palm and closes my fingers around it. The weight of it sinks in—just like the ache inside of me.
“Happy birthday, Chase,” she whispers before pulling away and settling beside Brodie and Roman.
I let out a breath and kneel with the brush in my hand. The cool chill of the ice sinks into my bones. My fingers tremble—not from the cold, but from the importance of what I’m doing. My gaze locks on Jack’s number—62.
