Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  “You’re not really going to let that get between us, are you? Because—”

  She held up a hand. “It’s not even about that. Honestly. It just gave me back the perspective I’d lost. Bear, don’t you think I want us to work? That’s one of the only things I’ve ever wanted. And I know you want it, too. But it just can’t. We already learned that once the hard way. That’s some history I don’t want to repeat.”

  “It can be different this time.”

  “How?”

  His mouth hung open, but nothing would come out. There had to be a defense, a plan, but his mind was blank.

  She unfolded herself, reached over, and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze that he felt deep in his heart. Her eyes welled with tears she fought to contain, but a few slipped free, falling over her cheeks, collecting at the point of her chin. Her sad resolution tore him apart. Her voice trembled. “I love you. I always have. I always will. But I have my life, and you have yours, and we … we have to let this go.”

  No. It wasn’t that simple and never would be. There had to be a way. And he’d find it. “Ari, I love you. I understand this is how you feel, and you have every right, but I swear on everything that’s sacred, I will prove myself to you.”

  “Bear…”

  “I’m booking a flight out to Louisiana. Tonight. I can tell you mean what you say. And I hear you. But I’m not giving up.”

  “Bear…”

  He stood then bent to kiss her one more time. If he had a say, it wouldn’t be their last, but he made it count just the same, pouring everything he felt into it, cradling her face in his hands, tasting her tears. He made it to the door when her voice stopped him.

  “Goodbye.”

  Not yet.

  15

  Blaring music rocketed Aria out of a fitful sleep. From zero to completely awake in three seconds. She grabbed her phone and turned the alarm off. Heart still pounding, she sat up, eyes closed, for a minute. Pale light filtered in, but it still seemed too bright. When she finally opened them and squinted, her dim room began to take shape. Everything looked normal. Then it hit her. The controversy with Jasper. The talk with Bear. That one hurt. He’d said he heard her. But he hadn’t listened. Didn’t he know the longer he held on, the worse it would be? She’d found that out years ago. Well, he could think what he wanted. They were done. And he was gone.

  That thought left her hollow as she slid out of bed and dressed on autopilot. He’s gone. It wasn’t any easier the second time around. It should be. This time it’d been her choice. Hadn’t blindsided her. So why did it seem like a big piece of her was missing? It was the oddest feeling and one she hadn’t experienced in a long while, like she’d been split down the middle and was missing an arm, a leg, half of her heart. He’d barely been home for more than a few weeks, but that’s all it’d taken to reclaim the spot in her soul she’d left vacant for him. Hadn’t even known she’d done it. What’s the matter with me?

  A slow breath cleared the raucous thoughts. Today held one objective, to make things right with her people. On her way out the door, she kissed Gijú on the cheek, and her mother didn’t say a word. Completely atypical, but maybe she knew. Maybe she finally understood the situation as it was and not as she wanted it to be. It was a relief, but it made Aria ache, too. As misguided as her gijú could be, her relentless belief that Bear would be her son-in-law had given Aria a tiny flare of hope—if her mother believed it would happen, maybe she saw something Aria didn’t. But now that flare extinguished.

  Chin up, lips pressed firmly together, Aria drove to work and forced her mind blank. She had to address a good portion of all First Nations in fifteen minutes. Crying would not help prove her strength or capability. It didn’t matter what Ollie said. Love made you weak. Talking to him would only encourage a breakdown, so she walked right by his understanding, Let’s talk gaze in the hallway and headed for the council meeting room. Quiet footsteps in her wake confirmed he understood and would follow her lead. The stage was already set with a computer on the desk. This time, instead of facing the chairs on the floor, they were turned to face a big screen. A couple taps set everything up and turned on the projector. She took her seat and almost jumped when Ollie set a hand on her back.

  “You ready for this?”

  No. “Yes. The sooner I clear this up, the better.”

  He studied her for a few seconds more then nodded and took a seat beside her.

  It felt good to know he had her back, but a heart-to-heart would shatter her, so she pushed it away and connected to the videoconference. Their faces came up in the lower corner of the giant screen, and the rest of it was segmented into squares. Some of them were blank, but others were already filled by other band leaders—a few Mi’kmaq, but most from other tribes. She took a slow breath. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning” echoed back from those in attendance.

  “I want to start by expressing my apology for the behavior of one of my residents and the unfortunate attention that’s brought us. Before I agreed to the media day, I considered this possibility. I had thought I’d taken enough precautions that it wouldn’t come to pass, but I made an oversight, and I own that.”

  James Young, chief of a Pacific Northwest reserve shrugged. “Don’t take it to heart, Chief Paul. We’ve all struggled with this unfair agenda of the media’s all the way back to colonization. The truth is that a serious problem did exist for us, and to some extent it still does. All we can do is provide support for our residents who need it and take opportunities to show our best selves to the world. That’s what you tried to do.”

  Lots of heads nodded up and down on the screen, but a few shook side to side in disagreement. The heavy stone of guilt in her stomach grew a little bit bigger.

  “I don’t know. We’d been doing fine avoiding headlines until now. Letting the press in is asking for trouble. This proves that. We should keep our doors closed in the future.” Kay Bennett, band chief of the closest Mi’kmaq reserve to Bear Mountain sat back far enough in her chair to show her folded arms. It made sense she’d feel that way. If a bad news story worked like a skipping rock, Bear Mountain was obviously the initial splash, but Kay’s reserve would be the second. She’d have taken almost as much heat as Aria. A few of the other Mi’kmaq leaders agreed, but most First Nation chiefs spoke over each other in Aria’s defense.

  Not just in her defense, but in defense of her choice. The crushing blame she’d heaped upon herself for the last two weeks started to dissipate and was replaced with the hesitant, warm feeling of belonging. As chief, it was her job to instill that in her reserve, but it was something different to have the colleagues she respected put her at ease and make her feel like a valued part of a bigger whole, to have them validate the toughest decision she’d had to make and one she’d begun to doubt.

  “Chief Paul?”

  Her face warmed. “I’m sorry. I got lost in the shuffle there for a minute.”

  “Understandable.” James nodded. “To recap so everyone can hear and vote, as First Nations chiefs, we want to look for controlled opportunities to portray ourselves favorably to the public and let the world know what we know: we’re a good people with much to be proud of. We’re educated and succeeding—not just in our world but in the world at large. If we can build bridges and help outsiders see the sides of us that are familiar to them, it will go a long way in improving relations and our image. To that end, we’ve got an obvious opportunity staring us in the face, and hope you’ll agree.”

  She’d been with him, nodding, right up until the end. That’s when the emotion coaster reached the top of the hill and previewed the coming drop. Please don’t say it.

  “Bear Thompson has been a great example of a First Nation son who’s gone on to achieve great success. A few of us can also claim professional hockey players for our reserves, but Bear’s victory has most recently been in the spotlight. We’d like you to work with him and the league in providing more chances to highlight his Mi’kmaq backg
round. Work out interviews, speaking engagements, guest appearances.”

  The emotion coaster tipped over the edge and rushed down so fast, her heart was at her feet. What could she say? She didn’t want to do it because they weren’t together anymore? Because just saying his name made her want to cry? James had a point and one she couldn’t refute. After all, hadn’t that reasoning led her to the Cup decision in the first place?

  Oliver opened his mouth—no doubt in her defense—but she set a hand on his arm and cleared her throat.

  “As I’m sure you know, his schedule will keep him busy and mostly in the United States. A lot of that won’t be negotiable.” Saying it hurt but redoubled her resolve to keep that door of her life closed. He couldn’t be here. It was as simple as that. “When an opportunity arises, I’ll see what I can do.”

  The meeting moved on from there but she was only half present, nodding and uttering single-syllable responses when prompted. As much as she’d wanted to make a clean break and move on, every part of her life somehow reminded her of Bear’s absence. Would that ever go away? Even though he’d left, she still couldn’t escape him. The worst part was … she didn’t really want to.

  Management wants to talk to you. It was never something a player wanted to hear, but the words were music to Bear’s ears. They weren’t the only ones who wanted to talk. He’d been back in New Orleans for almost two weeks and had barely left his house. Hell, he’d barely left his bedroom. Lights off, movie channel on, an array of fast food bags and boxes spread in a radius around his bed in the order the junk was eaten. Normally, his teammates would have been pestering him to go out—the younger ones to party and the older ones to golf. Somehow he fit into a magical age where he could hang with both groups, but luckily they were all still in their individual hometowns.

  Aria wouldn’t talk to him. At all. He’d called, texted, emailed. Nothing. He’d wanted to explain his game plan, but it’d been far from definite, and he couldn’t get her hopes up just to crush her again. But now, even if things did work out the way he wanted with hockey, would it even matter? Yes. It would. If she never spoke to him again, the only way he’d make peace with his mistake would be to do everything in his power to fix it. He owed her that. He owed it to himself, too.

  The doorbell rang. Not the right time of year for Girl Scout cookies. He pulled on the last clean pair of twill shorts and a polo shirt, slid on some leather flip-flops, and answered it.

  Kevin Holtz, his agent, did a double take then schooled his expression into something more neutral. “Bear. Uh. I thought I’d pick you up so we could talk on the way.

  Pick me up? Like he needed a babysitter? As much as the guy tried to hide it, Kevin definitely looked flustered and a little bit afraid. Do I really look that bad? Okay, he’d been showering every few days and hadn’t shaved in … a while. Those things just hadn’t felt important. Nothing had. Maybe Kevin had a right to look like a spooked squirrel. Bear smoothed a hand back through his hair and aimed for a disarming smile. “Sure. Let me get ready real quick, and we’ll head out.”

  “Great. I’ll just wait in the car.” Tension eased from Kevin’s posture, relief visible on his face as he probably thanked God that what he currently beheld wasn’t the cleaned up version of his client. For the first time in weeks, Bear smiled.

  It only took ten minutes to groom himself into a respectable human or damn close enough, and Kevin seemed appeased when Bear dropped into the passenger seat of the convertible. As they headed out of the gated community and toward the Crescent Center, the agent drummed his fingers on the wheel and glanced at Bear from the corner of his eye every other minute.

  Bear sighed. “Spit it out, man.”

  Kevin straightened and his eyebrows lifted, obviously fighting to decide whether he should speak his mind or hold his tongue. Finally, he cleared his throat. “We haven’t talked about why you want to move teams. Typically, when a player wins the Cup with his current team, he wants to stay there at least through the following season if he can, and the Rage have said they want you back. You’re an unrestricted free agent in high demand, so you can do what you want, but…”

  “You want to know why I want to go to Boston when I have a shot at another ring right where I am.”

  “Well, I … yeah.”

  “Winning the Cup is what made me want to leave.”

  His agent pumped the brakes, nearly nudging the car in front of them at a red light.

  “It was a wake up call. Going home made me realize how miserable I’ve been here. My whole life, I thought the most important thing I could do was win the Cup. Reaching that goal made me see that nothing is important—nothing holds value—if you don’t share it with the people who matter.”

  “Is this about a girl?”

  “No. It’s about the girl. The only girl. And it’s about hoping I’m not too late.”

  Kevin didn’t argue. He might not have agreed, and from an agent’s standpoint, there was no reason to. But when it came time to sit in GM Steven Garey’s office and lay out what his client wanted, Kevin didn’t hesitate. Bear sat back, nodded when he needed to, then found himself standing and shaking Garey’s hand.

  “We’re sad to lose you, son. You’ve been a hell of a player for us. We wish you all the best in Boston.”

  “Thank you, Sir. I’ll need it.”

  16

  It was a big day—the official opening of the Bear Mountain cultural center to the public. Bittersweet to admit the final funding push had come from the business boom of the Cup day celebration, but it happened. She’d made it happen. Aria stood behind the information desk at the entrance, smiling at everyone who came in, smiling when she was the only one in the room. Few Bear Mountain chiefs had created this kind of legacy. As good as that felt, her heart wasn’t in it full strength. Hadn’t been since Bear left. She’d finally achieved the biggest goal she’d had, and it just … didn’t mean as much without him. It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t still have so much of an effect on her life, but he did.

  After the first few weeks, he’d stopped calling. It was what she’d asked for, what she’d thought she wanted. It wasn’t until the phone stopped ringing that the truth settled in. The only thing worse than Bear’s relentless pursuit was Bear giving up. A cool, fall gust came in through the open front doors and sent the pile of center maps on the desk fluttering to the floor. She bent to collect them and picked up the last one right as the bell dinged on the desk. “Just a second. Be right with—” She stood, her mouth dropped open, and the maps fell back to the ground.

  Bear stood on the other side of the desk with a small bouquet of sunflowers. Her favorite. “Hi. The place looks amazing. Congratulations.”

  Things like words still escaped her, but her voice wasn’t trustworthy at the moment anyway. She nodded.

  “I got traded.”

  She licked her lips and tried to formulate a response. “I know.” It was the best she could do.

  “I asked for the trade.”

  She knew that, too. It’d been in the news, and Jesse had gone on and on about it. But there was one thing she didn’t know. “Why?”

  “It’s a very short flight and not that long of a drive.”

  “From?”

  “The only thing that really matters to me.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she swayed. Setting her palms on the desk, she took a breath and tried to hold on to her last tether of resolve. All that time spent convincing herself he didn’t really want what he thought he did, that she didn’t want it. Wasted. Hard to regret it when it felt so good. “What are you saying?”

  He took four, slow steps around the counter and stood before her, holding the flowers like they were an offering to the spirits. Except, he was offering them to her. Resting on the top bloom was a familiar ring. Nukumi’s. A small string tied it to the stem He waited until she took the bouquet before he answered. “I’m saying I’m lucky. Some people go their whole lives never figuring out what they really want. It took me
a while. I’m sorry for that. I just hope it didn’t take too long. I’m saying I love you. I want to be with you. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. I never want to lose you again, Ari.”

  The tears fell. She swept a hand up to wipe them away, and shook her head. Countless times over the years, she’d imagined him saying these words in some form, had chastised herself for wanting to hear them. But now … they opened a floodgate inside she’d soldered shut, and everything she’d buried down deep came pouring out. For the first time, it didn’t matter that he saw her cry, that he saw he vulnerable.

  Bear closed the gap and pulled her into his arms, cradling her close. She held on tightly and pressed her face into his shoulder. Through the smooth sheet of her hair, he nuzzled and kissed her ear. “I will never let you go again.” In the minute it took to compose herself, Bear stood there patiently like he wouldn’t mind staying just like this the rest of his life. She wouldn’t mind either.

  When she stilled, he took a step back and then took a knee. With a touch so gentle he didn’t disturb a single petal, he broke the thread that attached the ring and held the simple band up to her. “Aria Mimiges Paul, you’ve been my best friend since I could walk. You steadied me, challenged me, and loved me even when I didn’t deserve it. I will spend the rest of my life earning you if you’ll spend the rest of your life with me.”

  She sniffled and laughed at the same time. “Took you long enough.”

  He grinned, pure relief and joy easing the hard lines of his face as he slid the ring on her finger. A perfect fit. “That’s what Jesse said. And my mom and dad. And Nukumi, actually. She wanted you to have this.”

  Nothing could mean more. Aria pulled Bear up and kissed him without reservation. He returned it with passion that lit her up from the inside out. Before she got swept away entirely, she smiled against his lips and leaned back enough so they were nose to nose. “This makes it easier to ask if you’ll do more interviews and appearances on behalf of the tribe.”