Before she could process what he said, he took a sudden, sharp left turn, cutting down a small, worn road through what appeared to be an abandoned field. She grabbed the door handle, hanging on for dear life as they started bounding their way down the rugged path. “What are you doing?” she asked, exasperated.
“My uncle’s house is up the road, but this is all his property. He always dreamed of living up here, especially because New York can provide one thing Charlotte can’t.”
She raised her eyes, too concerned with being bumped out of the vehicle to form her question into words. The car came to a sudden halt, propelling her forward before her seat belt locked and brought her slamming back. When she finally gained control of herself, he had flipped the headlights on bright. He leaned over the console toward her and pointed out into the fading light. “Up here you can have your own rink in your back yard.”
Her eyes lit up. In the distance, veiled by a blanket of light snow, was a frozen pond. Normally, it would be too early in the season to skate, but the unseasonable cold had worked its magic a month early.
She couldn’t deny the hint of excitement she felt as she smiled over at him. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve skated on a pond?”
Henrik’s smile captured his entire face just before he bit his lip. “Your sophomore year. Sigma Hockey Classic. You scored three goals in five minutes.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. The girls in her dormitory had begged her to join their team for the annual charity event. The sister of one of the school’s hockey stars had to be good, right? It was for a good cause, so she couldn’t turn them down. “You actually remember that?”
He rolled his eyes at her before opening his door. “Why do you think I went?”
He got out of the car before she could respond. She couldn’t believe he remembered her playing in that game. She quickly followed him, jumping out of the car and grabbing her skates out of the back seat. He sat on the bank of the pond, pulling his skates on. She eased down next to him. “You scored eight goals in the game you played,” she said, not looking over at him. “Three in the first period, and five in the second. They asked you not to play in the third, just to keep it fair.”
She started tying her skates, but she watched him smile out of the corner of her eye.
She remembered that game like it was yesterday—the crisp air, the buzzing chatter of half the campus getting drunk in the name of curing cancer. Most importantly, she remembered Henrik.
She looked up to see him leaned over, his elbows on his knees, looking thoughtfully out at the ice. “You borrowed Austin’s Minnesota Wild jersey to wear in the game, and tore a hole through the arm during the second period.” When he looked up, challenge glinted in his eyes, along with just a hint of mischief. “So, in the third, you wore my Hurricanes jersey.”
“No, I didn’t. That was Austin’s jersey too. Abby said he brought it to me between periods.”
He stood up, shaking off the snow before grinning down at her. “When has Austin ever been a Hurricanes fan? I’m from Charlotte, remember? I saw you rip your jersey, so I brought you mine. I made Abby give it to you, because I knew you wouldn’t accept it from me.”
She stood, her hands on her hips. “I’ve been sleeping in that jersey for a good five years now.”
His smile turned crooked. “I know.”
He stepped out on the ice, a pleased expression engulfing him. She was still too stunned by the revelation to follow after him. She couldn’t believe he’d done something so thoughtful. All these years she’d accepted the fact that her big brother had been looking out for her, when in reality, it had been Henrik.
“Why?” she finally asked, stepping onto the ice. “Why did you do that?”
She was more than curious; she needed to know for her own sanity. They weren’t speaking to each other by that point, the rift between them already feet deep. Henrik had no reason to be nice to her.
He skated down the ice, his movement fluid and easy as he made a giant circle around the rim of the small pond. “Why did you stay and sit out in the freezing cold to watch my game that night?” he shot back.
She pursed her lips at him. He skated back toward her, skidding to a stop on the jagged ice, leaving them nose to nose as he leaned down over her. “That answer you’re too stubborn to admit to, well, it’s a two way street.”
She wrinkled her nose. She’d watched his game because, as much as she didn’t want to admit to it, she had a crush on him, despite her greatest efforts against it. She’d practically scowled after every goal he made that tournament, sour grapes, because she knew the more attention he demanded, the longer the line of girls would be waiting for him after the game.
He rounded behind the tattered goal at the end of the pond, picking up two wooden hockey sticks, and a puck off the back of the net. He dusted the snow off before dropping the puck and shooting it toward her.
Leila stopped it with the toe of her skate, taking the extra stick as he skated past her. “Well, are there any other good deeds you let my brother take credit for that I don’t know about?”
“I don’t know about good deeds.” He smiled, easily reaching over and taking the puck from under her skate with his stick.
“What does that mean?”
She whirled around, watching him display his fancy puck handling skills as he batted it back and forth with ease. He stopped and flipped the puck up onto the end of his stick. “You remember the night we first met?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “How can I forget the puck flying at my head?”
He smiled, flipping the puck up in the air toward her, only to watch it land exactly two feet in front of her. “I did it on purpose.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You could have taken my head off.”
He laughed. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got good aim.”
“Why would you do such a thing?” she growled.
He shrugged. “The same reason any other red blooded male would intentionally shoot a hockey puck into the stands. I wanted the pretty girl’s attention.”
“That’s rich,” she huffed, grabbing the puck so she could have something to do rather than look at him. It brought back too many emotions, ones she tried so hard to pretend weren’t real. “Why try and get my attention that night, only to ignore me the next day and every day after that?”
The pain felt as raw in that moment as it had that very first day. She’d spotted Henrik in the commons area the day after their first meeting. She’d smiled and waved, only to be awarded with silence, and a daunting glare from the latest girl hanging onto his arm. It had been the beginning of the end for their brief moment in the sun.
Henrik’s back went straight as he took in her words. “That isn’t what happened,” he stated curtly.
“Really? Because that’s how it looked on my end. You would have thought I’d come down with a bout of leprosy when we ran into each other that next day.” Her voice was shaky at best, the truth in it, along with the residual pain that never really went away.
She positioned the puck in front of her and prepared to take out her frustration with a hard slap shot toward the goal. However, the ancient, wooden stick was heavier than the metal ones she was accustomed to, and the blade didn’t bend, sending the puck flying at an awkward angle straight up into Henrik’s unsuspecting nose.
He dropped to the ice like a dead fish, his hands cupping his face. He didn’t scream, but a litany of curse words fell from his mouth as blood started to leak down his face.
She dropped the stick, and her heart that had been thrumming in her eardrums crashed at her feet. She rushed toward him, dropping to her knees by his side. “Oh my gosh, Henrik. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
He moaned into his hands, rolling onto his stomach. She tried to pull his shoulder back to get a good look at the damage, but he reflexively jerked away. “I’m okay,” he muttered through his fingers, but she could see the blood seeping through the
slots and down his wrist.
She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She only wanted a momentary distraction from the swell of memories flooding her system so she could get control of herself.
“No, you’re not,” she shot back, her hand curling itself around the collar of his jacket. “Let me look at it.”
He continued to mumble, unconvincingly, that he was fine. It was useless. Henrik was a hockey player, and there was an unwritten rule that they weren’t allowed to feel pain. This wasn’t a game, though, and she refused to let him suffer because of her mistake. “Come on,” she insisted, pulling him to his feet. “At least let me get you off the ice.”
He slowly agreed, allowing her to help him up to his feet and over to the bank. Once he sat down, she was able to get a better vantage point. She shucked her coat off, and took off the Ninja Turtle t-shirt from over her tank top, and put her coat back on. She rolled the t-shirt up and pulled Henrik’s hands away from his face. “Here, you need pressure to stop the bleeding.”
He cursed a couple more times when she pressed the shirt against his bleeding nostrils. She held it firmly, leaning his head forward. He followed her guidance, but his eyes still remained locked on her.
“That wasn’t what happened,” he moaned from around the t-shirt.
“What?” she asked, having totally forgotten their argument.
He took the shirt from her hands, moving it so he could talk. “When I shot that puck at you, I didn’t know you were Austin’s sister.” He took a few quick breaths, trying to fight through the pain to talk. “He sure as hell let me know about it the next morning, though, and like I’ve told you before, guys have rules about sisters.”
She could still see the pain in his eyes, and though it was for a different reason, she was sure it matched her own. “Austin told you to stay away from me?”
He tried to smile, but winced instead. “Told is a nice way to put it. More like threatened the sanctity of my manhood if I ever looked in your direction again.”
Her breath caught in her throat at the thought. It would explain the sudden, drastic change in his disposition. He’d been so vibrant and flirty that night at the game, and so cold and distant the next day. Had it really been due to Austin, and some unwritten man code they all thought they had to follow?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, her tone cross.
He pulled the t-shirt down, revealing the gash across his nose that continued to bleed. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d even care.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, because he was wrong.
He was so very wrong.
“We need to find you some ice, or your nose is going to be the size of Sacramento at your press conference in the morning,” she said offhandedly, trying to ignore the foreign feeling stirring inside her.
“Leila.” His voice was deep, insinuating everything he needed to say in only the tone. He’d shared something with her, and now he wanted something in return.
“What do you want me to say, Henrik? That I was disappointed? Bitter? None of that changes anything,” she snapped, suddenly defensive.
He was too close to the truth, leading her down a path that would only end in heartache again. It didn’t matter why he’d treated her that way, just that he did, and—
“You’re right,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “It doesn’t change anything, except for what happens now. We can be friends, Leila. All we have to do is be honest with each other.”
“What else do you have left to be honest about?” she huffed, trying to keep the focus off her for as long as possible.
He pointed at her, half smiling. “I can see your bra through your tank top, and it’s distracting the hell out of me right now.”
Her eyes dropped down, and she saw he was right. The outline of her pink bra was clearly visible through her thin white tank. She looked up at him and glared.
He wiped his face with the t-shirt again, his smile widening. “Your turn.”
She frowned. Everything was a joke to him.
“Come on, Leila. Please—”
She felt him touch her elbow, gently and briefly. He was being careful with her now, worried he might trigger the wrong reaction. It was sweet, and she hated him for it.
“I was disappointed,” she barked out, refusing to look at him. “I was bitter and angry, and any other word that led to me hating you so I could pretend like you ignoring me hadn’t hurt my feelings.” She waited a moment, before swirling around to face him. “Happy now?”
He stared at her for a long moment, her admission hanging in the air. Blood trickled down his cheek onto his chin, but he didn’t notice. “You really mean that?” he asked finally, his eyes wide.
“Yes,” she sighed, too exhausted to deny it.
His blue eyes stilled, focusing with a determination she’d never witnessed before. “If I had known you felt that way,” he assured her with conviction that made a flash of heat rush through her veins, “I would have told Austin he could kiss my ass.”
She laughed, rolling her eyes, because she didn’t know how else to respond that didn’t involve her embarrassing herself. “You would have broken your man code for me?”
He stood, still grimacing. “I already did, remember?”
She pursed her lips, recalling their conversation in the hotel room. “I apologize for putting you in that position. I should have never—”
He stepped toward her, dropping the shirt at his feet before cupping his hands around her face, forcing her to look directly at him. “Don’t say that,” he said slowly. “You can hate me for saying yes if you want. I can live with that. But please, don’t regret it.”
Her gaze dropped to the ice, her heart aching. “I don’t. I can’t.”
She stood there silently, shocked by her own admission. As much as she wanted to pretend nothing happened, she wouldn’t take it back even if she could.
“Come here.”
When she looked up, his hand was held out to her again, and this time she didn’t pause, or think it through, but merely reacted. She stepped to him, his hands draping her hips. She involuntarily leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his back. She took in a deep, slow breath, enjoying the warmth of having his arms around her.
“You’re still not ready to talk about it, are you?”
She paused, realizing her voice was lost. She’d admitted too much already. She wanted this, just this, for a little while longer. It was selfish, but the peace she felt was irresistible.
“It’s okay.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I can wait. Just promise me that you’ll come to me when you are ready, because I want to listen.”
She didn’t answer, but she returned his embrace. They stood there like that for a long time, just the two of them on the edge of the pond, forming a silent bond of friendship she never thought could exist.
Chapter 15
HENRIK’S MISFORTUNE
Henrik lay on his bed, his eyes closed as the throbbing pain radiating from his nose coursed through the rest of his body. It hurt. It hurt like hell. He’d never admit it to Leila, though. She sat beside him, holding a dishrag full of ice to his face, fretting. “It’s getting worse,” she said, her voice dripping with guilt.
She’d ditched her coat and snatched one of her brother’s shirts to cover her tank top. “It will be fine,” he offered, though he couldn’t pretend that lying there, having her fuss over him for the past hour, wasn’t enjoyable. She got the cutest wrinkle between her eyes every time she looked at him.
“It’s broken, Henrik. I broke your nose.”
Her voice was shaky at best. He hated that she blamed herself for an accident. “It’s not the first time it’s been broken,” he tried, giving her his best attempt at a smile under the circumstances. “Remember that playoff game my rookie year?”
She quirked a brow at him. “Who said I watched your games before now?”
He laughed, and a sharp pain shot through his face.
Damn it.
“Yes, I remember it,” she admitted, half laughing as she repositioned the ice. “However, there is a big difference between getting your nose busted by a goon for being an insufferable idiot, and this.”
“So, I wasn’t being an insufferable idiot tonight?”
“You’re always an insufferable idiot.” Her smile was sweet. Sincere. “But I’m not a goon. I feel horrible.”
He opened both his eyes and leaned up on his elbow. Slowly reaching up, he touched the tip of his fingers to hers. “Who told you that you weren’t a goon?”
She sent a hard punch straight into his ribcage, laughing. “Asshole.”
He laughed too, even though it made everything hurt worse. “If it means we can be friends, then you can break my face every day.”
She pushed him back on the bed, repositioning his head on the pillow. “We’ll see,” she conceded, eyeing his nose again. “It’s hard to tell you no when you look like Jabba the Hutt.”
He grinned, but it was worth it.
“What the hell happened?” a voice bellowed, vibrating the walls around them. Henrik looked around Leila to find Austin and Drew standing in the doorway, panic plaguing their faces. “We just got your text.”
He sat back up, offering them a full on view of the damage. Drew shook his head in disapproval. “Better question is what did you do to deserve that?”
“Leila,” Austin groaned, moving Drew to the side to rush over to the bed. “You broke my captain.”
“I didn’t break him,” she offered, frowning as she shuffled the ice in her hands. “Just his nose, most likely.”
Drew made a noise of disgust as he joined Austin at the side of the bed. “Again—what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Henrik complained, darting a quick glance at Austin. “It was an accident.”
“It’s true.” Leila gently urged him to lie back down, her hand guiding his head as if he might shatter any moment. “We were playing hockey on your uncle’s pond, and—”
“Wait.” Drew immediately stepped around Austin. “He took you to Gus’s pond?”
The Girl With Hearts (Midtown Brotherhood #1) Page 11