by Toni Aleo
Her smile is full of warmth as she asks, “Do you have anyone special in your life? I was sorry to hear about your divorce.”
Chandler shakes his head, a rueful look on his face. “Believe me, that was for the best. And no, I don’t. Haven’t been able to get that someone special to go out with me.” His eyes meet mine for a split second before he reaches for his glass of wine.
Mom looks at me, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Well, that’s too bad. You’re a catch.”
Chandler smiles. “Thanks, Mrs. Justice.”
She’s still grinning, and for the first time since she’s been here, I want to throw something at her. “You know, Amelia is—” When her phone sounds, I almost cry out in relief. I do not need that can of worms opened at dinner. She reaches for it and makes a face. “Darn it, excuse me. It’s work, and I have to answer since I haven’t been there the last few days.”
Mom gets up and heads into her bedroom, leaving me alone with Chandler.
Our eyes lock, and I smile. “She’s crazy.”
“She’s the best,” he says softly, holding his glass between his fingers as he swirls the wine in it. His eyes are so dark, so beautiful as they hold mine. “Miss work?”
“Not at all,” I laugh as I pick apart a piece of garlic bread. “I’m thinking about quitting.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You should go work at a gym—if you need to work.”
“Maybe, I don’t know. I feel like they wouldn’t want me.” His brows draw in, and I shrug. “You know, because I dropped out of school and basically threw away a scholarship.”
“They don’t need to know that,” he says simply. “They’ll look up your scores, and they’ll hire you on the spot.”
My lip twitches with a grin. “You think so?”
“I know so. You were one of the best. Anyone would love to have you coach their kids.”
“Thanks,” I say bashfully, and he tips his glass to me.
“Anytime.”
Anytime. Why do I love the way he says that?
“So, Ryan called you?”
“Yup,” he says with a nod. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to know that.”
“I would have. Makes sense why you’ve been stalking me,” I tease.
He scoffs. “I’m not trying to be around you because of that. I want to see you for me.”
“So that’s why you came to check on me?”
“Yup, I was worried about you.”
Our gazes stay locked as we both sip our wine. “You don’t have to be.”
“Well, I am.”
I am convinced I am on fire. I almost want to check, but I can’t seem to break eye contact even if I wanted to. He has me trapped, and in a way, I’m okay with that. I clear my throat, and I know I need to change the subject. “I didn’t know you were adopted.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah, my biological dad ran out on my biological mom, and apparently, she was also a crackhead. She didn’t take care of me, and the state took me. She gave up her rights, and then my mom and dad came to the rescue.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
“Yeah, I’m very lucky. I was really underweight and had a lazy eye. I was sick all the time, but my mom and dad did whatever they could to make it better. They got me into therapy, had my eye fixed, and did everything to help me soar. My dad put me in hockey as a way to get out my aggression because I was a really angry child. I was still so mad at my birth parents that I felt like no one wanted me. I learned quickly that my mom and dad wanted me more than they wanted anything in the world.”
My heart breaks for the child he was. “My goodness, Chandler, that’s so wonderful.”
He sends me a wide grin. “I don’t think I would know what love is if it weren’t for my mom and dad. I sure as hell wouldn’t be the man I am today without them. So yeah, they follow me around and they always have something to say, but I don’t mind. I love them, and obviously, they were sent to give me a good life.”
My eyes water a bit. “You’re very lucky.”
His eyes are soft as he says, “So are you.”
I look down at my plate and shrug. “I haven’t felt lucky lately.”
“That’s ’cause you won’t let yourself. I think if you do, you’ll realize you’re pretty damn lucky and could be happy.”
We share a long look, and then my mom comes out of the bedroom. “I’m so sorry. What did I miss?”
“Nothing much. Just chatting.”
She smiles happily. “Well, include me!”
The conversation is so easy between us three. Chandler fits in wonderfully, and I find I’m having a great time. I’ve smiled more around him than I have in years. It’s scary yet refreshing. After clearing the table, I offer the bottle of wine to Chandler, but he holds up his hand. “As much as I hate to say this, I gotta go. I have morning skate and then a game. So I can’t be out drinking and partying with you two all night.”
Mom complains, “Well, darn, I’m heading out tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ll see you at the wedding, right?”
“Yes,” she says, wrapping her arms around him, and they hug tightly.
I wipe my hands with a towel before tucking them into my pockets. “I’ll walk you out.”
His grin tells me he likes my offer. After calling Sadie, we head outside and down the walkway. Sadie runs ahead and jumps up into the truck through the window.
“Wow.”
“I really need to put her in the dog Olympics,” Chandler jokes, and I smile.
“She’d win.”
“Right?”
We both look away at the same time, but my body hums for his.
“Thanks for coming and checking on me.”
He looks over at me, folding his arms over his chest. “Anytime.” His eyes darken a bit. “If I had your number, I wouldn’t need to make house calls.”
I laugh softly. “Maybe I wanted you to come over.”
He licks his lips, sending jolts of heat through my body. “Maybe… Yeah, no maybe about it, I really want your number.”
I fight back my grin as I look up at him shyly. “You got your phone?”
He quickly yanks it out of his pocket, and I give him my number. When he’s done programming it, he holds it up to me. With my name, it says, The Most Beautiful Girl in the World.
“You’re laying it on thick.”
“You love it,” he teases as he starts walking backward. I want to stop him, ask him for a hug, but I can’t. I shouldn’t. Why did I even give him my number? It’s his fault. His cute grins and dark eyes distracted me from the fact that I shouldn’t be entertaining this. “I’ll text you.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks for dinner.”
“Glad you came over,” I say, and he sends me a grin as he gets into the truck. Before he drives off, he looks over at me one last time. I feel nothing but butterflies in my stomach as he waves.
“See ya.”
“Bye.”
He drives off, and crap, I wish he would come back. I let out a sharp exhale and head inside. At the door, my mom waits.
“Well?”
I bring my brows in. “Well, what?”
“He would be wonderful for you.”
“He’s just a friend.”
“He is smitten with you,” she announces as she follows me into the kitchen. “He’d be a great guy to get over Drew with. He would treat you right, and you’d have fun.”
“Mom, I’m over Drew, believe me.”
“Well then, maybe it’s time to move on.”
I shake my head as I finish off my wine. “I’m going to bed. You’re giving me a headache.”
She scoffs. “You know I’m right.”
“I don’t. Ryan would flip, and I’m not ready.”
“Ryan is so obsessed with Sofia, he wouldn’t care. We only want you to be happy,” she insists, but I don’t agree. “Amelia, baby, you are ready. You just won’t let yourself
be.” That’s almost the same thing Chandler said.
“Good night, Mom.” I hug her tightly and kiss her cheek.
“I worry for you—”
“I’m great,” I say, backing away.
“Amelia—”
“I’ll see you in the morning.” I head to my room.
When I shut the door, I lean against it. I close my eyes, letting my head fall back. She thinks I’m still hung up on Drew, and I’m honestly not. I’m glad to be away from him, and I’m thankful I made it out. I told her he had cheated because I can’t ever tell her the truth. She’d tell Uncle Shea and then Ryan. They’d skin him alive, and I just don’t need that stress. I need Drew completely out of my life, and rehashing the past won’t achieve that.
When my phone vibrates in my shorts, I reach for it, lifting it up to see Chandler’s name.
Chandler: Is it too early to text? Should I have waited three days?
Don’t answer him. Just ignore it. I know what answering will mean, and I don’t know if I want to do that. A text bubble comes up and then another text.
Chandler: I can’t wait.
Chandler: I had a great time tonight. I want to do it again.
I blink, staring at his words, and then my fingers are moving along the keyboard.
Well, here we go.
Me: Do you now?
Chandler: Yup. And you want to too.
Me: I do?
Chandler: Yup and you know it’s true.
It is. Damn it.
Chapter Nine
Chandler
I hate playing the Ducks.
They’re ruthless and, sometimes, a bit dirty. It’s all for the love, to get the W. I get that. But shit, can they not throw their elbows into my damn jaw? Also, can the refs get some damn glasses or something? Shit. I reach for my bottle of Gatorade and squirt it into my mouth, wanting to press it against my jaw for some cool relief. Fucking asshole. I don’t even know who it was; they got me and skated away.
As I watch our defensemen fight off their offense, I can’t believe how great Nico is playing. He’s basically a brick wall out there. I don’t know how we got so lucky to snatch him up from the farm team, but thank God for him. Like I said, the Ducks are ruthless, shooting from every angle, at every moment, but between Nico’s goaltending and our defense, we’ve fought them off. Thankfully. I inhale deeply as our offense takes it up the ice. Duncan has the puck, and instead of leaving it at the line, he carries it in. He hits his winger, who passes it back to Clancy, and he shoots. The goalie fights it and then clears out the zone by the Ducks.
Good for us, bad for them. Our boys come for a change, a new line for offense and defense. I jump over the boards when my pair is called. My buddy Dickie Kurri skates beside me as we get into place.
“The tendy is weak on the left. Someone needs to get their Twiggy on the rebound.”
I nod to him and pass the message off to our forwards, Polutin and Meraskic. They both acknowledge me, and when Polutin wins the puck, he passes it to Kurri, who is waiting for the one-timer. He shoots, right where he said he would, and like he said, a rebound is right there. But the Duck clears it.
Right onto my stick.
I carry it in as Meraskic comes back, covering me while I move around the defensemen with force. I pass it back to Polutin, who snaps it to Kurri. As before, he is ready for the one-timer and hits the left side once more. The puck comes off the goalie’s left pad, but this time, he’s laid out, giving me one hell of an open net. I lift the puck up with a sick wrister, and when the red light comes on, I throw my hands up in the air.
The boys wrap me up, and I yell out, “Let’s go!”
“What a juicy rebound!” Kurri yells.
“So damn juicy,” I agree as we skate back to the bench, smacking gloves with our teammates. We needed that goal. There was too much back-and-forth going on and no scoring. For the next few minutes, we fight to keep them off the board but also to score another one to put the game away. Or so we hope. With hockey, you never know. You could be up three, and the other team could come back and score. That’s the game. That’s why I love it. It’s such a high. Such a complicated and rewarding sport.
Almost like Amelia.
Her smile makes me feel a high I’ve never felt before. Not even being on the ice can come close to that smile of hers. Boy, is she complicated. She’s so hot and cold, I don’t know what I’ll get day to day. She texted me the night I had dinner with her and her mom but then didn’t the next day. To save my pride, I only texted her once, and I plan to text her after the game. We’ll see what happens, but man, I want her.
When the buzzer signals the end of the game, I’m relieved. A shutout for Nico and a game-winner for me—that’s a damn good night.
A text from Amelia would make it a billion times better.
The bus ride to the hotel is full of chatter and excitement. We like winning, as does every other team. With this win, though, we’re with the top teams in the league. It’s a good feeling. We’ve never been this high on the leaderboards before. Maybe this year is different. I don’t know, but I’m excited to find out.
I pull out my phone from my suit jacket and click on Amelia’s name. As I type out a message, Nico asks, “Is the beard a thing now? Are you keeping it?”
I look over at my friend and laugh. “Yeah, I like it.”
“It’s odd.”
I drop my phone into my lap before I’m able to hit Send. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I’m used to you being so clean and crisp. I’m the dirty guy. You’re supposed to be the clean one.”
I look at him incredulously. “You make absolutely no sense.”
Nico laughs as I pick my phone back up and hit Send. I feel Nico looking over my shoulder, and before I can hide my phone, he goes, “Jesus, you’re still trying?”
I roll my eyes. “Shut it before I find someone else to sit next to.”
He laughs as my phone vibrates in my hand.
Me: Done ignoring me?
Amelia: omg. I’m sorry. I suck. I was at work when you texted, and then I forgot to answer you back.
Me: Nice to know you aren’t thinking about me.
She sends the eye-rolling emoji, and I smile down at my phone, watching her text bubble.
Amelia: For your information, the espresso machine exploded on me when I was about to answer you back. I was so caught up in that that I went home and fell face first in the bed.
Me: So you do think of me?
Amelia: Maybe.
I chuckle softly as the bus comes to a stop.
Me: How was your day?
As I file out with the guys, I wait for her response.
Amelia: Dumb. I am really starting to hate the coffee shop, and my boss won’t hire anyone to help out. I get spurts of crazy customers, and then it’s really tedious to tell people left and right we don’t have pot brownies.
Me: Well, in everyone’s defense, the place does look like a stoner spot.
Amelia: Exactly! So, put up a sign that says we aren’t. Jeez.
“Hey, Moon, you coming to the bar?”
I look up at Kurri as Nico heads to the left with them. “Not tonight. I’ve got something going on.”
Nico scoffs. “She’s actually talking to you today?”
“Hey, Nico,” I call, and he grins. “Fuck off.”
Everyone laughs at that as I head toward the elevators, my fingers moving over the keyboard. All I hear is my mom in my head—don’t text and walk, you can get hurt. But it is what it is. I haven’t spoken to Amelia in two days. I can run into a wall and still be okay as long as she’s talking.
Me: I still think you should quit.
Amelia: I’m getting there.
Amelia: How was your day?
I hit my floor number and then lean back on the elevator wall.
Me: Good. Did you watch the game? I scored the winning goal.
Amelia: Awesome! Way to go! But no, I didn’t watch.
Me: Y
ou’re failing me, Justice.
Amelia: My bad. Did you just get back to the hotel?
Me: Yup, and I blew off my friends to talk to you.
Amelia: Well, doesn’t that make a girl feel special?
Me: Good, ’cause you are.
As I reach my room, I put my card into the slot and open it as I type with one hand.
Me: Question.
My room is small. Two beds, one for me and one for Kurri. All our crap is spread all over the floor, and I know I need to pack since we’re heading out early in the morning, but instead, I lie back in the bed, holding the phone up.
Amelia: Yes?
Me: Why did you delete all your social media? How am I supposed to admire you from afar when I can’t even see your gorgeous face?
Amelia: LOL you’re insane.
Amelia: You mean stalk, right?
Amelia: But I deleted it ’cause it became too much, and I also didn’t want any way for anyone to find me.
Me: Understandable, but what about me?
Amelia: What about you?
Me: I want to see that gorgeous face.
Amelia: Well, that’s an issue since you’re wherever you are and I’m here.
Me: California. That’s where I am.
Amelia: Oh, okay.
I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t. I don’t know what to do about that. I want so many things, but I also want to respect her space. Her needs. I swallow hard before I type out my next message.
Me: Can we FaceTime?
A text bubble comes up then disappears. This happens four more times, basically putting me on edge until, finally, one word appears.
Amelia: Yes.
Amelia: But I’m a hot mess.
I didn’t really even read the last text as I click her name and then the FaceTime button. It rings a few times as I sit up, holding the phone so I don’t have nine chins. While her stunning blue eyes steal every breath I have, a grin spreads over my mouth.
“Mess? Please. Perfection is more like it.”
Amelia rolls her eyes, leaning her chin on her hand as she looks back at me. “I just got out of the shower and haven’t even blow-dried my hair.”
Shower. Naked. Amelia. Fuuuuccckk…
And my cock is letting it be known that he likes that very much…