“Kick his trash, babe,” Zane whispered against her ear before kissing her cheek.
“Zamboni style,” she confirmed with a nod.
It was a glorious thing to behold, once they got inside, had their table set, and were each in possession of handfuls of tokens. Mara’s more competitive side—which, as it happened, rivaled any of the hockey players’—led to a Pac-Man tournament with most of the guys, which she won in the end. Hope had somehow managed to secure a tiara for herself and rotated among various games and activities.
Rally-Kats was the perfect place for her. Lit by the gaming screens, blacklights, and a ceiling strewn with strings of neon lights that winked brighter in a pattern set to the music pumping through the speakers, it was both mysterious and magical. The place was fairly crowded, but there were enough gaming stations for all, including some very Hope-geared, sparkle-encased ones that scared him beyond belief.
“Dance-off!” His daughter squealed when she caught sight of it, twirling in her white and pink tutu skirt she had specifically picked out for her birthday. “Mara! Mara, Mara, can we do it?”
Mara laughed, tucking her long T-shirt into the back of her jeans. “Sure, sweetie. Let’s hit it!” She held her hand out, and Hope snatched it at once, racing off towards the glittering disco floor of the machine.
Zane watched them do the steps of the dances, leaning against a pinball machine and grinning without reserve. It was hard to tell who was having more fun; Mara seemed to laugh just as much as Hope, and both of them were reaching successive levels with their scores.
This was what every birthday should be like for his daughter. Full of laughter and fun, not disappointing voicemails and changing plans.
“I like her.”
Zane turned to see Bree coming up beside him. “Who, Hope? Yeah, she’s great.”
Bree gave him a look, shaking her head. “Mara.”
“I know.” He smiled and returned his attention to the dancing. “She’s incredible. Real. Perfect, even.”
“No one’s perfect, Zane,” Bree reminded him gently.
He nodded but didn’t say anything. He knew that; he had proof of that. His once-perfect woman had turned into a heartbreaking nightmare, and it had taken him this long to recover enough to try a serious relationship again. But what he felt for Mara was so much more than anything he’d had with Michelle. Mara wasn’t perfect; what he felt for Mara was perfect.
What they had together was perfect.
And that was terrifying. Exhilarating, but terrifying.
Straightening, Zane exhaled and turned to Bree. “Whac-A-Mole, Bree?”
She obliged him, losing with good graces, only to then crush him at Skee-Ball in retaliation. Rocco spent his time racking up points in the racing game while Declan focused on his target shooting, both of them collecting dozens of tickets, making every ten-year-old in the place insanely jealous.
It was just as hard to pull them away from their games as it was to get Hope away, even for something as delicious and motivating as pizza could be. The dining area was slightly better lit than the arcade area, and somehow they managed to squeeze their entire group into a corner booth. Presents for Hope were produced, some even wrapped, and Zane shook his head at the expense of some of them.
“Oh, come on, man!” he protested when Hope opened a full makeup kit from Rocco that made the birthday girl scream with glee. “Seriously?”
“Not your birthday, Dad.” Rocco gave him a superior look as Hope smothered him with hugs and kisses. “It’s from Summer, too. She says hi.”
“That’s worse than the karaoke machine! Which, by the way, I’m also not okay with.” He glared at Clint at this.
Clint was also unimpressed. “Don’t be a killjoy.” He slid a plate with a large slice of pepperoni pizza over to him. “Shut up and eat your pizza.”
“That’s not a nice word, Uncle Clint,” Hope announced, her expression turning disapproving.
The guys ate that up, and Declan leaned closer to Hope. “What’s the punishment for that, princess? You decide.”
Hope looked at Clint through narrowed eyes, and Zane decided he had never been more proud of his daughter in his entire life than at that moment.
She stunned the table by plucking her tiara from her head and passing it across the table. “Wear my tiara and sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me by yourself.”
Scratch that. Now he had never been more proud of his daughter.
The table erupted with cheers and laughter, egging Clint on with great enthusiasm. He was a good sport, put on the tiara, and, after a fantastic drumroll from the group, did the job well. Then he followed it up by challenging every guy at the table to a match at the air hockey table he had seen to one side of the arcade games, shockingly free of users at the moment.
Even Hope had cheered at that, once she’d reclaimed her tiara, and their booth cleared, pizza remains abandoned, for the sake of the new challenge.
Clint and Declan were up first; their trash talk attracted a few spectators, if their competitive natures didn’t. Zane led the charge in taunting both of them, keeping his language and his tone tamer than he would have on the ice, given their location and the age of the birthday girl vying for the best vantage point for the game. Their excitement didn’t seem to match their surroundings, but none of them seemed to care about that.
Hockey was hockey, and they gave it their all.
The game ended in a shootout, and each of them gave Hope a turn to take the shot, letting her score each time, to her delight.
Rocco and Jax were the next game, and their energy drew an actual crowd, which was no surprise. Jax was the hometown hero, despite the entire gang being from Chicago, and it didn’t take long for people to realize he was with his friends. Sides were chosen among the onlookers, and Zane shook his head with a laugh as he saw money being exchanged by a few.
Someone brushed against him, and Zane turned, surprised that Mara was edging closer, her attention not on the game. “Zane . . .”
“What?” He followed her gaze and saw some teens recording the game on their phones and at least three others typing away on theirs, clearly invested in the game as well as their messages.
Strange, what was so exciting about grown men getting into air hockey?
“It’s Jax,” Zane assured her gently, pulling her into his side. “He’s a big deal here. It’s okay.”
Mara didn’t look convinced, and to be honest, Zane wasn’t that convinced either.
The further the game went, the more the crowd grew. Chants for Rocco were heard, but more people were there for Jax. There were full-on cheers with every goal and block, enough that even Zane was getting jostled by onlookers wanting to see.
He frowned, biting the inside of his cheek. Then he nudged the guy next to him, one of the phone-typers. “What’s going on?”
“Dude, it’s Jax and his Northbrook gang,” came the excited reply. “They were in town for this thing, it was on the news, and now they’re here just playing around. It’s some girl’s birthday, someone said, and it’s all over Twitter, look.” He showed Zane his phone, where several tweets with the hashtag #NorthbrookChallenge were scrolling.
Zane’s stomach dropped. The challenge had been one of their earliest attempts at bringing attention to the club a few months ago, but it had taken the sports world by storm. It had only recently stopped trending, as the videos of new challenges had dropped off significantly.
Now it was back, given that these Northbrook guys were challenging each other. And the crowd was growing.
The guy finally looked up at him, and his eyes widened. “Dude! You’re . . . you’re Zamboni! Holy crap, can I get a selfie?”
“Daddy?” Hope’s scared voice broke through the noise, and there was a beat of near silence in the crowd at hearing it.
Zane looked at his daughter, fear and realization hitting at the same time.
“Happy birthday!” someone from the crowd called, noting Hope’s tiara and proximit
y to the table, or perhaps that her hand was in Trane’s. Whatever it was, it sent the rest of the crowd reaching for their phones, the ones already out snapping photos.
Something in Zane snapped, and he turned to the nearest phone pointing at his daughter, snatching it from the hands of its owner and chucking it across the room.
Chaos erupted, and a few faces of reporters Zane had seen at their event earlier were now seen in the crowd, inching their way towards the air hockey table and Hope.
“Jax!” Zane bellowed as he dodged a blow from his robbery victim.
Jax met his eyes at once, the same fury evident in his face, and he nodded without question. He picked up Hope and, using Trane as a bouncer, shield, and battering ram, forced his way through the crowd. Zane took an elbow to the stomach then, and he wheezed painfully before turning to slam the guy into the gate-like railing nearby.
The crash of breaking glass could be heard, and over the din, a few employees tried to call out instructions to the fighters that were ignored.
“Zane!”
He whirled at Mara’s cry, wincing as he caught someone else’s blow across his cheek. Mara was getting pushed back towards the dining area amid the chaos, and her fear was evident. He shook his head, charging through the people and shoving some aside to get to her.
“You’re bleeding!” Mara gasped when he reached her, touching his now-tender cheek.
“Whatever. Come on.” He took her hand, tucking her behind him as he tried to move them towards the door.
“Running from a fight, Zamboni?” someone taunted from the crowd. “Some party.”
“Who’s the girl, Z?” another called.
A roaring sound answered both, and Zane almost swore as he saw Trane all out punch someone in the face, a phone flying in the direction of the arcade windows seconds after. Then an expensive-looking camera crashed to the floor, and sirens could be heard.
Now Zane did swear. He looked around, Mara’s hand still in his, and found Clint reaching them, Bree close behind. “We gotta get out of here,” he told Clint. “Or at least get the girls out. I’ll handle the cops, pay for any damages.”
Clint shook his head, a hand going to Zane’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. We’re good, Rocco’s gonna handle the cops, and Diesel and Dice have cleanup. Let’s go.”
Zane nodded, his concern for his daughter outweighing any sense of guilt for leaving. The four of them headed out to the parking lot and were in their cars driving away before anyone said anything else.
The car was silent on the drive to the hotel. It was all Zane could do not to floor it and ignore all speed limits and traffic signals. If he had been by himself, he would have done it, but with a shaken Mara with him . . .
“Is it always like that?” Mara whispered.
Zane shook his head. “No. But . . .” He exhaled roughly. “If any of our teams get hot, go to the playoffs, if we’re in the wrong crowd . . . and with us hyping ourselves out for Northbrook . . .”
“So it could get like that, is what you’re saying.”
“Not like that,” he assured her, jerking his thumb towards the arcade. “That was a mob.”
Mara didn’t seem to hear him, her eyes focused straight ahead.
He didn’t like her blank expression, the complete lack of emotion, or the fact that he had no idea what she was thinking when he had been able to tell so well only an hour ago.
“Mara.”
“Let’s just check on Hope,” she murmured without looking at him. “It’s going to be a late night.”
There was no telling what she could mean by that, and quite frankly, Zane was afraid to ask. She didn’t sound like herself, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. A brawl on the ice was one thing, but a brawl in real life? At a birthday party?
Zane didn’t have it in him to respond, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d seen Jax leave with Hope, or what time that had been, but the need to hold his daughter had never been this powerful in his life. Her terrified cry would haunt him tonight, and possibly every other night for the foreseeable future.
His phone buzzed, and his attention went to it where it sat in the cupholder. He sighed heavily at the message. “Hope’s with Jax in his room watching a movie. He says she’s okay.”
Mara’s head turned as she looked out of her window. “Good.”
The hotel was before them soon enough, and Zane strode into it with long strides, Mara right behind him. The elevator ride was as silent as the car had been, and as they walked down the hall to Jax’s room, the strangest sense of unease filled him. Not danger, but something that made him feel like he was coiling up or bracing for impact.
He knocked on Jax’s door when they reached it, and Jax was quick to open up and let them in, his finger at his lips. “She just passed out on the bed. Total sugar coma, didn’t even make it halfway through the movie.”
Zane nodded and crept towards the bedroom portion of the suite. Tiara still on her head, Hope lay curled on the bed, clutching a huge purple teddy bear, whatever fear she’d felt earlier completely gone.
“Where’d that thing come from?” Zane asked, turning to raise a brow at Jax.
“What do you think we did with all of our tickets?” His friend grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets and shrugging. “It’s her birthday, man.”
The events of the night suddenly caught up with him, and Zane sank onto the couch nearby, rubbing his hands over his face. “Thanks for getting her out of there, J,” he rasped, looking over at Jax. “I couldn’t have gotten to her that fast, and . . .”
“Stop,” Jax interrupted with a shake of his head. “If you think there’s a guy among us who would do anything less, you’re crazy.”
Zane nodded, swallowing hard. “How bad is it going to be?” he asked in a low voice.
“Diesel just called, it’s already wrapped up.” Jax sat next to him on the couch, rubbing his hands together. “Cops understand, they’re making some inquiries, but we’re all in the clear. Rally-Kats isn’t going to press charges. Social media is blowing up, though.”
“I was afraid of that.” Zane pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “What are they saying?”
“Lots of speculation about who said ‘Daddy’ in all of that mess, and whose party it was.” Jax hissed slowly, shaking his head. “Rumors flying that she’s Diesel’s kid, actually.”
“Great. It’ll make the rounds for all of us. I’m sorry, J, I’ll put out a statement, clear you guys from the gossip . . .”
Jax gripped his shoulder hard, silencing him. “Did you hear me, Zane? All of us would have gotten Hope out of there or taken on the whole room. None of us care about people thinking Hope is ours. We’d all claim her if we had to, and we’re all going to protect her. Don’t say another word about it. Okay?”
There were no words for that, and Zane just lowered his head, the weight of his emotions almost overpowering him. Jax gave his shoulder another squeeze before rising from the couch and stepping away into another room of the suite, quietly answering a call.
“Zane?”
Mara’s soft voice raised his head. “Yeah, babe?”
Her smile was soft, tired, and almost sad. “I’m gonna go.”
He nodded, sniffing once. “Yeah, it’s pretty late. You need to get some sleep.” He stood up with a sigh.
Mara shook her head, stopping him, her throat working on a swallow. “No, Zane. I’m gonna go. Back home. Tonight.”
He blinked. “What? Baby, you can’t, it’s late, and you just got here. We’ve got another day tomorrow, and tonight . . .” He took a step towards her, hand outstretched. “Tonight wasn’t . . .”
“It’s not about tonight,” she interrupted gently, holding up a restraining hand and staying where she was. “It’s about us.”
Zane’s entire body froze, and his breath seized up. “What’s wrong with us?”
Mara’s eyes shone with tear
s that almost buckled his knees. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong with us. We are amazing. We are intense and deep, and this whole thing is so much more than I ever thought it would be.”
He stared at her, barely moving. “It scares you.”
“To death,” she said with a nod. “Zane . . . I love you.”
Three little words. Just three words, and ones that should have lit into him like fire but instead sunk a weight into his stomach, anchoring him to the floor. “Mara . . .”
“I love you,” she repeated, the words faster this time. “And it is so fast for me to say that. Doesn’t make it less true or less real, it’s just a lot. All of this is a lot. And I need to be sure.” She swallowed again, her eyes somehow steady on his even though he could see her shaking. “You deserve to have me be sure.”
“I’m sure,” he managed, his throat aching with the words. “I love you. I love you so much, Mara, and this is it.”
“I hope so.” She smiled at him, but the smile made something in his heart crack. “I really hope so. I want this to be it. But that game the other night, and being here with you, and celebrating with Hope . . .” She shook her head, wetting her lips. “Honey, you need me to be sure. To be all in. Hope deserves someone in her life that is sure she’s all in. I can’t take a chance on that. And you don’t want me to.”
Agony began to wring his entire frame like a rag, and his chest tightened with it. “Mara, please . . .”
She sniffled and took a step back. “I’m not leaving you. I just need time. It would be best if you don’t message me for a bit.”
“Don’t cut me out of your life.” He shook his head, his eyes burning in synchrony with his throat. “Please . . .”
“I’m practically addicted to you, Zane,” Mara admitted. “It will be so easy to just give in to you if we stay in touch.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” This couldn’t be happening, not here, not now, not with them . . .
Mara exhaled slowly, her lips curving into a tender smile that would surely kill him. “You deserve more than that. And so does the sweet girl in that room. If this is it, Zane, it will happen. I’m not giving up. I’m just making sure.”
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