Page 42 of Flashback for the Forward

So Cole continued to blow my world apart with more words.

“If you want to be more active, that’s fine. I’ll help even. We can start easy with walks on the beach and work our way up to weight training and cardio in my home gym. But I’m begging you not to starve yourself; that’s not a healthy way to make a change.”

A single tear slid down my cheek.

I didn’t deserve this man, but somehow he was sitting opposite me, steadfast and strong enough to steady me when I stumbled—which seemed to be all I was doing these days.

Chair legs scraped against the tile flooring as Cole stood, rounding the edge of the table and extending a hand toward my bowl. “May I?”

My stomach decided to answer for me with a loud grumble. We both laughed at the sound, the mood sufficiently lightened.

In less than a week, Cole had exuded more genuine warmth than Aiden had in the past three years combined.

But it was a damn shame I couldn’t enjoy it, too busy looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Because it always did.

Chapter 13

Bridget

Arizona had offered to keep me company this evening during the Surf’s home game. When I protested that I didn’t want her to stay home on my account, she explained that she and the kids didn’t normally attend on school nights. But still, I declined.

Yes, the dark made me nervous, but I was determined to conquer my fear. Even if all I took was baby steps—a few hours alone before Cole’s return.

And technically, I wasn’t completely alone. I had Cinder to keep me company.

The little furball had quickly become my best bud. He followed me around the house, rubbing against my leg as I worked to earn my keep, and anytime I sat down, he curled up on my lap. Running my hand down his soft back to elicit his melodic purrs worked wonders, soothing my frayed nerves as the sun slid below the horizon.

I hadn’t watched hockey since Bennett died. At first, because it was too painful a reminder of the brother I’d lost. And later, because Aiden had complete control over the TV and his sport of choice was football. But when the pre-game show began, the commentary provided familiarity, the comfort of it making me feel as if I were being wrapped in a warm blanket.

Growing up, I spent more time inside a rink than I did at home. Weeknights were for practice, where many a dinner was served by the concession stand and my allowance was spent on the arcade games in the lobby. Weekends meant traveling to tournaments out of town, bundled up against the chill during games, wreaking havoc on the hotel pool and playing mini sticks in between.

My fondest childhood memories revolved around the sport my brother had dedicated his too-short life to.

By all outward appearances, Bennett was my favorite player on whatever team he happened to be playing on. Only me and one other person in this entire world knew I was secretly his best friend’s biggest fan.

“What’s this?” I lifted the bundle of fabric Cole had thrust into my arms.

He huffed out a laugh. “What does it look like?”

Unfolding the garment, I pretended to inspect it before replying, “It looks like a SoCal Breezers jersey. But as you can plainly see”—I gestured a hand down my torso—“I already have one.”

With a twirl of his index finger, he commanded, “Do a little twirl for me, beautiful.”

Obeying, I spun around, eliciting a displeased grumble from Cole.

“The one you’re wearing has the wrong name on the back.”

I propped one hand on my hip. “It’s my name.”

“For now.”

Arching one eyebrow, I challenged, “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm.” He looped an arm around my waist. “Someday your last name is going to be Astor, so you should get used to wearing it.”

My heart did a little flip inside my chest, and try as I might, I couldn’t maintain a cool façade, letting out a girlish squeal of delight, my hips doing a little shimmy.