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The day before Aurora is discharged, the new owner calls a meeting. Coaches, trainers, players,everyonearrives at the arena, and we meet the club’s new boss…
Theodore Alistair.
The name sounds vaguely familiar, until Jacob elbows me and mutters something about him being Melody’s best friend’s husband.
He’s in his thirties. Well-fucking-dressed. He doesn’t say much, just a quick word about leaving us in our coach’s good hands, then goes around and introduces himself personally to everyone. He gives Jacob and I an extra eyebrow raise, which should make me suspicious but instead just brings a smile to my face.
When Jacob and I told Melody, she snorted and told us she knew already.
“Did you redecorate?”
I focus on Aurora. “What?”
She motions around vaguely. The couch is in a new spot, yes. Because I wanted to be able to lie on it and see the front door. For no other reason than insane paranoia. Which meant I had to move the television. And that required some rewiring, so I had an electrician out. Then the walls needed to be patched, and if they’re patching, it may as well get a new coat of paint…
“Yeah, it just needed a change.”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, we’re inside. Put me down.”
I do. Carefully. Her face scrunches up, and her dad frowns. But she ignores us and shuffles to the couch, slowly lowering herself down with her hand on her ribs.
“I’m really okay,” she says.
“Your face is black and blue,” I mumble.
If that asshole wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him again.
I get us all drinks. Water and painkillers for Aurora, whiskey for me and her father. One of those seltzer things for Ashley. We join Aurora, and Ashley finds something to watch.
The thing I realized in the last week, waiting for the doctors to clear her for discharge, is that quality time beats every other type of love. I would rather sit with her and talk about anything and everything—and I do meaneverything—than, say, have her tell me how good I am in bed.
Wait.
No, actually, I think I’d like that, too.
“Knox.”
I focus on Aurora.
“You have a game tomorrow.”
I frown. “Yeah. I already told you that I’m sitting out?—”
“Dad, Ashley, and I are going to it. So you may as well play,” she says. “It’s a home game. Jacob talked to your coach, you’re fine to return as long as you go to morning practice.”
She shifts forward, and I jump up. I help her to her feet.
“I could,” I hedge. “But I think I’d better just stay here?—”
“We won’t be here,” she argues. “Stay here. Sit.”
I let out a sigh. She returns with my freaking hockey bag in one hand, dragging it a bit, and my two sticks in her other hand.
“Aurora—”
“Stop,” she hisses. She sits back down and finds the tape, wincing until she’s leaned back. “You tape it wrong anyway.”
I scoff. “I tape it like you.”
