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“Look, I know you’re not into me. And I’m not pushing for something that isn’t there. But I thought we could be friends. You know, since ourfriends are friends.”
That niggle of guilt I’ve been experiencing is incinerated by the red-hot rage boiling up inside me. Friends? After everything he did, he’s trying to befriends? “Are you for real right now?”
But even before he answers me, I see it.
This guy absolutely is for real.
He has no idea why I’ve been such a monumental bitch. No idea why I’m taking a blowtorch to every olive branch he extends.
And as if Quinn O’Brian hasn’t made me feel crappy enough… Now I feel even worse.
“Never mind. Just forget it.”
I pay for the beers and take them back to the table where Nat’s sitting in Vaughn’s lap, chatting with Popov and Vsev about the 12U girls’ team she coaches. Congratulating the guys on their game, I set the bottles down, look at the empty seat waiting for me and then across the bar to where Quinn is talking to a couple of fans in Slayers gear, his eyes still on me.
I’ve had it. “Hate to bail, but I’m wiped. You guys drink these and I’ll see you around.”
Chapter 4
Quinn
When Vassar told me where he was heading tonight, I was more than a little surprised to learn this is how he likes to spend his downtime. The guy isn’t exactly the snuggly type, so kids don’t seem the most natural fit. But then he went and did that creepy thing where he busts out the smile that’s mostly myth and legend, and I had to come.
I’m glad I did, because watching these kids’ faces light up when we came out on the ice with them was like a balm for my soul. There weren’t any camera crews. No one shouting directions about adjusting lighting or barking about timetables. This was about the kids and the sport they love and being a part of something kind of magical.
We’ve just finished handing out Slayers gear to our pint-sized fans and I’m dropping the empty bags behind the bench when a tiny roar of cheers erupts from behind me and then— “Hey, guys, too late for Nat and me to get in on Sharks & Minnows?”
No way.
I stand, looking toward the corner door where, sure enough, George and Nat, red faced and sweaty, are getting swarmed by two dozen special-needs kids giving them the kind of reception Vassar and I could only dream about.
She straightens, a little stitch pulling between her brows. Something inside me dies, because I’m a guy who knows how to read the plays. And I know she’s about to turn and see me, and when she does, that bright-as-the-sun smile’s going to be gone.
She looks. Our eyes meet. And sunset.
Sometimes it sucks to be right.
Fortunately, the little guy standing in front of her reaches up and takes her hand, and it pulls her back into the moment that shouldn’t be about anything but these kids.
We fire it up, playing the games I’ve been playing since I was a first-year Mite up in Minnesota. We practice drills. And when the kids beg for George to show them her goalie moves, she drops into a split so deep I’m sure I’m going straight to hell, because that move is definitely getting deposited into the spank bank.
After we’re done, I hang back, talking with a couple of the parents and coaches while Nat and George talk to Vassar. By the time I’ve signed everything that got put in front of me and taken whatever pictures we were asked for, George is standing alone by the bench… waiting for me.
I skate over and, stepping off the ice onto the rubber flooring, bring up my hands in front of me. “I didn’t know you were going to be here. Vassar was talking about coming out tonight. He didn’t even mention that Nat was going to be here.”
The Zamboni creeps onto the ice, and George gives me a single-shoulder shrug. “Not a big deal and not like I’ve got any more right to be here than you. The kids had fun tonight.”
“Especially once you showed up. Looks like you’ve got more fans out here than Vassar and me put together.”
“It’s the splits. The kids love it.”
They’re not the only ones.
“Look, Quinn.” She licks her lip and meets my eyes. “About the other night, you were trying to be friendly, and… I shouldn’t have been rude. I’m sorry.”
I don’t say anything for a minute, letting her words sink in. I could tell her it’s okay, no sweat, except that I can’t. “Full disclosure, I wasn’tjusttrying to be friendly.”
Her breath huffs out in a short laugh that feels like the closest thing to a win I’ve ever had with this girl. “Even so.”
