The Girl With Hearts (Midtown Brotherhood #1) (10 page)

Tonight.

Chapter 13

LEILA’S PARTY

Madison Square Garden could have been mistaken for an episode of
Tales from the Crypt
. The decoration committee must have found a sale on foam tombstones. Leila pulled her hand out of a fake spider web that clung to the boards around the rink as she skated to the side. She pushed her Raphael mask on top of her head, gasping for air.

She needed to take it slow. One lap around the rink was too much. Her head buzzed as she fought to keep herself upright. She slowly moved herself toward the bench and leaned against the railing.

Her breathing slowed, and her body relaxed. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in the excitement, but it was so easy. There were too many smiles, and too much laughter. A group of pint-sized Transformers whizzed by her, chasing a cackling Batman. She smiled too, until a different smile turned in her direction.

She was aware of Henrik. Always.

He’d started a pickup game with a group of teenagers at the other end of the ice. He played goalie while the kids tried their best shootout moves on him. He sucked at goalie—not even on purpose—so the kids were having a blast.

She intentionally looked the other way, but it was still there. That prickle of acknowledgment seeping down her spine. She focused her attention anywhere else, cursing Drew for abandoning her. Drew refused to skate, and immediately took Sam and Callen’s offer to play video games in one of the suites. So, instead, she looked for Austin, but he was busy helping his friend Michael pull his young toddlers around on a sled.

Their smiles were contagious.

Leila stood back and took it all in, smiling to herself for the first time as she watched the family-filled scene unfold in front of her.

She even felt a little happy herself.

The notion seemed foreign. As she thought back over the past two years, she wondered if she’d ever been happy at all. She couldn’t remember, but she doubted it. It was as if she’d gradually fallen into this construed misconception of what being happy actually meant. Her relationship had been a production, a show she played out every day to convince herself that she was content. Looking back on it, she remembered the hundreds of nights she spent alone, the unanswered phone calls, and the clipped conversations. It made her sad. She pitied that part of herself, the part that trusted, and always gave the benefit of the doubt. She’d never know that girl again. She would never be able to look in a man’s eyes and just believe his words as truth. Her heart was too jaded for that now, still too raw from the memories. She wondered if the pain would ever truly go away for good.

She flinched, jerking her shoulder around. Henrik still watched her, his eyes trained on her as he stood unaware of the ensuing game around him. A puck zoomed by his shoulder without a blink of his eyes. She wanted to turn away again, but her body wouldn’t follow her mind’s demand. There was something about him, being near him, or feeling his gaze upon her, that transformed the ragged anger inside of her into something else, offering a moment’s relief.

He absently handed his stick to someone and skated to her. He didn’t say a word. It wasn’t necessary. He simply stood beside her, turning to watch the vision displayed in front of them. She breathed for the first time, and she finally shared a little bit of the happiness that surrounded her.

“I should have done this a long time ago.” She waved at the kid Austin pulled by in the sled.

“What? Come to our team functions?”

She shook her head, laughing when Austin took a sharp turn, rolling the kid off the sled to his complete delight. “Break up with Derek. Spend more time with Austin and Drew.”

“And me,” he added, glancing over at her.

She snorted. “That’s still up for debate.”

There it was—the doubt that would plague her forever. She wanted to smile at Henrik, to admit the past couple weeks hadn’t actually been so bad having him around, and how he ignited that tiny spark of hope inside of her that maybe they could actually co-exist. Except, she couldn’t. There was too much at stake now.

He rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed with her answer. “I thought we’d been having a good time lately. You know, on the rare occasion when you’re not unintentionally ignoring me.”

She glanced at him, frowning at his ridiculous grin. His hair, which had started to grow out, stuck out from underneath the ball cap he’d traded in for his Michelangelo mask. It reminded her of college, all the times she’d seen him lounging in the commons area, his faded green Fighting Sioux hat hiding his bed head. The memory hurt. As much as she told herself that she hated him then, it was just a lie to save what was left of her cracked heart.

“We’ve been tolerating each other,” she blew out, turning away from him. “I don’t necessarily know if that qualifies as having a good time.”

It was true. The past three weeks she hadn’t done much of anything. She’d called to have the few bills that were in her name transferred to Derek, but other than that, she’d been a ghost in Drew’s apartment. Randomly walking from one room to the next, not really sure what to do with herself. Sure, Henrik had been around during that time—stopping by for lunch after practice, or a late dinner after a game. He’d even brought over her favorite movies, and left his iPad for her so she could download some books. The more she thought about it, she realized he’d been there every single day, with the exception of the five days he was out of town on road trips.

“You’re in denial.”

Her brows shot up, suddenly taken aback by the harsh tone he’d used. “Of what?”

He crossed his arms. “Our friendship.”

“Sleeping together doesn’t make us friends,” she whispered back, using the same jilted tone of voice he’d used.

They’d been lovers, once, and it didn’t go beyond that. To pretend otherwise would only be another mistake in the long list she was accumulating.

He moved closer to her, his voice a soft rush between them. “We didn’t hook up for the hell of it, Leila. You came to me for help. You were upset, and I comforted you the best way I knew how at that point.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

His teeth snapped together. “Damn it, Leila.”

She tried to move, but he balled the edge of her shirt into a fist, holding her in place.

“Why do you always have to be so damn stubborn with me?”

She pried his fingers back, shooting a look toward Austin. He would draw attention to them if he didn’t stop. She didn’t want to have this conversation with him at all, let alone with an audience. All she wanted was to pretend she could be happy again.

She could make it that way, she promised herself, eventually. She’d move somewhere, on her own, start fresh. She could do it by herself.

Henrik shifted forward, now standing close enough that his chest brushed against the back of her shoulder. “Let’s say it was just sex. Even though we both know it wasn’t. Give me one good reason why we can’t be friends now.” He stepped back as Austin skated by, but then scooted even closer. “I’ve stopped accepting calls. I haven’t been out. I’ve even made it an entire two weeks without hitting on you.”

“Is that some sort of record for you, or something?” she asked dryly, still looking forward, trying to deny the way his breath felt on her neck.

“Well—yeah,” he admitted. “You haven’t exactly made it easy.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he grinned back at her. It was his you-can’t-stay-mad-me grin. “You look cute in green.”

She rolled her eyes. She couldn’t do this again. Not with Henrik.

“What?” He threw out his hands, laughing.

She spun around, scowling at him. “That is exactly why we can’t be friends.”

“Why? Because you’ve lost the ability to take a joke?” He followed after her, his every word saturated with the same unruly confidence that had turned her speechless from the very beginning. “A koala bear is cute. Bambi is cute. What’s so wrong with it?”

“It’s not that.”

He slid an inch closer. “Enlighten me, then.”

“It’s that stupid look on your face. It’s the exact same one that you—” She stopped, realizing what she was about to admit to him. It was the same grin he gave her the first night she met him. The same night he almost gave her a concussion. She couldn’t stay mad at him then either.

A friendship with Henrik would set herself up for failure again. He wasn’t capable of friendship, let alone—“Just never mind.”

“That I what?” He hurried and skated up beside her, brushing his hands against her wrist. “Leila, talk to me.”

She instantly jerked away. “No, Henrik. The simple fact is we can’t be friends.” It had already become more complicated than she ever intended. That night with Henrik was only meant to boost her ego and damper the betrayal that stung her so bitterly. If she had known what it would lead to—this reflux of emotion she thought died a long time ago, she might have just beat the hell out of Derek’s car instead. “As far as I’m concerned, we didn’t have sex that night.”

He groaned, whirling in front of her so she’d have no choice but to look at him. “You can’t just pretend that night didn’t happen.”

She stopped just before crashing into him, her cheeks burning as her voice unintentionally went up two octaves. “Yes, I can.”

He paused, his hands grabbing her shoulders. She thought he’d surely be angry, but his touch was soft. She shook now, her pulse beating a warning in her ears. It had only taken a second for her reaction to spiral out of control.

“Leila—”

White spots sprinkled before her eyes as a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. She instantly felt nauseated, and it caused her to return Henrik’s grasp.

“Leila,” he repeated as if he wasn’t sure she could even hear him. “Are you all right?”

She could see him waving off people who turned around and stared. She blinked, her hand going to her throat and face. Heat stung her features. She was definitely going to be sick. “I need some air.” Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“I know a place we can go,” he assured her.

She clutched his hand and let him lead her off the ice.

Chapter 14

LEILA’S CHOICE

Leila sat on the bench in front of Henrik’s locker, watching him silently panic on the floor in front of her. He tried to be super cool about it, but his eyes were dilated. He was scared, and if she was honest, she was terrified. It had never happened so quickly before, and, thankfully, she brought her medicine with her. She quickly downed it the first time Henrik turned his back.

She sipped sparingly from a bottle of cold water he snatched from the team’s personal storage. Her face was ghostly. She knew it had to be. All the former glow it had shown only a half hour ago gone, replaced by the same misery and hopelessness that had been plaguing her for weeks.

Henrik was unusually quiet. He’d taken off his skates, and scooted the toes of his socks up against the tips of hers.

“Something is going on with you.” He didn’t look at her when he said it, because it wasn’t a question. Instead, he wiggled his toes against hers.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She pulled her knees up to her chest.

He moved forward, close enough to see her eyes as she tried to hide. “I can’t force you to tell me. I want to be here for you, though, even if I’m not really sure what that means.”

She peered over her knees at him. She should tell him. Eventually, she’d have to tell him, or at least tell someone. “Not here,” she whispered, her voice still unsteady. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

He nodded, bringing himself to his feet. “Then let’s go somewhere else.”

She looked at him, doubtful. “We can’t. Austin and Drew—the party.”

“They’re grown men. They’ll survive without us,” he asserted, smiling at her. He held his hand out, offering her the choice of whether or not to take it.

She studied him for a long moment. There was no over-confident grin. No mischievous twinkle in his eye. He was actually being serious for once.

He really was scared.

“Okay,” she agreed, finally, reaching up to intertwine her fingers with his.

He immediately pulled her into a hug, burying his face in the tuft of curls cascading down the side of her face. “Thank you,” he offered.

“For what?” she whispered into his shirt.

He took a deep breath, and she could feel him smiling, and curling his hands into her thick curls, pulling her just a little closer. “I don’t know yet.”

***

The sun hung low in the sky as the New York skyline disappeared behind them. There was something about leaving, the thought of running away, that seemed to calm the fear that had risen up inside of her. Leila leaned her head back against the seat, taking deep, slow breaths as she enjoyed the view in front of her, and more importantly, the one beside her.

Henrik had thrown a black jacket over his Ninja Turtle shirt, and ditched his hat in the back seat, but he still looked like a little kid sitting next to her. His eyes were wide, full of possibility, and that frightened her a little, but in the good, ‘it feels right’ kind of way.

The clouds were a deep purple, scattered across the empty horizon. She had no idea where he was taking her, and she didn’t care. She could finally breathe again.

He monitored her out of the corner of his eye. She knew he probably wanted to ask her a million questions, to pry into the source of her erratic reactions, but she couldn’t bring herself to disrupt the easy calmness between them. It was so rare. So, instead, she enjoyed the peace while it lasted. It wasn’t until hours later when they came up on a sleepy town on the outskirts of nowhere that she sat up and started asking questions.

“Where are we?” She twisted in her seat, taking in every possible detail in the vicinity, attempting to pinpoint their location.

“Cold Spring,” Henrik said, his eyes focused on the road. “This is where I train in the summer.”

She studied the scenery outside the window, wondering what magical quality this town possessed to make him spend his entire summer there. There weren’t any bars or sorority houses.

“My Uncle Gus lives here.” He smiled at her. “He was my coach growing up, and when I got traded to New York and signed my seven year contract, he and my Aunt Sarah wanted to move closer.”

“They don’t like the city?” she questioned. She knew Henrik had lived in the south before moving to the Midwest for college.

“They’re from Charlotte. What do you think?”

She grinned over at him. “Are you sure we won’t be intruding?”

“Yes, because they will never know we were even here.”

Before she could process what he said, he took a sudden, sharp left turn, cutting down a small, worn road through what appeared to be an abandoned field. She grabbed the door handle, hanging on for dear life as they started bounding their way down the rugged path. “What are you doing?” she asked, exasperated.

“My uncle’s house is up the road, but this is all his property. He always dreamed of living up here, especially because New York can provide one thing Charlotte can’t.”

She raised her eyes, too concerned with being bumped out of the vehicle to form her question into words. The car came to a sudden halt, propelling her forward before her seat belt locked and brought her slamming back. When she finally gained control of herself, he had flipped the headlights on bright. He leaned over the console toward her and pointed out into the fading light. “Up here you can have your own rink in your back yard.”

Her eyes lit up. In the distance, veiled by a blanket of light snow, was a frozen pond. Normally, it would be too early in the season to skate, but the unseasonable cold had worked its magic a month early.

She couldn’t deny the hint of excitement she felt as she smiled over at him. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve skated on a pond?”

Henrik’s smile captured his entire face just before he bit his lip. “Your sophomore year. Sigma Hockey Classic. You scored three goals in five minutes.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. The girls in her dormitory had begged her to join their team for the annual charity event. The sister of one of the school’s hockey stars had to be good, right? It was for a good cause, so she couldn’t turn them down. “You actually remember that?”

He rolled his eyes at her before opening his door. “Why do you think I went?”

He got out of the car before she could respond. She couldn’t believe he remembered her playing in that game. She quickly followed him, jumping out of the car and grabbing her skates out of the back seat. He sat on the bank of the pond, pulling his skates on. She eased down next to him. “You scored eight goals in the game you played,” she said, not looking over at him. “Three in the first period, and five in the second. They asked you not to play in the third, just to keep it fair.”

She started tying her skates, but she watched him smile out of the corner of her eye.

She remembered that game like it was yesterday—the crisp air, the buzzing chatter of half the campus getting drunk in the name of curing cancer. Most importantly, she remembered Henrik.

She looked up to see him leaned over, his elbows on his knees, looking thoughtfully out at the ice. “You borrowed Austin’s Minnesota Wild jersey to wear in the game, and tore a hole through the arm during the second period.” When he looked up, challenge glinted in his eyes, along with just a hint of mischief. “So, in the third, you wore my Hurricanes jersey.”

“No, I didn’t. That was Austin’s jersey too. Abby said he brought it to me between periods.”

He stood up, shaking off the snow before grinning down at her. “When has Austin ever been a Hurricanes fan? I’m from Charlotte, remember? I saw you rip your jersey, so I brought you mine. I made Abby give it to you, because I knew you wouldn’t accept it from me.”

She stood, her hands on her hips. “I’ve been sleeping in that jersey for a good five years now.”

His smile turned crooked. “I know.”

He stepped out on the ice, a pleased expression engulfing him. She was still too stunned by the revelation to follow after him. She couldn’t believe he’d done something so thoughtful. All these years she’d accepted the fact that her big brother had been looking out for her, when in reality, it had been Henrik.

“Why?” she finally asked, stepping onto the ice. “Why did you do that?”

She was more than curious; she needed to know for her own sanity. They weren’t speaking to each other by that point, the rift between them already feet deep. Henrik had no reason to be nice to her.

He skated down the ice, his movement fluid and easy as he made a giant circle around the rim of the small pond. “Why did you stay and sit out in the freezing cold to watch my game that night?” he shot back.

She pursed her lips at him. He skated back toward her, skidding to a stop on the jagged ice, leaving them nose to nose as he leaned down over her. “That answer you’re too stubborn to admit to, well, it’s a two way street.”

She wrinkled her nose. She’d watched his game because, as much as she didn’t want to admit to it, she had a crush on him, despite her greatest efforts against it. She’d practically scowled after every goal he made that tournament, sour grapes, because she knew the more attention he demanded, the longer the line of girls would be waiting for him after the game.

He rounded behind the tattered goal at the end of the pond, picking up two wooden hockey sticks, and a puck off the back of the net. He dusted the snow off before dropping the puck and shooting it toward her.

Leila stopped it with the toe of her skate, taking the extra stick as he skated past her. “Well, are there any other good deeds you let my brother take credit for that I don’t know about?”

“I don’t know about good deeds.” He smiled, easily reaching over and taking the puck from under her skate with his stick.

“What does that mean?”

She whirled around, watching him display his fancy puck handling skills as he batted it back and forth with ease. He stopped and flipped the puck up onto the end of his stick. “You remember the night we first met?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “How can I forget the puck flying at my head?”

He smiled, flipping the puck up in the air toward her, only to watch it land exactly two feet in front of her. “I did it on purpose.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You could have taken my head off.”

He laughed. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got good aim.”

“Why would you do such a thing?” she growled.

He shrugged. “The same reason any other red blooded male would intentionally shoot a hockey puck into the stands. I wanted the pretty girl’s attention.”

“That’s rich,” she huffed, grabbing the puck so she could have something to do rather than look at him. It brought back too many emotions, ones she tried so hard to pretend weren’t real. “Why try and get my attention that night, only to ignore me the next day and every day after that?”

The pain felt as raw in that moment as it had that very first day. She’d spotted Henrik in the commons area the day after their first meeting. She’d smiled and waved, only to be awarded with silence, and a daunting glare from the latest girl hanging onto his arm. It had been the beginning of the end for their brief moment in the sun.

Henrik’s back went straight as he took in her words. “That isn’t what happened,” he stated curtly.

“Really? Because that’s how it looked on my end. You would have thought I’d come down with a bout of leprosy when we ran into each other that next day.” Her voice was shaky at best, the truth in it, along with the residual pain that never really went away.

She positioned the puck in front of her and prepared to take out her frustration with a hard slap shot toward the goal. However, the ancient, wooden stick was heavier than the metal ones she was accustomed to, and the blade didn’t bend, sending the puck flying at an awkward angle straight up into Henrik’s unsuspecting nose.

He dropped to the ice like a dead fish, his hands cupping his face. He didn’t scream, but a litany of curse words fell from his mouth as blood started to leak down his face.

She dropped the stick, and her heart that had been thrumming in her eardrums crashed at her feet. She rushed toward him, dropping to her knees by his side. “Oh my gosh, Henrik. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

He moaned into his hands, rolling onto his stomach. She tried to pull his shoulder back to get a good look at the damage, but he reflexively jerked away. “I’m okay,” he muttered through his fingers, but she could see the blood seeping through the slots and down his wrist.

She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She only wanted a momentary distraction from the swell of memories flooding her system so she could get control of herself.

“No, you’re not,” she shot back, her hand curling itself around the collar of his jacket. “Let me look at it.”

He continued to mumble, unconvincingly, that he was fine. It was useless. Henrik was a hockey player, and there was an unwritten rule that they weren’t allowed to feel pain. This wasn’t a game, though, and she refused to let him suffer because of her mistake. “Come on,” she insisted, pulling him to his feet. “At least let me get you off the ice.”