Thin Ice (23 page)

"Of course not, but it's affected you. Anna says you're not eating wel, and we see your light on at night long after you should be asleep.” Gently, he asked, “Might it have something to do with a certain hockey player I've seen you sharing lunch with in the hospital cafeteria?"

Augustus was much too discreet to mention Emily's arrival at the ER

with Eric in the middle of the night. She sighed. “It might."

"Do you love him?"

Did she? Was that why she felt so listless, so steeped in dul, unrelenting pain? Was that why the sight of roses, or the smel of fresh-baked cinnamon rols made her eyes mist without warning?

fresh-baked cinnamon rols made her eyes mist without warning?

Was love the reason she ached for Eric at night? The reason she tossed and turned for hours before faling asleep?

It couldn't be love. Love was supposed to be sunshine and flowers, favorite songs on the radio, whispered secrets in the night. Love was a gentle touch, a look that caressed, two hearts beating in tandem ... wishing the moment would never end.

"I don't know."

"Ah. Then that explains the sleepless nights."

"I'm afraid, Augustus."

"Of love?"

"Of repeating past mistakes. My ex-husband beat me."

"Has Eric given you any indication he would ever harm you?"

"No."

"Has he ever been angry enough at you that you felt he might consider it?'

Her laugh was mirthless. “Several times."

"And yet he didn't."

"No,” she said, thinking of that day at Robbie's game. “He didn't.

"No,” she said, thinking of that day at Robbie's game. “He didn't.

He didn't even come close to it."

"Then why the doubts? Is it his profession?"

She shifted to face his profile. “I thought so at first, but ... the more I learn about hockey, the more I understand he's simply doing his job. Granted, it's a job he enjoys, but it's his enjoyment of his work that makes him so ... effective."

Augustus remained silent, clearly giving her time to compose her thoughts.

"Do you suppose that for Eric it's the same as when you or I go to work? As in who we are on the job isn't necessarily who we are away from the hospital?"

His smile was drol. “You mean you're not always completely cool, competent and professional?"

Emily laughed. It felt good to laugh for a change.

Augustus puled into the passing lane to overtake a salt truck chugging up the incline. “I'm afraid I can't answer your questions. I don't know Eric. From what Anna's told me, he seems to care for you, but whether his professional demeanor is something he employs only on the ice is something only you can decide."

Emily plucked idly at a crease in the leather seat. “There's a look he gets in his eyes sometimes. It's so intense, it ... frightens me."

gets in his eyes sometimes. It's so intense, it ... frightens me."

"Intense, you say?” Augustus considered that for a moment. “May I play devil's advocate?"

Emily smiled. He always asked permission. And he was usualy right. “By al means."

"Have you considered the possibility that this look you see in Eric's eyes might be one of passion?"

"Passion?” Emily's cheeks warmed. “As in lust?"

"Passion comes in many forms, my dear, not al of them sexual."

The heat in her cheeks became a ful-fledged blush. Emily was glad Augustus kept his eyes on the road.

"At the risk of sounding pompous, passion is a sign of strong feelings, a state of intense emotional excitement, or, in your case, perhaps even upheaval. From a man's perspective, if Eric cares for you, I'd wager that what he feels in those moments when you think you see anger in his eyes is probably more along the lines of frustration ... or despair."

"Despair?"

Augustus nodded. “Because I'd also wager that what he sees in your eyes causes him to fear losing the one thing he desires the most. Your trust. Possibly your love.” Augustus glided the car onto most. Your trust. Possibly your love.” Augustus glided the car onto the exit ramp. “A smile or a soft word in those moments would no doubt contribute a great deal toward easing the anxiety felt on both sides,” he added quietly.

They rode the rest of the way in silence until Augustus broke it with,

“You have company."

Spotting Eric's Explorer in her driveway, Emily straightened.

Augustus chuckled and eased to a stop in front of the house. “It seems your young man suffers from sleepless nights as wel."

Emily smiled, unable to contain her sudden hope at the thought of seeing Eric again. Maybe they could work things out.

Augustus reached out and covered her hand. “Talk to him, Emily.

Tel him what you've told me. If not tonight, then soon. Don't let the pain of your past mar your present. Above al, don't let memories that should have been laid to rest long ago cheat you out of a promising future."

Touched, Emily wrapped her fingers around Augustus’ hand and squeezed. “Thank you."

"Thank you. It's good to know not al of the young females of my acquaintance consider me too ancient to understand what it feels like to be in love."

Emily grinned. “Your daughters?"

Emily grinned. “Your daughters?"

"Thank God Anna has them in hand. I suspect they would have packed up and moved out on me if not for her."

Emily laughed and puled Augustus to her for a long, genuine father-daughter hug, the first they'd shared. “Wel, I won't leave you."

"Don't be so sure of that, my dear. A hockey player's life is transient at best. If you decide you love Eric, you may find yourself seeing more of the world than you expected."

Silently, Emily let herself into the house. She didn't want to wake Robbie. Stil muling over Augustus’ parting words, she gently closed the door and slipped off her coat and shoes. She was halfway to the hal closet when she noticed Eric, standing in the kitchen doorway, watching her.

He was so stil. She couldn't see his expression, his back was to the low light coming from the kitchen, but he was probably wondering what she had to say about finding him in her house at two thirty in the morning.

She offered a pleasant smile. “Eric. This is a surprise."

"I'l just bet it is. Where have you been?"

Her smile faded. Anxiety snaked down her spine as she recaled Her smile faded. Anxiety snaked down her spine as she recaled other nights, nights when Ryan had asked her that same question in an eerily similar tone of voice. She flashed back to the lawyer's wife she'd just comforted. To stal for time, she reached into the closet for a hanger and hung up her coat, then reminded herself Eric wasn't Ryan. “Is Melissa upstairs?"

"She went home at nine-thirty."

Nine-thirty? He'd been waiting for her for over five hours? No wonder he was upset.

"Would you like some tea?” The first thing they needed to clear up was the reason she'd left his game. She wasn't ready to tel him about Ryan just yet, but an explanation of her work at the shelter might help Eric understand her reaction on Thursday night better.

"I'd like an answer."

Helo? Another uneasy tremor rippled through her. She let it pass.

This was no doubt one of those moments Augustus had mentioned, when a soft word or smile might go a long way toward putting her anxieties to rest. She smiled. “I was out with—"

"Dr. Caldwel, I know. Robbie told me."

"I see,” she said, not seeing at al. Then what was the problem?

"Do you go out with him often?"

"Every Wednesday night."

His dark eyes bored into hers as he stepped toward her. Emily could now see he was furious. Feel the anger radiating from him in hot waves. She fought the urge to step back. This was Eric, but something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

"Why did you lie to me?"

Her throat went dry. Nervously, she wet her lips. “Lie to you?

What did I lie to you about?"

"You told me you couldn't get a sitter for Robbie when I asked you to, but you found one so you could go out with another man until al hours of the night."

"Another man?” She exhaled in relief and started to walk past him into the kitchen. “Oh, for heaven's sake, that was Augustus."

He caught her arm and stopped her. “That was Augustus you were locked in a clinch with?"

She looked at his hand on her arm, then up at him. “That was no clinch, that was a hug, and why I am standing here in the middle of the night explaining myself to you, I have no idea."

Eric seemed to realize what he'd done. “I'm sorry,” he said, and let go of her arm. “I didn't mean to do that."

Emily continued into the kitchen and turned when she reached the sink. She folded her arms across her chest to contain her building anger and said, “You know, I thought maybe we could get a few things worked out tonight, but I've changed my mind. I think you should leave."

"No. Not until I get some answers."

Emily's patience snapped. “No? Eric, this is my home,” she said, pointing to herself. “It is not for you to decide when you leave. In fact, you shouldn't be here at al. I didn't invite you. And if I had been out on a date tonight, that would have been my choice as wel.

Whom I choose to see, when or where or why, is none of your business. It never was."

"You didn't feel that way before last Thursday night, before you saw me mix it up with Murder."

Her hands moved to her hips. “Mix it up? Is that what you cal it? If you'd done what you did to that man anywhere else, you could have been prosecuted for assault."

"Emily, you don't understand. It's part of the game."

"I understand plenty. And you know what? I was right that night.

This is a game I want no part of."

"You can't mean that."

"I can, and I do. Since I walked in the door, you have practicaly

"I can, and I do. Since I walked in the door, you have practicaly accused me of being with another man, attempted to physicaly intimidate me, informed me you are not leaving until you get some answers, told me I don't understand hockey, and now you're teling me I can't mean what I'm saying."

"Emily, I—"

"I understand plenty, Eric, and I mean it when I say I want no part of this."

She watched as Eric took a deep, calming breath. “Emily,” he said with surprising patience, “What happens on the ice has nothing to do with what happens between you and me."

"I disagree."

"Are you saying you think I would hit you?"

"You enjoy physical confrontations too much, Eric. Don't tel me you don't. I don't want to have to deal with that, and I shouldn't have to. I deserve better."

He looked as if she'd just stabbed him in the heart al over again.

“Emily, I swear to you, I'd never—"

"Mommy?"

Both heads turned toward the sleepy, plaintive voice. Robbie stood in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his eyes. Emily stepped past Eric to in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his eyes. Emily stepped past Eric to face her son. What had he seen? What had he heard? “What do you need, honey?"

"Why are you and Eric fighting?"

Emily shot Eric a look over her shoulder. “We're not fighting, sweetheart, we're just talking too loud. I'm sorry we woke you. Go back to sleep, now. I'l be up soon."

"Can I have a glass of water?"

For once, she was grateful for the request. “Al right, but wait for me in your room."

"Can Eric bring it up?"

Emily straightened and looked at Eric, who looked determined enough to wear her down completely before he left. Sheer exhaustion made her decision easy. She wasn't up to any more talking tonight. Any more disagreements. This was her home and she made the rules here.

"No. He's leaving."

* * * *

Earlier that evening, Kim had confirmed that the vivacious bartender Eric had abandoned his teammates in favor of was the same woman he'd left Hooligans with that night almost three weeks ago. She'd also learned he'd been occupying that particular bar stool until closing every night the Saints were in town, since. What happened afterward was anyone's guess, but watching them now, with their heads bent together, Miranda had a pretty good idea of where they were headed. Maybe she needed to go over there and remind Eric just who he was supposed to be in love with.

"Ooo-ee, would you take a look at that?"

Miranda dragged her attention from the tête-à-tête at the bar, and turned to see what hapless victim Peter Cordel, the Saints’

deposed captain, was setting his sights on this time.

She nearly choked on her ice cube.

Emily Jordan stood at the foot of the stairs looking uncertain and uneasy. Miranda suspected she didn't spend much time in bars, had never entered one alone. She had that vulnerable look vultures like Cordel could spot a mile away.

"Now that's one classy piece. I wonder what she'd say if I invited her to my place to practice my quickshot?"

"Try it and you'l be lucky if your captain lets you live,” Bil said

"Try it and you'l be lucky if your captain lets you live,” Bil said from behind Miranda.

Miranda and Cordel shot Bil a surprised look, Miranda grateful for his show of support. She didn't want Emily anywhere near Cordel.

"No shit? She's Cameron's squeeze?” Cordel's gaze sidled over to Eric and Cassandra at the bar, a smarmy smirk curling his lips. “This ought to be interesting."