Skating out onto the ice, he moved a little slower at first, his confidence just a little off. Part of him wanted to play it safe at practice, make sure his leg held out for the game against Colorado…his thousandth game, finally. But a bigger drive, a different need was a source of fuel for him now. While the milestone game mattered, so did game 1,001, 1,002…and every other game he could squeeze into his lifetime.
He needed to prove that he still had what it took to be one of the greats…like his brother. But not to beat his brother or to compete with him, but because he knew he was that athlete. No one else on the ice that morning had the same devotion and dedication to the sport as he did…no one else needed the sport as much as he did.
Right now, it was all he had.
So, he left it all out on the ice.
He’d messed up his shot with Emma. He refused to let something else he was passionate about slip away.
He skated hard and fast, body-checking players and taking hits from all sides. He stole the puck and took every shot given to him. He played like the hungry kid he used to be.
And three hours later, exhausted and dripping with sweat, he was the last one to leave the ice.
“Westmore,” his coach said as he headed toward the showers.
He turned. “Yes, coach?”
“Next week after the game—you, me, and your agent.” The man’s attention was definitely focused on him now.
Relief flowed through him and he felt the tension of the last few weeks start to melt away. “Yes, sir.”
“Good to have you back.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Emma slowed her vehicle as she passed the Westmore house, knowing it was stupid. Asher had left already. She’d run into Beverly at the grocery store the day before and the woman had seemed as disappointed as Emma was.
He’d left without saying goodbye.
She stopped the car a block away and climbed out into the freezing air. The bright sun reflecting off the frost covering the ground did nothing to warm her and she put on her gloves before opening her father’s mailbox.
Possibly for the last time.
The day after Christmas they’d driven to Willow Springs, the retirement community just outside Glenwood Falls, and her father had agreed it was for the best. Jess would look after the sale of the house in the spring once the repairs were finished.
Taking the stack of late Christmas cards and several flyers out of the mailbox, she flipped through for any bills or anything urgent.
Her heart stopped seeing an envelope with the New Jersey Devils logo in the corner.
Addressed to Jess?
She tapped the envelope against her gloved palm. Her sister wouldn’t care if she opened it, would she?
Damn.
Locking the mailbox, she hurried back to the car and drove straight to her sister’s house.
The smell of chocolate and cinnamon wafted out to greet her as she entered through the front door. How her sister and family didn’t collectively weigh a thousand pounds from all of Trey’s delicious baking, she’d never know. Emma had certainly indulged that past week and was feeling the tightness in her clothes.
“Jess!” she called, leaving her coat and boots on as she rushed through the house. Stopping in the living room, she checked to see if her father was awake in the chair in front of the football game before asking, “Dad, do you know where Jess is?”
He ignored the question, instead pointing toward the television. “They better have ESPN at Windy Old Geezer Springs.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Dad, where’s Jess?”
“Is that my mail?” he asked, nodding at the pile in her hand.
“Oh, yes, here. Looks like Christmas cards and junk mail,” she said, handing him everything but the letter for Jess.
Braxton entered the living room with a plate of cookies and glass of milk. “Here you go, Grandpa,” he said.
“Braxton, where’s your mom?”
“Downstairs in our playroom trying to convince Brayden to throw away a bunch of old stuffies…”
She didn’t wait to hear the rest as she hurried down the stairs to the boys’ playroom.
Braxton followed.
“Jess, this came for you,” she said, extending the envelope toward her sister.
Jess held two stuffed toys—a giant elephant in one hand and a long green snake in the other. “Pick one, Brayden,” she said, her patience with the after-Christmas playroom organization waning thin.
“I like both.”
“Brayden!”
“Jess!” Emma said, taking both toys and handing them to her nephew. “Open this,” she told her, handing her the envelope.
Jess shot her an annoyed look, but then her eyes widened as she saw the logo. “What is it?”
“Open. It.” The words were said through clenched teeth.
Jess ripped the corner off and pulled out a stack of hockey tickets. She read the sticky note attached. “As promised, tickets for the New Year’s Eve game in Denver. Hope you all can make it.” She flicked through. “There’re seven.”
Enough for her sister’s family, her father, and her.
Emma swallowed hard.
“Are you going to go?” Jess asked the question she’d just been asking herself.
One she didn’t know the answer to.
Chapter 23
New Year’s Eve and back in Denver.
Sitting on the bench in the locker room, Asher stared at his phone. Other than her brief visit to the hospital, no contact from Emma in almost two weeks. Only two weeks, but it felt like a lifetime. He couldn’t remember a time when they’d gone this long without talking. She’d always been the one constant in his fast-moving world, the one thing he could grab hold of when the stress of the whirlwind pace got too much. She’d been his best friend. His only real friend. The person he depended on and trusted even more than his family…yet she’d been so much more than that. And he’d been completely blind to it.
He’d thought getting back to his rigorous training schedule and the anticipation of the thousandth game would have helped to take his mind off of her, but countless hours on the ice, pushing himself to his limits, hadn’t erased images of her scrolling through his mind. No amount of game strategy talk or hints about a big contract renewal had helped put things back into perspective.
The problem was, he knew what mattered most now.
And it didn’t come with a big payday, fan adoration, or hitting every professional goal he set for himself.
“You nervous?” Anderson, a young rookie forward, asked, pulling his own jersey over his head.
“Nah.” He knew his teammate meant about the thousandth game and once again facing off against his brother on ice that was more home than away for him.
But it was true. None of that bothered his nerves. What did was whether or not Emma would be there. He’d received a thank-you text from Jess, saying that they would be there tonight…but he hadn’t had the balls to ask if they included Emma.
He needed her there.
“Well, suit up, man, and try to steer clear of your brother,” his teammate said with a grin.
“Yeah,” Asher said, reaching for his skates. “I’ll certainly try.”
* * *
Holding a bottle of Champagne, which she had no intentions of sharing, Emma knocked on Jane’s front door. The lights were dimmed and she could hear holiday music coming from inside, mixed with the sounds of chatting and laughter.
Why was she here?
She certainly wasn’t in any mood for a party. The idea of ringing in the New Year among co-workers and people she barely knew was slightly depressing.
She was there because she was desperately trying to avoid being somewhere else.
All day she’d gone back and forth on whether to go to the game with her family, to be there for Ash, but she’d successfully convinced herself that going wasn’t the right thing to do.
Meaning, she was full of shit and capa
ble of lying even to herself.
Ten years of friendship…years of love should have been enough to patch the hole in her heart long enough to make it to his big game, but the pain was still just a little too much.
She wasn’t interested in getting hurt anymore. Despite his claim to be in love with her, she knew the truth: he was terrified of losing her. That wasn’t real love. And she needed to remain true to herself and move on…and away from the hold he’d always had on her.
Going to the game would have been a mistake.
She knocked again, and Jane answered with a welcoming smile. “Hi! So glad you were able to make it. Come in,” she said, moving back to allow Emma to enter.
“Thanks again for inviting me.” Otherwise, she’d probably be sitting in the Denver arena parking lot right now, continuing to do battle with herself.
“Make yourself comfortable…there are people mingling everywhere,” she said, reaching for Emma’s coat.
Emma unzipped it, then shook her head. “You know, I’m a little chilled. I’ll leave it on for now.” Easier to make a quiet exit later if necessary.
The smell of baked goods coming from the kitchen made her stomach growl. She knew she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite, but the laughing, jovial crowd in the living room looked like more than she could handle tonight, so she headed straight for the kitchen. If she didn’t get this liquid into a wine glass soon, she was popping the cork and drinking straight from the bottle.
She knew one thing, she’d never make it to the count of midnight sober. Not when she’d be missing her usual New Year’s Eve Skype “kiss” with Ash.
“Hey, Dr. Masey,” she said with as much enthusiasm she could muster as she entered the small kitchen. He was leaning against the island chatting to several doctors from the medical clinic. “Happy New…”
“What are you doing here?” he interrupted, turning from his conversation.
“I was invited.” She reached for a glass and set it on the counter.
“But Asher’s game is tonight.”
She sighed. She knew that! All day she’d unsuccessfully tried to forget. Her nephews had been practically bouncing off the walls at the idea of going to a game, and even Jess had tried to talk her into going.
“Put everything aside for one night. For him,” she’d said.
Who knew she’d be wishing for her anti-Asher sister to come back? Since the fire, her sister was pro-Asher, and it was coming a little too late.
“I’m sure he’ll do great,” she mumbled, peeling the foil from the rim of the bottle and tossing it into the trash.
She unscrewed the metal cage and gripped the cork tight as she yanked.
It didn’t budge.
She pulled harder, wincing as she expected the cork to come flying out, shooting Champagne everywhere.
It still refused to move.
Oh come on! She handed the bottle to Dr. Masey. “Can you open this? Quickly.”
“I’m not opening this,” he said. “You can’t be serious, Em. You’re going to miss this important event in his—”
She held up a hand. “Stop.” She didn’t need anyone else telling her that she was wrong not to go. Besides, the game started in ten minutes. It was too late anyway. “Please just open my Champagne so I can get sloppily drunk and kiss some random stranger at midnight.”
One of the other doctors winked at her, and she immediately regretted saying the words out loud. She certainly didn’t mean them. At least not the kissing a stranger part.
Dr. Masey reluctantly popped the cork and poured half a glass. But he held it back out of reach when she reached for it. “You should be there for him tonight. This is a big deal,” he said.
Emma stared at the glass of Champagne that was supposed to be her savior that evening, and doubt over her decision returned. Even if they’d been fighting, Asher would never have missed a big moment in her career…in her life. They’d been best friends for so long.
Did it matter that seeing him would break her heart even more?
Could her heart possibly break any more?
Damn! She glanced at the clock on Jane’s kitchen wall. “The game starts in six minutes. I’ll never make it to Denver in time anyway.” What was she saying? What happened to her resolve? “And I don’t even have a ticket.” She’d refused to take one from Jess in case she changed her mind.
Think about the fact that he hurt you. Think about the fact that he could hurt you again…
“You have to at least show up,” Dr. Masey said.
Emma bit her lip. “And what? Just wait outside the players’ gate at the arena until he appears and yell at him to get his attention like the other puck bunnies?” Her mouth went dry. She wouldn’t have to. She knew he always booked the same suite in the Fairmont Plaza hotel, and he always left a room key at the front desk for her, since she’d always beaten him back to the hotel, as he’d needed to shower and change and often had post-game interviews.
Would he leave a key this time? If he did it would mean he still had hope for them.
Suddenly her faint spark of lingering hope needed to find out. “Okay. I’m going to Denver,” she said, feeling her stomach flutter. She thought she might actually throw up. Grabbing the Champagne bottle, she struggled to stick the cork back in, then stole one from the top of a wine bottle and jammed it in.
Suddenly she did feel like sharing. With the man she was in love with.
Dr. Masey smiled as she exited the kitchen. “Have a happy New Year, Emma,” he called after her.
With any luck…
Chapter 24
Releasing a nerve-filled breath, Asher left the locker room.
This was it. The moment he’d busted his ass for since he was four years old. And it was happening in the one stadium that had always felt like home. At the covered entryway to the ice, he held back, allowing each of his teammates to go first. Each player shook his hand as they passed. Asher’s heart raced and blood pumped throughout his body on an adrenaline rush.
His coach was the last one to pass him, and the silent nod of respect had Asher itching to get out there. For sixty minutes of play time, everything would make sense.
He headed toward the arena door, and the moment his blades touched the ice, the stadium erupted in a standing ovation. The sea of New Jersey Devils colors in the stands boasting his name and number made it hard to believe he was on Colorado ice.
He stopped to wave to the crowd of supporters, but unfortunately, the spotlights dancing across the ice in the otherwise dark stadium made it impossible to see if the one person he longed to see was there.
He gave another quick wave to the crowd as he skated his first lap around for his warm-up with his teammates.
A moment later, the music changed to the Colorado theme song, the lights changed from red and black to burgundy and blue, and the Avalanche players skated out.
As his brother skated past, he held out a fist and smiled as their knuckles bumped. “Proud of you, bro,” Ben said before skating off to join his own team.
The words were almost enough to ease the ache of disappointment in Asher’s chest as the lights came on, the anthem was sung, and he didn’t see Emma sitting with her family in the stands.
She wasn’t there. She hadn’t shown up.
He knew why. She loved him. A friend could move past their argument, but what they had went far beyond friendship. For both of them. He was done putting his feelings on ice, compartmentalizing his life. He wanted his hockey career and he wanted Emma—simultaneously. It might be complicated. It might mean sacrifices, but he didn’t care.
His heart raced, and he couldn’t get this game started quickly enough. The faster it started, the faster it could be over and he could get his shit from the hotel and be on his way to the woman he loved before the stroke of midnight.
This was one New Year’s Eve he would be kissing his best friend for real, whether she was still angry at him or not.
* * *
The game would be ove
r in twenty minutes.
Emma had listened to it in her car all the way from Glenwood Falls and knew the Devils were leading 4–2 going into the last period.
She’d been white-knuckling it the whole way as unexpected snow had started the moment she’d taken the exit for the highway, but nothing—not even an abominable snowman appearing on the road—could have stopped her from getting there.
She missed Ash. She loved him. She wanted to be there for him, even if she wasn’t sitting in the stands. She hoped what she had planned would be better, anyway.
God, she hoped.
Dragging her small suitcase and slightly out of breath, Emma rushed toward the front desk of the Fairmont Plaza hotel.
She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved to see the familiar desk clerk smiling back at her as she approached.
Guess it depended on whether or not Ash had left a key for her.
Maybe she should just check into her own room and text him to come to her…to save herself from the embarrassment if he hadn’t.
“Hi, Evan…” she started nervously. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He would probably go out with the team to celebrate after the game…or his family. It was New Year’s Eve. And this was a huge night for him.
Guilt for not being there washed over her. She’d make it up to him.
“Miss Emma! So great to see you,” Evan said with a happy smile. “He didn’t think you were coming.” He nodded behind her toward the lobby television that was playing the final period of the game.
Her heart echoed in her ears. “What?”
“Mr. Westmore,” he whispered, leaning forward, shooting her a conspirator’s wink. “He looked so torn when I asked him if he needed a key left here for you this time.”
Emma swallowed hard. What had Asher decided? “Did he?” she asked, almost hating that the desk clerk had essentially been privy to their secret affair for years…yet kinda grateful to have an ally in this moment of stress.
Maybe he’d have a drink in the lounge with her to ring in the most depressing, stressful New Year’s ever if the answer was no.
Maybe This Christmas Page 23
