Authors: Ekaterina Sedia
Feeling a little better, Lexa asked the blonde who she was rooting for.
“Ryan Collins, but not for long.”
“Why?”
“He’s lost interest in life. Ryan’s turned as cold as the ice he skates on. If you’re smart, don’t get involved with Aiden.”
“Oh. No, I’m not . . . He just . . . ” The game started, saving her.
With the blonde’s comments fresh in her mind, Lexa paid attention to the Ice Men. Since she had seen them last, they had improved in every way—skating, passing, working as a team. Yet when they scored a goal, they didn’t celebrate. No one raised a stick or smiled or slapped each other despite the crowd’s roar.
Deep in the third period, Aiden scored his hat trick. He pumped a fist and smiled at Lexa.
The blonde leaned close to her ear. “Maybe you should stick around. Aiden’s showing signs of life.”
The buzzer signaled another win for the team. Spectators filed out as the players lined up to slap hands. Lexa debated. Should she go?
As the teams broke apart and headed off ice, Aiden caught her eye. He put his hand up in a stopping motion and pointed down as if he wanted her to wait for him. She nodded. He gave her a thumbs up.
A strange tingling on her skin caused her to look across the ice. Coach Hakim stared at her. His hard expression unreadable, but she sensed trouble in his gaze. She shivered, and pulled her jacket closer. When she risked another peek, the coach had disappeared.
The stands were almost empty when a familiar voice called her name. Jason and the girlfriend stood a few rows down from her. They held hands.
How cute.
She braced for the dagger of pain, but felt nothing.
“I thought you didn’t like hockey,” Jason said.
She shrugged. “It grew on me.”
“Sure it did.” His sarcastic tone suggested otherwise. “Don’t you think this is a little pathetic?” He smirked.
“What is?”
“Coming here so you’d run into me, hoping I’d see you and regret dumping you.”
The girlfriend giggled.
When they’d been dating, they’d always done what he wanted, and never did anything she enjoyed. She studied Jason and wondered how she could have fallen in love with him.
“Get over yourself, Jason. I didn’t come here for you,” she said.
“Yeah? Then why did you come?”
“Because I invited her,” Aiden said. He held a hockey stick, and his hair was still wet from a shower.
Jason gaped and stammered.
“Ready to go?” Aiden asked her, holding out his free hand.
“Yep. I’m so done.” Without hesitating, she took his hand. They left the rink as if they were a couple. From the moment she touched him, she felt as if they’d been a couple for years. That kind of thinking would only lead her in one direction, back into the valley of pain where she’s been wallowing since May.
When they reach the parking lot in front of the pavilion, Aiden let go. “Sorry about that, but when I heard that son-of-a-bitch gloating . . . It was either that or I was going to punch him.”
“And ruin another shirt for me? I couldn’t handle the guilt.”
Aiden laughed. He stopped next to a black Honda Accord and unlocked the trunk. Tossing the hockey stick in, he closed it. “I’m starving. Do you want to go get something to eat?”
Her heart danced in her chest, but she replied with—she hoped—a casual tone. “Sure.”
“Great. Hop in.” He opened the door for her.
So polite.
She slid into the passenger seat.
He settled behind the wheel. “Almost forgot.” Reaching into the back, he grabbed her baseball cap. “I picked this up after the paramedics left. Yours?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“You don’t seem the baseball cap type,” he said.
“I’m not, but it helps disguise me when I’m outside alone.”
“You could arrange for an escort.”
“I could.”
He shook his head. “Do you mind if we go to Bellefonte for dinner? If I eat around campus, I get a bunch of drunk guys telling me how fabulous I am.” He gave her a wry grin. “I don’t mind being told I’m fabulous by drunk
girls
.”
“It must suck to be famous,” she said.
“Yep. Poor me.”
Lexa laughed. For the first time in months her stomach growled with hunger instead of swirling with nausea. For the first time the thought of her sister didn’t cause intense pain.
“Did you enjoy the game?” Aiden asked.
“Yes. But the players looked too serious.”
Aiden kept his focus on the road. “Coach doesn’t like us to celebrate goals. He thinks it’s poor sportsmanship. Actually, he tells us to leave all our emotions in the locker room. He says pre-game jitters, anger, or just stressing over a test can all get in the way of our performance.”
“That strategy is definitely working. No penalties, fights, plus the bonus of being undefeated.”
“Yeah. It’s nice.”
She sensed a but.
“How’s your neck?” he asked, changing the subject.
After dinner, Aiden drove her home. Before she opened the car door, he handed her a stack of hockey tickets.
“This isn’t going to help my thermodynamics grade,” she said.
“No problem, I got an A in thermo last semester.”
“Of course you did. Can you turn metal into gold, too?” she teased.
“All the time. Except for my hockey skates, they’re platinum—gold is too soft.”
She stood there grinning like an idiot as he drove away. She knew it couldn’t last, that he would leave her, too. At least when she hit bottom this time, it would be at full speed and cause major carnage.
Over the next five days, she saw Aiden every day. They either went to dinner after a game, or he helped her with thermodynamics. Officer Reed called her mid-week to report that they had caught a wild dog on campus. He wanted her to identify it. Aiden skipped practice to drive her to the pound on Thursday afternoon.
“Won’t your coach be upset?” she asked.
“Not for this.”
“Why not?”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Lexa, I need a favor.”
“Sure.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
She shrugged. “Considering all you’ve done for me, it would have to be a crime for me to say no.” She kept her tone light.
Instead of smiling, Aiden grimaced.
Uh oh
.
He stopped at a red light. Meeting her gaze, he said, “I want you to tell Officer Reed that the dog they caught
was
the one that attacked you even if it isn’t.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain later, although it’s hard to believe. Christ, I don’t believe it myself sometimes.”
“But if it’s the wrong dog, then the right one might attack—”
“Won’t happen. I promise no one will be harmed again.”
The light turned green. Aiden released Lexa from his intense scrutiny. Her emotions balanced on the edge, teetering toward the plunge. She touched her neck. Another turtleneck covered the bandages. The stitches would come out next week.
As the silence lengthened, she puzzled out the only logical explanation for his request. “Your dog attacked me.”
“I don’t have a dog.”
A painful knot tightened her throat. “Did you see what attacked me?”
“No. Yes. It’s complicated.”
Shit.
The bottom rose to meet her.
Aiden pulled into the pound’s lot. “Please do this, and I swear, I’ll explain everything.”
Officer Reed met them in the lobby. “Ready?” he asked.
Lexa nodded. It was all she could manage. They entered the back room, and the dogs immediately started barking.
The volunteer seemed surprised. “Must be the uniform,” he muttered.
The accused dog matched Lexa’s description. The huge Mastiff had a black muzzle, and it had black stripes on a fawn-colored coat, which could be mistaken for gray in the dark. It growled, baring its sharp teeth when it spotted them. Its tail tucked under its body.
Without warning, a clear image from the attack flashed in her mind. This dog didn’t match at all. The muzzle was too droopy, the ears weren’t cropped, no white on its face, and it didn’t have long whiskers.
Whiskers?
Aiden stood behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders as if he lent her support. Officer Reed eyed him with interest. Conflicting emotions struggled for dominance, Lexa didn’t know what to do. However, she believed Aiden when he promised no one else would be hurt.
“That’s the one,” she said.
“Really?” The volunteer scratched his goatee. “Normally, he’s a real sweetheart.”
“It’s obvious he doesn’t like her,” Officer Reed said. “Case closed!”
Aiden kept quiet as he drove toward campus.
Unable to endure the silence, Lexa said, “You were going to explain.”
“I will in Coach Hakim’s office. You—”
“Take me home.” The blonde at the game had been right, it’s all about hockey. Aiden had probably been running with the Coach’s dog that morning.
“But don’t you—”
“No. I don’t care. I just killed a perfectly good dog for you. We’re done.”
“But you
need
to talk to Coach.”
Fear’s icy fingers squeezed. “Are you kidnapping me?”
“No.” He drove her back to Runkle Hall.
Returning to her dorm room, she plopped on her bed, feeling numb. Her phone rang.
If that’s Aiden
. . . It was Ben. Disappointment stabbed.
How crazy is that?
“I’ll pick you up at four twenty-five tomorrow,” Ben said.
“Tomorrow?”
“Campus weather. Remember?”
Barely. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I have pepper spray, and I need to do it myself. Like that old adage about getting back on the wagon.”
“Getting back on the horse,” he corrected. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Except she wasn’t fine. Not at all. She stood outside Runkle Hall the next morning, holding her phone in one hand and the pepper spray in another. Convinced a huge dog lurked in every shadow, she couldn’t move.
“Lexa?”
She spun ready to push buttons when she recognized Ben. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“Sorry.”
“What are you doing here?”
He gave her a don’t-be-stupid look.
She drew in a deep breath. “Sorry. Thanks for coming.”
“I’m surprised Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor isn’t here. You guys have been spending all your time together.”
They headed west on Curtain Road.
“You were right about him,” she said. “But you’re not allowed to gloat.”
“Not even a little?”
“Nope.” After a couple minutes, she asked, “Do you know if there are any she-woman men haters clubs around that I can join?”
“Nope, but I’m sure my fellow he-mans won’t have any trouble swearing off men.”
The morning weather shift flew by. Lexa had an hour before her first class. She wasted time surfing the net instead of working on her thermo homework. Curious, Lexa pulled up pages on various big cats found in Pennsylvania, searching for one that matched the image in her mind. None. Remembering a neighbor who owned an exotic pet shop, she expanded to panthers and tigers. On Wikipedia, she leaned forward, clicking on the pictures of tigers to enlarge them. A wave of nausea hit her.
That’s close.
Except the creature that attacked her wasn’t orange, but gray.
Following a few links, Lexa found an article about a subspecies of the South Chinese Tiger which was rumored to have a slate-gray coloration called a Maltese Tiger. She swallowed as she peered at the artist’s rendering.
Bingo.
What was Aiden doing with a tiger? He had wanted her to talk to Coach Hakim. She read Coach Hakim’s bio online. He was born in the city of Surabaya, East Java, Indonesia. He spent every free moment of his childhood playing hockey. In 1980, he started skating for the Hong Kong Tigers.
The team’s name triggered a connection. Hong Kong was near South China. She read on. Hakim became head coach of the Tigers in 2003. After the Tigers won every single tournament in Asia, Coach Hakim was hired by Penn State.
When asked why Hakim moved half way around the world, he replied that he loved a challenge, and wanted to show Penn State fans that hockey was, “the coldest [coolest] game on earth.” The brackets translated the Coach’s meaning since English wasn’t his first language. From what Lexa knew about Hakim’s players, perhaps he had meant coldest.
She mulled over all the information. Did the coach own a Maltese Tiger? A tiger breed that has never been seen before?
The World Wildlife Foundation would freak.
She startled when Ben tapped her on the shoulder.
“You missed thermo again,” he said. “Do you want to copy my notes?”
“Uh. Sure.”
Ben studied her. “Is Depressed Girl back?”
Lexa examined her psyche as if probing a sore tooth with her tongue. An ache for her sister flared, but nothing like the all consuming grief. “No. Depressed Girl is gone.”
“That calls for a celebration.”
“No time. I have to work on thermo for Monday’s test or I
will
fail the class.”
“I can help you with thermo. After all, I nursed you through meteorological instrumentation.”
“Thanks. Where?” she asked.
He gestured to the weather center. “This place is a ghost town on Friday nights. We’ll start right after dinner.”
After Ben left, she searched a few more sites on Asian ice hockey and tigers. She uncovered an odd link to a write up about a folk legend popular in Java, Indonesia that claimed were-tigers existed. When killed by a were-tiger, a man would lose his soul. The victim couldn’t reclaim his soul until he, in turn, killed another. Villagers in Java would watch the men closely, seeking the signs of soullessness—cold, emotionless, and without joy.
That description could easily describe the Ice Men. Which was ridiculous—another example of Lexa’s overactive imagination. Besides Aiden hadn’t acted like that at all. Without thought her fingers stroked her neck.
Even with thermodynamics to occupy her mind, Lexa felt Aiden’s absence. It started with a sense of loss. She couldn’t focus at all on Saturday night especially not during game time. Exasperated with her lack of concentration, Ben called it a night. They headed to the G-man to have the first men hater’s club meeting.