It Had to Be You (Christiansen Family) (17 page)

“Were you an enforcer as a kid?”

“No. I was tough, but I was all talent back then.”

All talent. So that’s what he’d lost and what he’d gotten back over the last two games. “You still have talent, Jace.”

He glanced at her, warmth in his eyes. “Thanks.”

Others came to sit next to them in the bleachers, cheering on their team. Not a fan glanced their way, no one interested in the lumberjack in the stands.

Didn’t they know hockey? Didn’t they recognize something odd about the man sitting beside her? Did all of Deep Haven live in a vacuum?

“When I first started playing, we had an outdoor rink,” Jace said quietly. “My mom used to come by after her shift. I’d be playing under the lights, and suddenly she’d appear as if she’d been there all along. I always played better with her in the stands. She even played, you know. For her high school. International Falls has
a girls’ team, and she was a left wing like me. She used to get out on the ice with me on Saturdays, before work, and help me with my puck-handling skills.”

“She sounds like a good mom.”

“She was a great mom. A guy couldn’t ask for better. When I got my contract with the Wild, she moved to St. Paul. Even went to the practices.”

No wonder he had lost himself when she died.

Eden wanted to slip her hand into his, but that would only attract attention. The wind whipped up, chapped her nose, and she scooted closer to him.

“My brothers used to play here at this rink. But when the team got bigger, they had to share the rink with the high school in the next county. We used to drive an hour for practices. I’d bring a book while they played.” She tucked her mittens between her knees. “One time, we had a tournament there, a whole-day event. Everyone carpooled, and I had settled myself in the food and game room overlooking the ice.”

The red team
 
—the locals
 
—broke away on a power play. A defenseman passed the puck off to a forward, who missed it and chased it into a corner.

“When they packed up, it was chaos, and somehow I got left behind.”

Jace was looking at her now, frowning. “By yourself?”

“Yeah. The place went dark, and I realized I was alone. I was about thirteen. I thought they forgot me. Which, of course, they did. It took three hours for someone to come back for me.”

“And you sat there in the dark the entire time?”

“Singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ and other Sunday school songs to myself, yeah.”

“Oh, Eden.”

She waved him away. “It’s okay. I understood. Hockey came first, and if I didn’t start joining in instead of burying my nose in a book, I’d be left behind. So I became head cheerleader.”

He was still looking at her, so much confusing emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t meet them. Why had she told him that? She gave a wry chuckle. “I’d make the perfect hockey mom.”

He sighed. “Yes, actually, you would.”

The period whistle blew, and the teams skated into the warming house.

“Are we done here?” Eden asked.

“But we still have one more period left.”

“Jace, seriously, you play hockey every day. You want to sit here and watch a bunch of little kids?”

Someone glanced at her at the mention of his name. Jace saw it too, the way people began to nudge their friends, gesture to him. He ducked his head. “Right, okay, let’s go.”

Now she felt like a jerk. “No
 
—you said you like peewee hockey. We can stay.”

“Not if we don’t want to draw headlines. But maybe . . . maybe you do.” He got up and marched down the stands. They shook with his steps.

Eden followed, the stares of the crowd at her back.

What? Headlines were the last things she wanted.

He wasn’t all that bright, but Jace felt just this side of brilliant as he trekked out to Casper’s fishing house.

A six-by-six square box of plain plywood on skids, the ice house looked more like an oversize outhouse than a hangout. Casper
had attached it to his snowmobile to drag it out to the center of the lake
 
—Jace had watched him as he headed out with a thermos of hot cocoa right after lunch. When Jace finished helping Grace with dishes, he’d left Eden playing Candy Land with Tiger.

Casper seemed the one most likely to confirm what Jace suspected.

As soon as the words about a headline had left his mouth, a light sparked in Jace’s head, something that should have been accompanied by the applause of the crowd, maybe a few fireworks. See, despite being clobbered too many times with a hockey stick, he still had some brains.

Eden
wanted
the headlines.

She didn’t feel noticed. Or wanted. And somehow, standing at the edge of Owen’s
 
—and Jace’s
 
—lives, poking her toe into the limelight, made it better.

While that should bother him, he knew
 
—just
knew
 
—that she probably didn’t even realize it. That she hadn’t invited him to Deep Haven to exploit him. Not after the way she’d gone white at his words in the stands, silently followed him to the Charger, and apologized for drawing attention to them.

He didn’t care. Let the entire town of Deep Haven tweet it out. He could easily explain it away as hanging out with his teammate Owen.

Except that Owen had barely spoken to him at lunch, appearing with his face unbandaged, bruised but healing, dressed in pajama pants and an old T-shirt. He’d eaten his soup, then headed back down to the family room, turning on the television.

The awkward silence went with him, and Jace had to admit he breathed a sigh of relief with the rest of the family. Except for Eden, who had appeared pained at the entire interaction.

So much for trying to help Owen out of his funk. He’d figure out how later. At the moment, Jace was here for Eden.

Because she was his friend.

He knocked on the ice house door, then eased it open. Casper sat on a bench before a foot-wide hole in the ground, his line deep in the chilly abyss. He wore insulated pants and another pair of Sorels
 
—the Christiansens had a plethora of outdoor wear by their front door. He’d hung his jacket on a peg behind him and now wore only a thick sweater, an orange ski hat over his long hair.

Casper looked up as Jace entered. “’Sup?”

“Your mom sent cookies to go with the hot cocoa.” Jace handed him a paper bag. “You should be aware of the personal willpower it took not to finish those on my way out. Frankly, I’m not sure I won’t fight you for them even now.”

“Bring it, J-Hammer,” Casper said. “I’ll throw down the gloves for my mom’s chocolate chip–butterscotch cookies.” He took the bag, opened it. “I just wish they would help my luck. Nothing but a couple nibbles so far.”

Jace sat on an overturned white bucket. “I don’t get the fascination, I admit it. Hours staring into a hole
 
—”

“Think of it as hunting for treasure, but the treasure comes to you.” He dunked his cookie in the thermos. The moisture dribbled down his chin. “I can teach you.”

“Nope. Actually, I came out here to talk to you about Eden.”

Casper raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“She told me this story today about being left at an ice arena as a kid.”

“Oh, that’s a legendary Christiansen family tale. She was stuck in a book as usual and got left behind. My poor mom didn’t even know until the Caravan got back to Deep Haven. They thought
she’d gone with someone else. I think Mom broke a few traffic laws getting back to the arena.”

“Scary.”

“Yeah, Mom was terrified.”

“No, for Eden.”

Casper frowned. “What? No, Eden was fine. We found her sitting in the entryway, singing. Totally unfazed. But that’s Eden. She just rolls, you know.”

“Seriously? Imagine you’re thirteen and all alone
 
—”

“Dude, I was hunting and fishing by myself by the time I was ten. And trust me, Eden knows how to take care of herself. And others.”

“Yeah, she’s all about taking care of others, isn’t she?”

Casper finished his cookie. “It’s what she does. Like Grace
 
—she cooks. And Amelia, she takes photos. Owen plays hockey, and Eden . . . Eden cheers us all on.”

“Yes.” Jace sighed. “But she’s also patient and smart and doesn’t pull her punches, yet she knows when to say the right thing.”

“You’re right about not pulling her punches.” Casper picked up his pole. Gave it a tug. “Nope.”

“And she loves Sinatra and Michael Bublé.”

“Who?”

“And she has a vivid imagination. She believes everyone has a story.”

“That’s because she writes about them all day long. She’s a reporter, after all.”

No, actually, she wasn’t. But she wanted to be.

Casper hooked his pole into the stand, then leaned back. Considered Jace. “Do you have a thing for my sister?”

“What?” But his voice emerged too high. Jace straightened it
out. “No . . . I mean, we’re friends, but that’s it.” Even to his own ears it sounded a little . . . flimsy.

And Casper saw right through him. “Mm-hmm. Okay, listen, not that I’m totally against you liking her, but let’s be clear here. Eden has my back. So I have hers. You hurt her, and I don’t care who you are, J-Hammer. I’ll find you.”

The weirdness of the conversation nearly made Jace smile. Except Casper appeared completely serious.

Wow. He hadn’t had someone stand up to him, give him a line in the sand, for years. He liked it, liked this family, who didn’t treat him as if they might be afraid of him.

“I’m here for Owen.”

Casper nodded. “Sure you are. Because you and Owen are spending
so
much time together.”

Fair enough. Jace ran his hands over his thighs. “Okay, so yeah, Eden . . . she’s special. Really special, which I realize sounds sort of lame, but I like spending time with her. She’s not like any other girl I’ve met.”

Casper was watching him.

“She doesn’t spook easily, and she . . . she doesn’t look at me with a weird sort of fascination. She makes me feel normal, I guess.”

“And you like feeling normal?”

“Maybe I just like the fact that someone enjoys my company without having to tweet about it.” Or at least, until today, he’d thought she did. No, he still believed that.

Casper’s pole bent, and he jumped for it. “I got a bite!” He let it play in his hands a moment, then jerked hard. “Just had to set the hook.”

Jace watched as he began to reel in, the pole bending with the fight of the fish. “Wow, that’s a doozy.”

Casper kept reeling. “The key to fishing is to capture their interest, hook them, and then not let the tension ease up, or they can shake free of the hook and get away.”

Jace leaned over the hole, seeing if he could spot the fish.

“Grab the net.” Casper gestured behind him.

Jace retrieved the net, lowering it into the water. He spied the white belly of the fish as Casper reeled it closer.

“Easy now . . .”

Jace dipped it deep and came up with the fish, squirming, fighting in the net. He brought it over the ice, and Casper reached in to unhook it and grabbed it by the gills.

Jace got up. “Nice fish.”

“Worth the wait,” Casper said, winking.

Eden stood at the window, the smell of her mother’s cookies twining through her, enjoying Tiger’s laugh as he listened to his iPad story through earphones. Jace had trekked outside after Casper as if he liked to fish or something.

“He’s a nice man, your Jace.”

She glanced at her mother. “He’s not
my
Jace. He’s here to cheer up Owen.”

Ingrid wiped her hands, set the towel on the counter. “Right. Of course. But I did see him watching you over lunch. And you, him.”

Eden lifted a shoulder. “It’s just because I can’t believe that he is actually here, in our home. He’s . . . different than I imagined.”

“That’s what happens when you get to know someone
 
—they turn out to be more than you expect.”

“I don’t want him here.”

Ingrid and Eden both turned at Owen’s voice. He had emerged from his hovel in the basement, looking as if he’d slept in his clothes. Apparently his damaged eye affected his ability to bathe. “I don’t know why you brought him, Eden, except maybe to shove my face in the fact that I can’t play anymore.”