It Had to Be You (Christiansen Family) (22 page)

“My heart is in my job! I feel bad for the kid. He doesn’t have anyone.”

Charlotte considered her, eyes narrowing. Then she walked around the cubicle and held out her hand. Eden gave her the note, and she read it at arm’s length, not using her readers. “You’d have to be Bob Woodward to get anything out of this.” She handed the message back to Eden. “Has he passed yet?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. I’m going to the hospital after work, but I hope not.”

“Then it’s not our department. Kendra, a word, please?”

Kendra made a face behind Charlotte’s back as she followed their editor to her office.

Deflated, Eden looked at the slip of paper. Charlotte wasn’t wrong
 
—the message was too vague to be of any real help. How many hundreds of kids hung out after school, shooting hoops at any one of the handful of community centers in St. Paul?

And clearly, unless Doe passed away, he wouldn’t get a mention in the paper. Maybe not even then. What if he was a runaway or
a thief? Maybe he’d committed a crime, and she would just bring unknown pain to his family
 
—if she found them.

Maybe her heart was
too much
in her job.

She folded the note into a tiny square, shoved it into her dress pocket, and reached for her stack of obits. She had enough notices to keep her typing for a week.

Kendra came back but said nothing, disappearing into her cubicle. Eden heard her typing and couldn’t help it. She leaned around the edge. “So what did she want?”

“Nothing.”

“Kendra
 
—”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

Now Eden had a fist in her stomach. “What?”

Kendra kept typing, her shoulders rising and falling, as she said, “Charlotte’s got vacation time in two weeks, and she’s leaving me in charge.”

Eden tried to breathe, but a ball of heat caught in her throat. She swallowed past it and found her voice. “That’s great, Kendra.”

Kendra turned in her chair. “For the record, I didn’t ask her for it. I don’t even want it. I suggested she ask you, but she told me you were chasing too many rabbit trails
 
—” She winced. “I think what you’re doing is amazing.”

“No, this was a bad idea. What if he’s a criminal or something?” Although something in her gut told her the opposite. But maybe that was wishful thinking. “What if he doesn’t even want to be found
 
—if he’s hiding? This whole thing was a weak attempt to be something I’m not.”

Kendra wore a question in her expression.

“A real reporter. I thought I saw a great story. . . . What if it’s just a wild-goose chase?”

“Then it’s a wild-goose chase with Jace Jacobsen.”

Kendra smiled, but Eden couldn’t match it. She wanted it to be more. Needed it to be more.

“I have work to do. Congrats, Kendra. Really.” Eden pressed her arm before escaping behind her cubicle wall. She put in her earphones and hit Play on her voice mail, taking dictation.

She avoided Kendra at lunch, eating a stale chicken salad sandwich from the deli, staring at the message from Zach.

When Eden punched out, she debated, then drove toward St. Paul.

What was she doing? Showing up after Jace’s practice like a rabid fan? She should turn the car around before he had a chance to break her heart.

But Jace had texted twice since his voice mail, asking again if he might see her after practice, and the sweetness of it, the hope his affection might be real, drew her in.

She pulled into the private section of the lot, sat in her car
 
—no, Owen’s car
 
—letting it idle. Finally, when she spied Kalen emerging, his blond hair wet, she got out and walked to the ramp.

Her boots echoed against the cement garage, and she pulled her green pashmina scarf up to her neck
 
—she’d found it and a wool coat in her closet from the early postcollege days when she still went out on interviews.

Kalen gestured toward the entrance. “Owen will be out in a minute. He was talking to Coach. Nice to have him back.”

Owen was here? “Uh, thanks, Kalen.”

He nodded, and a few other players came out after him, greeted her. She shivered. Maybe she should get back in the car
 
—

“Eden? What are you doing here?” Owen’s voice preceded him as he stalked out of the tunnel. “I hope you brought my car.”

For a second, she didn’t recognize the kid who made her do his laundry, flung an easy arm around any number of the girls who followed him from game to game. This was an older, less reckless version of the boy who’d languished on her sofa just this morning. He wore dress pants, a pullover sweater, a pair of aviator glasses on his head that pushed his hair back, still wet as if he’d showered. He’d even trimmed his beard.

“I came . . . Yeah, I have your car.”

“Good. Gimme the keys. I had to catch a ride with Graham today.”

That explained it. Graham, his agent, had decided to help Owen straighten out his life. Well, at least he was listening to somebody.

“I don’t think you should be driving, Owen. You can’t see out of one of your eyes.”

“I can see just fine.”

Was that what he was telling everyone? She lowered her voice. “Owen, you didn’t practice today, did you? You know what the doctor said
 
—”

“I don’t care what the doc said. I’m fine. I can see fine. Now give me my car keys.” He took a step toward her, something unfamiliar in his eyes.

She closed her hand around them. “No.”

“Sis, I’m telling you right now, give me my keys or
 
—”

“Or what, Owen?”

Her breath caught at the sound of Jace’s voice, the way it cut, blade-sharp, through the dark corridor. He walked into the light like a Viking warrior, his hair combed back. He carried a bag over his shoulder, his leather jacket open over black jeans and a black pullover.

When his eyes met Eden’s, her heart simply stopped. Oh, he was way too handsome for her to think straight.

Owen rounded on him, his voice low. “It’s my car, Jace, and I want it.”

Jace glanced at Eden.

“The doctor said he can’t drive until he’s been cleared. He has no peripheral vision.”

“Sheesh, Eden. Do you think you could say that louder? I don’t think management heard you.”

“This isn’t a secret, Owen. The entire team knows.” She looked at Jace, who had his mouth in a tight line. “Don’t they?”

“He showed up for practice today, even though he’s on injured reserve. Was on the ice, skating before practice.”

“What
 
—?”

“And then your boyfriend here played babysitter and told me to get off the ice. I ended up sitting the bench, thank you oh so much, Captain America.”

“Hey, I’m on your side here
 
—”

Owen swore and Eden gasped. He gave her a look of disgust but didn’t stop as he unloaded on Jace. “You just don’t want me to play. You know that if I play, you’re back to being the tough guy. If I come back, you’re nobody.”

“Owen
 
—”

“It’s true. Ask him, Eden.” Owen’s mouth opened as realization gathered in his eyes. “Wait
 
—you’re not here for me, are you? You came to meet
him
.” He nodded, holding up his hand. “I was right. You’ve already changed sides.”

“Owen, there’s no side
 
—”

“No problem, Sis. I don’t need you anyway. I’m going to get
back on my feet, back on the line, and I’m tired of you hovering over me. Please, just give me my keys and stay out of my life.”

He snaked out his hand and grabbed the keys, tearing them from her grip. She cried out, and Jace took a step toward Owen.

“What
 
—you want to go at it again, Jace?” Owen snarled.

Again?

But Jace shook his head. “You’re a jerk, Owen.”

“Learned it all from you, J-Hammer.” He threw the keys in the air, caught them. “If you want something, you gotta fight for it, right?” He turned and walked out into the parking lot.

Eden watched him go, not sure if she wanted to cry or slap him.

“You okay?” Jace said.

No. “He’s not right, you know. You’re not that guy.”

“Maybe I am.”

She wanted to argue, but he came forward, letting the duffel slip off his shoulder onto the ground. Then he hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

The strength in his movement chased the breath out of her chest, and she steadied herself with her hands on his jacket.

“Hey,” he said softly, smiling down at her with a sudden, devastating tenderness. “I’m glad you’re here for me.” He bent down and gently kissed her. He smelled of soap, with a hint of his hard work at practice still embedded in his skin, and his kiss was so achingly sweet that she felt all the tension from her fight with Owen dissolve into a warm puddle. She pressed her hands against the sculpted muscle of his chest and let him mold her to himself as his other hand wove into her hair, his lips parting hers, deliciously, even dangerously.

If this was the kind of greeting she could expect . . . yeah, she could hang around after practice.

She kissed him back, the emotion of the fight adding a bit more ardor than she knew she possessed. But, well, Jace brought out more of her than she knew she possessed.

He finally leaned back, smiled, warmth in his eyes. But then he winced.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt in practice? How’s your knee?”

“Nothing a little TLC won’t fix,” he said, winking.

She twined her fingers into his curly hair. Rose up on her toes for another kiss. Okay, being a rink bunny might not be such a terrible thing.

“What do you mean you don’t want to look for him anymore?” Jace tried not to let his voice emerge too loud, but he couldn’t calculate well with the ringing in his ears. Every word she said
 
—and he said
 
—brought pain, and he just needed to get home, lie down, and drape a cold cloth over his eyes.

The events of today’s practice certainly hadn’t helped. But he wasn’t going to throw down his gloves against a teammate, even if every time he looked at Owen, something nearly exploded inside him. It had taken all his strength
 
—and a couple of the guys watching him
 
—to walk away, let Owen skate it off.

He actually felt pity for the kid, showing up with his gear, a full cage added to his helmet to protect him. Jace knew that getting back on the ice and playing hard exorcised demons. Helped a guy work out his frustrations.

So, yeah, after the tussle with Owen, Jace had practiced hard and worked up an aching sweat, his shots on goal like lightning.

He probably should have expected to walk out of practice with the niggling of a migraine, but he’d gone nearly a week without a headache and thought he could shake it away with a cool shower, a nice dinner with Eden.

However, as he drove them to his condo, the pain moved to the front of his brain, starting to pulse. But he’d been looking forward to seeing Eden all day and wasn’t going to let a headache keep him from showing her that they could make this work. Have a normal relationship.

He tried to focus on her words, the explanation she offered for wanting to quit their search for John Doe. He didn’t know why, but the suggestion put a rock in his gut.

“I didn’t say that, Jace. We’ve just hit a dead end. Zach came back with some lame, vague information about a community center, and I think that’s all we’re getting from him.”

“I could go back and see if he might be more helpful,” Jace said, trying not to wince.

She put a hand on his arm. “No, it’s okay.”

He glanced at her, tried a smile, but he felt pretty sure it looked more like a grimace.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded, and wow, his brain slammed against his skull.

Just get home. Rest. He could still have a nice evening with Eden.

“Besides, my editor is angry that I’m working on this
 
—so mad that she even put Kendra, my coworker, in charge when she goes on vacation. I can’t believe it
 
—I’ve been there about four years longer than she has, and she gets
 
—really, Jace, you look pale.”

“I just need food.” He downshifted, then hit the brakes as traffic piled up, and pain exploded through his head. He wanted to cry as he sucked in a breath.

“Listen, we don’t have to
 
—”

“I already ordered!”

Shoot, that came out louder, sharper than he meant. “Sorry.”

She gave him a feeble smile, but he’d hurt her. He put his hand out and caught hers even as he pulled into his underground garage. The shadows made him blink. He touched his brakes and fought to focus. The garish underground lights strobed in his eyes, and his headache pulsed in reply.

He pulled into his space and got out. Eden hung her bag over her shoulder and followed him to the elevator.

“I don’t think we should give up, Eden. What if he needs us?” He reached for her hand, found it, and held on, bracing his other hand on the wall.

“You don’t look so good.”