Melting Ice (16 page)

Normally, Isaac put his phone in the back of his locker and never looked at it. Right now he clutched it in his hand and stared at the screen, as if that would make her text him. It’d become a ritual that Avery texted him every night just before the game. Yet she was late tonight, and he feared he might have to go on the ice before seeing her message. Not that he was superstitious or anything, but he took his luck where he could find it. The phone vibrated in his hand, and he glanced down at it.

Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching.

He didn’t realize he had a stupid grin on his face until he caught Blake looking at him strangely.

“Who is she?” Blake asked as he ran a finger over the blade on one skate.

“She? What makes you think it’s a female?”

“Seriously? Unless you’re gay, it’s a female.” Blake raised a brow and snorted. “You’ve been texting back and forth this entire road trip.”

“She’s just a friend.”

“And I’m just a figure skater.” Blake chuckled.

Isaac laughed and pushed himself to his feet. Blake was an okay guy. He appreciated that Blake didn’t talk much and usually minded his own business. If he had to be stuck with a damn roommate, at least it was a quiet guy like Blake instead of an idiot like Brick or Rush.

He’d been just like them once, a randy playboy chasing after his next conquest, even though he’d had an on-again, off-again girlfriend back home. He didn’t have a clue if these guys had girlfriends or if they just did a one-and-done. Whatever it was, an endless stream of puck bunnies fought for their attention and many of them got it.

Isaac bent his head and tapped out a response.
You watching is all the luck I need.

Watch it, Ice, I might have to accuse you of having a heart.

Isaac feared that might be the case, too. A shadow blocked the lights in the room, and Isaac glanced up. Cooper stared down at him, frowning.

Gotta go. Later.

Bye.

Isaac shut off the phone and shoved it in the back of his locker. Cooper studied him for a few more uncomfortable seconds, giving Isaac the feeling he could see right through him. Isaac nodded and kept his head down, fearing Cooper’s shrewd gaze would cut right through any bullshit to Isaac’s guilty, black soul.

“Play the game you’ve been playing,” he said simply. Then he moved on to Blake.

Isaac closed his eyes and shut out the noise around him, preparing himself mentally. They’d won two out of three, and Isaac had played dependable, steady defense. He’d been a rock, a solid contributor, and he’d been—almost—a team player. He’d quit looking at his stats and competing against himself, and actually started thinking about competing against their opponents.

Several minutes later Isaac did lazy warm-up circles on the ice, getting a feel for this particular arena’s ice, which could be problematic at times, with some soft spots here and there.

“Hey,” Brick said, waving Isaac over to the net.

Isaac stopped in front of him. “Yeah?”

“I haven’t said much, but I want to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making my job so much easier when you’re on the ice. You’ve got my back, and I appreciate how hard you work to keep the puck away from the net.”

“You don’t need to thank me for doing my job.”

Brick pushed his helmet back and grinned. “You’re wrong, Ice. I do.” He shoved the blue and green helmet sporting a nasty looking fish with bared teeth down over his eyes and went back to his pre-game drills.

Isaac skated away, and his chest swelled with a feeling so foreign he didn’t have a clue at first what the hell it might be. In fact, he was sitting in the penalty box during the second period when he realized what it was—satisfaction—the kind that comes from being there for your teammate and not just yourself.

He’d never realized being a team player could feel so good.

* * * *

Halfway through the third period, Isaac’s stick intercepted the puck on its way to a sure goal. A sound thwack of the stick sent the puck flying toward the boards behind the net, and Isaac followed. Brick crouched down low, his eyes on the puck.

As a team, they hadn’t given Brick much help during this game, but he’d been a one-man goal stopper. Judging by the sweat pouring down his face under his helmet, he was running out of gas. Isaac was determined to do all he could to give the guy a break, especially after Brick had thanked him before the game—a thanks Isaac wasn’t feeling too deserving of right about now.

Isaac flew toward the boards, ready to mix it up with any poor soul he happened to come into contact with. He lunged at the puck, his stick slashing back and forth on the ice, when someone slammed into him from the side and threw him hard against the glass, so hard it should’ve shattered, but it didn’t. Isaac struggled to right himself and realized his attacker had been his own teammate.

That dickhead Glanden
.

A TV timeout was called as the referees regrouped at the middle of the ice, oblivious to the trouble brewing between teammates near the net. Blinded by fury, Isaac started to pull off his gloves, ignoring the pain that shot up his right side from his ankle to his shoulder and neck.

Strong hands gripped both shoulders, and Isaac glanced from one side to another, his bad temper coursing through him. He was ready to do battle, and at this point he didn’t give a shit if it was with the opposing team or his own teammate.

“Don’t,” said Cooper’s firm voice in his ear.

“Take a deep breath, Ice,” said another, friendlier voice—Blake.

Isaac tried to shake off his teammates, still ready to fight. Glanden stood a few feet away, a satisfied smirk on his face. Isaac imagined wiping the smirk right off the guy’s ugly mug with a hard right jab to his jaw.

“Sorry, you got in the way. Didn’t mean it, man,” Glanden said, sounding insincere.

“Back off,” Cooper snarled at Glanden, sending him a look that should’ve melted all the ice at this end of the arena. Glanden skated backwards, putting space between himself and the captain, his smirk replaced by a worried frown.

Isaac stopped struggling to free himself and shut his eyes momentarily. He counted to ten. He could not get into a fight with his teammate. The guy was baiting him, and he’d be all kinds of a fool to take the bait.

“I’m fine,” Isaac spoke through gritted teeth. Cooper and Blake relaxed their holds.

Cooper studied him for a moment, nodded, and skated away, pausing to say a few choice words to Glanden as he skated past. Isaac couldn’t hear what was said, but by the look on Glanden’s face, he knew he’d stepped over the line, and there’d be hell to pay after the game.

* * * *

Avery saw the almost altercation between teammates and couldn’t stand not knowing how it ended, fearing Isaac might let his infamous temper get the worst of him. While it looked like a couple teammates accidentally got in each other’s way, she knew better. Isaac had shared his issues with Glanden, and the guy had it out for him.

Once the game ended, she texted Isaac.

Is everything okay? Call me
.

Very aware of Isaac’s tenuous position with the team, she worried he’d be blamed for the incident. When he didn’t respond, Avery feared the worst. She paced the floor of her small apartment, pausing on each turn to check the phone sitting on the kitchen counter. Good thing Emma was crashing a party with Izzy and Bella, leaving Avery to fret in privacy.

It was well after ten Pacific time when her phone rang. Isaac’s name showed on the display. Avery grabbed for it, fumbling with the phone and sending it skidding across the tile kitchen floor. She dived for it and punched the Answer button on the sixth ring. “Hi,” she said breathlessly.

“Hey, did I interrupt something?” Isaac’s voice held a hint of amusement, and she relaxed slightly. It couldn’t be all that bad if his voice was any indication.

Her face flamed, and she was grateful he couldn’t see it. “No.”

“Okay.”

Irritated with his one word responses, she pressed on. “What happened with Tom Glanden? The broadcast cut to a commercial, and they didn’t say anything when they returned other than ‘tempers are running hot in this game.’”

“That’s good. Coop and Blake kept me from killing the guy on prime time TV.” Isaac chuckled.

“I’m glad. He’s an ass.”

“Yeah, an even bigger ass than I am, if that’s possible.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not an ass, Isaac.”

He didn’t respond for a very long time, so long she feared he’d disconnected. “I am, Avery. I’m a selfish bastard who doesn’t deserve the friendship of nice people like you or Blake.”

“I disagree. I think you’re a good friend.”

“I think you’re delusional.” He barked out a snort of wry laughter.

“Better delusional than stupid. You guys aren’t home until next Sunday morning?” She couldn’t prevent the disappointment from creeping into her voice.

“Yeah, that’s right. How about we plan to go out to dinner on Sunday night? I’ll treat since you’ve been such a good surrogate parent for my delinquent boxer.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Avery heard a commotion in the background, followed by some colorful swearing.

“Oh, crap. I have to go. My teammates are invading my privacy again.”

“It’s good for you.”

“Yeah, right, forcing a loner to socialize is a good thing.”

His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her, but she chose to ignore it. “It is a good thing. Besides, I don’t believe you’re really a loner—not deep down.”

“Avery, don’t make the mistake of assigning noble human emotions to my actions. You’ll only get your heart broken.”

Avery swallowed. He thought so little of himself. If nothing else came of their friendship, she’d teach Isaac Wolfe that he was worthy of friendship and love, regardless of what others might say and of what Isaac thought himself.

Chapter 12—Kindred Spirits

It was crazy stupid. They were just friends, but Isaac couldn’t wait to see Avery again. As soon as he got home at four AM, he paced his floor until about five-thirty.

Avery was a morning person. He was discovering that most horse people were. Unable to wait any longer, he threw on some sweats and a hoodie and took off for a run in the misty morning air. Fog hung over the hay field and his breath came out in gray puffs. He ran a few laps around the field until he saw lights flip on in the barn. He couldn’t contain his grin as he changed direction and sprinted for the barn.

The road trip had been a successful one. The team won four out of six and Coach was happy. Isaac played hard, scrappy hockey. With the exception of a few times in the sin bin, he kept his nose relatively clean. He expected to be called on the carpet for the altercation with his own teammate but instead Coach benched Glanden for the remainder of the road trip, warning him if it happened again, he’d be gone.

Glanden heeded Coach’s warning and avoided Isaac, acting as if he didn’t exist, which suited Isaac just fine. They didn’t have to like each other in order to play on the same team. They only needed to leave their personal issues off the ice. In the past, Isaac wouldn’t have been able to do that, now he didn’t have a choice. He suspected Glanden was biding his time, waiting to catch Isaac in a moment of weakness before he pounced. Glanden wanted him off the team, and Isaac would be damned if he’d let that slimy weasel ruin his NHL career. He had to admit he sort of liked playing for Seattle, and if that opportunity got screwed up, he’d be solely responsibly, not some dickwad out to jerk his chain.

Pausing in front of the barn to catch his breath, Isaac pushed open the double doors wide enough to squeeze his body through and stepped into the dark aisle. His heart pounded in his chest, and he’d be delusional if he attributed the pounding solely to his recent run. His heart rate wasn’t speeding into overdrive because of exercise. Hell, no, it was the thrill of seeing Avery after two long weeks.

A dim overhead light illuminated the blackness. Feeling in his pocket for the chocolate mint, he grinned as he walked past all the horses with their heads over their stall doors. They nickered a soft greeting, and he touched a velvety nose here and there. He’d have never believed it himself, but he liked the horses. They were honest and unpretentious. What he saw was what he got.

Not seeing Avery anywhere, he stopped at Onyx’s stall. As usual, the black horse stood with his butt toward Isaac, his head buried in the corner.

“Hey, Nyx, you badass. You don’t fool me one damn bit, buddy, ’cuz you and I are two of a kind, hiding behind a smoke screen of anger and foul temper.”

Onyx swished his tail and stomped one front foot on the ground. Isaac took a careful step forward. The horse spun around, teeth bared, and charged the stall. Isaac stood his ground, not moving or reacting. Onyx stopped within inches of the stall bars. His brown eyes narrowed with mistrust, his entire body one tense coil of fear cloaked in anger.

Yeah, fear
. Isaac could’ve guessed that. Isaac used his anger as a shield and pretended he wasn’t afraid of anything—but sometimes he wondered if it wasn’t the exact opposite. Maybe he was actually afraid of everything—being alone, being rejected, not measuring up, not being good enough.

Not being worthy of love
.

“Hey, buddy, I get it. But it’s a helluva way to live your life, you know. Take it from a guy who’s been there and is still there. Don’t be like me.”

Onyx’s ears swiveled back and forth. Isaac wasn’t sure what that meant—he didn’t understand horse body language—but the animal wasn’t gnashing his teeth or preparing to attack him again.

Isaac dropped the mint into the feeder and waited. Onyx waited, too, watching him. The black animal kept glancing at the feeder and the treat. Only when Isaac backed up a few steps did Onyx snatch the mint. He whirled around to his corner, but Isaac heard him munching away on the mint. Onyx turned his head and looked as if he were hoping there might be more.

“Sorry, big guy, next time I’ll bring a few more, but I’m guessing I can’t load you up on sugar. Probably not a good thing.”