Page 15 of Empty Net

The song shifts from slow and romantic to a much more upbeat tune, and just as quickly as the music changes, Lilah breaks away from me, leaving my arms limp at my sides and a sudden desire to drag her back to me.

I tip my head at her. “What?”

“I…” She shakes her head. “Thanks for the dance, Fox.”

Then she turns and pushes through the crowd, vanishing right before my eyes.

Wait. What?

“Lilah!” I call out, trying to reach for her, but it’s useless when everyone around us is already throwing their hands up and shouting as the song instructs.

It feels like prom 2.0 in here. Everyone is suddenly on the floor, nobody aware that Lilah just pulled the fastest disappearing trick of the century, and I’m stuck standing here staring after a ghost.

Lawson jerks me back to reality, grabbing me by the shoulders and tugging me into the mix of dancers. I reluctantly follow him, still glancing out to see where Lilah fled. I can’t see her anywhere now. She’s gone, fading into the crowd and slipping away, the sight of her eyes brimming with tears burned into my mind as Lawson grabs my shoulders, giving me a shake.

“Come on, dude!” he yells. “Dance! New Year, New Year, New Year!”

His chanting is ridiculous, but his excitement is contagious, and I find myself shaking my head, joining in with him anyway. We dance through the song, then another and another, and soon, I have no idea what time it is, just that my mouth is dry and I might die of thirst if I don’t get something to drink soon. I point to the bar, letting Lawson know I’m leaving, and he shakes his head.

“I’m good!” he yells.

I laugh. I wasn’t asking, but whatever. I push through the crowd and make my way back to where my night began: the bar. The bartender remembers me, already starting on a vodka soda, and I nod my thanks. I can’t help but scan the crowd, looking for a silver dress and cerulean eyes.

“Let me guess, you’re looking for Lilah.”

I turn to find Locke beside me, holding my drink in one hand and his own glass in the other. I was so distracted I didn’t even realize the bartender set my order on the bar.

“Thanks,” I say, accepting the booze. “How’d you know?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of what I assume is scotch since it’s his go-to drink whenever we hang out at Top Shelf, the local hockey-themed bar we tend to frequent. “Don’t know. Saw you two dancing and took a guess. I wasn’t aware you were the dancing sort of friends.”

“Just felt like dancing is all.”

He nods but doesn’t look like he believes me, and I don’t believe me either.

“She looks good,” he remarks.

“Hmm” is my only response. Shedidlook good, but I can’t stop thinking about how she peeked up at me like she was seconds away from crying when all I did was speak the truth. It has me curious as hell to know what it was her mother said to her that had her so upset.

“Who are we talking about?” Keller, easily the grumpiest person I’ve ever met, slides up next to us with a beer bottle in his hand, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. He rests his back against the bar, looking at the dance floor with a sneer. “Look at those fucking idiots, all hopelessly in love and shit. Fools.”

I laugh because it’s exactly what Lilah said about them and maybe even something I could have said once upon a time, but not anymore. Now, when I look out at Hutch, Lawson, and Hayes with their girlfriends, all I see is something pure and happy, and that same pang of wanting hits me again.

I shove it down like I always do.

“Remind me why I agreed to come to this thing again?” Keller grumbles.

“Because you know it’s important to your captain,” Locke tells him.

Keller grunts in response, taking another swig from his beer.

“What time is it?” he asks. “I want to get out of here before midnight so I don’t have to see everyone making out with one another.”

I pluck my phone from my pocket to tell him and am shocked when I see the timeandthe missed calls. It’s ten o’clock—I missed calling my parents at midnight their time.Shit.Luckily, I know they’re still awake even though it’s one in the morning there.

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter to the guys as Locke lays into Keller about turning over a new leaf in the new year and being a better teammate like the good veteran hockey guy he is.

I slip past them and through the crowd, pushing open the doors to the balcony, shivering when the cold wind hits me. Although I’ve lived in Seattle for a few years, I’m still not used to the Pacific Northwest winters. This is especially true after growing up down south, where I think I saw a collective two inches of snow my entire childhood.

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