Page 40 of On the Line

“What happened?” Morgan asks, her eyes huge and the concern evident in her voice.

“I just ran into Jameson.”

Petra looks amused, like she’s watching a movie with a really good plot twist.

“And ...?” Jackson asks, leaning around Petra to look at me.

“Apparently I’m wearing his jersey.”

They all look at me like I just saidThe Earth is round.

“Like, one of hisactualjerseys,” I say, feeling like I’m about to hyperventilate, “that he used to wear when he played.”

“And how did he react tothat?” Petra asks, her lips quirking up into a sly smile.

“He said I saved him the trouble of having to rip the jersey off me if I’d had someone else’s name on my back.” My heart is racing so fast I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a heart attack.

“Holy shit, that’s hot,” Petra says. “What did you do?”

“I don’t even know. I just looked at him and then had to turn back to the bar because I was holding up the line.”

“So, you didn’t finish the conversation?” Morgan clarifies.

“No, he just fucking smirked at me and said he’d see me later.” I take in a ragged breath. “This can’t be ... what the actual hell is even happening?” I practically whisper yell the last question as I drop my head into my hands. I’ve only been widowed for a few months; it’s way too soon for the thrill that ran through me when his breath ghosted over my earlobe. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready forhim.

“Oh, honey,” Petra says, putting her arm around me, “it’s okay to feel things. Like, if you have feelings for him, that’s not a bad thing.”

“I don’t even know what I’m feeling.” I lift my head and glance around to make sure no one is listening to us. “I mean, years ago I thought I had feelings for him, but he didn’t return them—”

“Are you sure?” Morgan interrupts. “Because you told us he said he ‘couldn’t do this now.’ Not that he didn’t have feelings. Maybe something happened in those twenty-four hours between your dinner and your work event?”

“I don’t know. I took him at his word, that he didn’t want anything to happen between us.”

“But that isn’t what he said,” Jackson reminds me. “He said he ‘couldn’tdo this,’ not that he didn’t want to. Did you ever ask him what he meant?”

“No. I met Josh, and he just kind of swept me off my feet. Made it easy to forget about Jameson, like I thought he forgot about me.”

“Did he, though?” Morgan asks again. “Because the way he told you that you were making a mistake marrying Josh sounds like he was all kinds of crazy jealous.”

“That—” I take in a deep breath. “—never actually crossed my mind. I thought that was just Jameson being an asshole, like usual.”

But now that they’re bringing it up, I’m having all kinds of second thoughts about what actually happened five years ago.

“I don’t know what he was like back then,” Jackson says, reaching over and squeezing my knee, “but he certainly doesn’t sound like he’s an asshole now.”

I roll my head back so it’s resting in the crook of Petra’s elbow. “Yeah, it doesn’t seem that way, does it?”

And then I have the eerie feeling of being watched. When I lift my head and look around, Jameson is one section over, and looking straight at me with the self-satisfied smirk of a man who knows he’s rattled me. He knows I’m talking to my friends about him, and he’s enjoying it.

* * *

“You’re allowed to cheer for your husband when he scores,” I tell Petra when she sits back down with a smug, yet sympathetic look.

There are definitely some hometown fans around us who were not too happy with her jumping up and down and yelling as Aleksandr reached his stick back while falling forward past the goal, sliding the puck between Colt’s legs, directly through the five-hole. Lucky shots like that don’t happen often. They also don’t happen without intense focus and skill, which Aleksandr is known for demonstrating on the ice.

The buzzer sounds to end the period, and the players retreat to their locker rooms. Around us, people are headed to the lounge or the bathroom, and I’m about to do the same now that I’ve finished my entire soda, but then I see AJ headed right toward us.

I introduce her to my friends, and half listen as she and Petra chat about hockey and the media and Petra’s show. But mostly my bladder is yelling at me that I’d better go get in line or it’s going to get serious, so I excuse myself and head to the bathrooms. By the time I make it through the line and am headed back out toward our seats, I can hear the music indicating that the players are taking the ice.

---