Page 35 of Outlaw Heartstrings
“Er, you’re welcome, little man.” Easton meets my eyes briefly, making my stomach do a weird little flip. Then he quickly refocuses on Jagger, like he can’t stand to look at me. “You can call me Easton though.”
“Thanks, Easton!” the child sings as he runs back to examine his gifts again.
“Hey, do you want to go try out your new gear at the ice rink across the park?” Easton asks.
There’s a small arena on the far side of the park, inside a barn-like building. Since half of the little boys around town are convinced that they’re going to be the next Easton Raines, the powers that be decided a while back to keep the local skating rink open year-round. They’ve set up a schedule to use the ice for the youth hockey leagues and special training sessions, as well as figure skating for the general public.
The smile slips off of Jagger’s face at the mention of theice rink. “Oh, um. I’m not allowed to go to the rink,”he says in a small voice.
Easton looks at me, frowning. “Why not?”
“The big kids don’t let me on the ice because they say it’s just for real hockey players. Mimi didn’t have the money to sign me up for the hockey team, so they say I’m not allowed.”
My heart pinches as the little boy recounts his experience.
Meanwhile, a look of utter indignation comes over Easton’s face.
I step forward, self-consciously tucking my hair behind my ear and adjusting the frame of my glasses. “I’m sorry. It’s true. I, uh, couldn’t afford to sign him up for hockey this past season, but I’m saving up for the next time sign-ups open. I’m just trying as hard as I can to stretch the resources we have.” I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling like I’m failing.
Easton’s eyes move between Jagger and me. His posture relaxes. “I have an old friend at the rink who might be able to make an exception for us today.” He smiles at the little boy. “What do ya say?”
Jagger smiles back in a way that tells me he’s trying not to get his hopes up. I don’t blame the kid—he’s been disappointed so many times. “Yeah…I guess.”
Easton nods and gathers up all the hockey gear.
I press my lips together, feeling skeptical after all the times I’ve begged for them to let Jagger on the ice. But I keep my mouth shut and follow along as Jagger and Easton march across the park to the rink.
I hang back, trailing behind the father-son duo and feeling pathetic for putting on all this extra makeup to look cute for Easton today.The man has barely even spared me aglance this whole time. All his attention has been on his son, as it should be.
Seriously, what was I thinking? I doubt he even noticed the extra layer of mascara. It’s all pointless, because even if he weren’t my sister’s baby daddy, I’m obviously not Easton’s type anyway.
Unfortunately, I’ve never met a hot guy with a fetish for the boring girl who only leaves the house to go to the library, the grocery store and to her three dead-end jobs.
Nope. I’m pretty sure those checkboxes don’t exist on any of the popular dating apps.
But that’s okay. I decided years ago that Jagger’s the only guy for me. My priority is raising him to be a good person with a good heart.
Yet despite all of my best intentions, I have to admit that, the spicy scent of Easton’s subtle cologne makes my stomach tight, and I don’t particularly like this warm, tingly sensation that creeps across my skin every time he stands too close to me. There’s just something about the handsome towering man that makes me feel out of sorts.
Jagger runs ahead and bursts into the building first. When Easton and I make it inside, we see that the bitter, old coach is about to tell the poor kid that he’s not allowed inside. But when Mr. Michelin looks up and spots Easton, his entire expression changes.
“Easton? Easton Raines?” The grumpy coach hops up with more energy than I’ve seen out of him in years. He meets us halfway across the lobby and ecstatically wraps Easton in a hug.
Jagger and I watch quietly as the two men catch up. After a while, Easton strolls over, draping an arm around my nephew’s shoulder. “Do you mind if I take a few minutes on the ice with my little friend here? He wants to show me hiskiller moves.” He winks and Jagger’s worried little eyeballs bounce over to the coach for his response.
Conversation pauses as the old man glares in my direction.
What I didn’t mention to Easton is, management at the rink seem to be holding a grudge against Jagger. Mr. Michelin became the coach after the whole drama with my dad. For some reason, the man seems to blame this whole scandal on my mom and me, like we didn’t get blindsided by my father’s shenanigans, too. But that’s the price my family is still paying for Dad’s sins.
Cutting his eyes at me, Mr. Michelin turns his attention back to Easton. “Sure, you can use the ice.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes at the miserable old man. I’m just grateful that my nephew will get the chance to play for once.
Easton helps an excited Jagger get his new gear on. Then Jagger hits the ice, as I stand behind the window to watch. There’s a small group of kids already playing, and when they realize who Easton is, they quickly approach where he’s standing.
“Easton Raines?”
“Look, it’s Easton Raines!”
