Page 95 of No Rhyme or Roughing
I loved the way she moaned under me, the way her soft clothes peeled from her body like a second skin.
I loved her.
And I showed her in every way possible.
We fell asleep naked, her back pressed against me, her body fitting perfectly into mine. My arms held her in place, keeping her close.
We fell asleep, content.
But in the morning, she was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
SYDNEY
The SAP Center.
How many times as a kid had I walked through these doors, across the concourse, and down into a seat to watch the Sharks play?
I’d had just over an hour in the car to think as I drove to San Jose, and what I’d realized was that I wanted to stay. This area was where I grew up. Mixed in with the bad memories were plenty of good ones.
I just had to figure out if Ryder was part of the reason I wanted to stay.
This morning, when I woke up, I’d called the number of my contact with the Sharks—the person trying to recruit me. She’d agreed to fitme in right away for a discussion. Not an interview. I wasn’t begging for a job. I could head to L.A. and have my pick of opportunities.
No, I needed to know why they wantedmeand what they were looking for.
I looked up at the larger-than-life images of their current players. It had been years since I watched a Sharks game; I didn’t even know who was on the team anymore. But maybe I would soon.
There was a certain smell to an NHL arena, a distinct sound. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it brought back memories. Before Dad left, he used to take the four of us to games whenever he could. I remembered being happy here, oblivious to what was coming. Stas and Kristen teasing Teddy about his obsession with a fourth liner, my sisters walking me to get snacks or to the bathroom. They never took their eyes off me.
Now, they couldn’t even look at me.
I hadn’t realized I’d wandered toward a doorway opening up to the view of the ice. A Zamboni circled back and forth, its steady motion calming.
I was the only Valentine kid with zero hockey talent, the one who chose a sport so far removed from ice that it might as well have been played in Bermuda. And yet, over the last month, I’d found a way to combine the two worlds.
“Sydney.”
I closed my eyes, wishing the voice would go away. I knew that voice. It lived in my memories.
“Sydney, is that you?”
Of course, she wouldn’t recognize me. Seeing someone once in ten years wouldn’t exactly cement their image.
I turned slowly. “Hi, Stas.”
Her face brightened, her large green eyes fixing on me. Her hair was the same shade as mine—blond, medium-length, cut in a boring style. Her thick, dark eyebrows mirrored my own.
But that was where the similarities ended.
“I knew it was you as soon as you walked through the door!” she exclaimed, rushing forward to hug me. I didn’t return it.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” she said.
“Believe it,” I replied, pushing her away. “What are you doing here?”
“Amanda didn’t mention me when she contacted you?”
