Page 89 of Beauty
Noah takes a lap around the rink. I can practically feel him searching for me as he glides easily, so I take a step back from the glass. After a moment, he pauses and looks into the screen, and a heartbeat later, his face pops up on the Jumbotron. Like this, it feels like he’s looking directly at me, those familiar blue eyes so knowing. Focus intent on the camera, he taps his heart.
In response, mine goes into overdrive. “What’s he doing?”
Lennox brings her hands to her chest and hums. “Isn’t it sweet? It’s a message to Ollie. He does it after every goal.”
My heart both skips and settles as I study his flushed face. Shit. Why does that have to be so cute?
I should have known it was about Ollie. The sense that he was staring right at me was all in my head. Hell, he was probably scanning the arena for a camera so he could send his son a message, not to locate me and the stupid jersey he’s obsessed with revealing.
When the enlarged image of him disappears, I step up closer to Lennox again and lean against the glass, watching him skate to the bench. “Why is he going over there?”
“Line change,” Lennox explains, as if that should make sense.
She probably thinks I know the rules the way she does. I did spend hours sitting beside her while Aiden played in high school, after all. I just wasn’t paying attention.
I reach for my phone so I can scan the list of questions I saved in my Notes app. I might as well go through some of them with Lennox while it’s just the two of us.
“Ohfuck,” she mutters, startling me.
Heart in my throat, I peer down at the rink.
Noah’s stick is on the ground and his gloves are off. And before I can make sense of why, he pulls back and punches one of Minnesota’s players.
Like he didn’t see it coming, the guy’s head snaps back. His response is slow, giving Noah time to clutch the front of his jersey and hit him again.
I gasp. “Holy crap. What did that guy do?”
Neither of us takes our eyes off the chaotic scene in front of us.
“I have no idea,” Lennox murmurs, bringing her fingers to her mouth. “Noah’s never like that.”
My stomach lodges itself in my throat as players from both teams converge, every one of them throwing fists. Even Brooks,the most even-keeled of my brothers, has skated toward the melee, leaving the goalie box.
Heart racing, I scan the mass of bodies for Noah. When he’s finally pulled out of it and sent to the penalty box—or the sin bin, according to Lennox—the need to go to him flares inside me, burning bright.
I need to see that he’s all right.
When the game is over, the urge is just as strong. But rather than give in, I pack up and force myself to head home.
Noah is not mine to check on. Hecan’tbe.
THIRTY
NOAH
“What the fuckhappened out there tonight?” Gavin all but shouts. “I know tensions are always high when your opponents are former teammates”—he eyes me, then War—“but save the aggression for the damn game.” With his hands on his hips, he tips his head back and blows out a breath. “We’re lucky those penalties didn’t cost us the win.” He straightens, this time zeroing in on me. “Don’t put us in that position again.”
I nod, my jaw locked tight. I’m barely holding it together right now. Adrenaline still courses through my veins, and the comments that asshole made about Sienna play on repeat in my mind.
My anger is only compounded by her disappearance. Where the fuck did she go after the second period?
And who the fuck’s jersey is she wearing?
My preoccupation with that alone makes the blood rush in my ears.
The second Gavin stalks out of the locker room, heading to the press room, I storm for my locker.
“Harrison, you’re on tonight,” Andi calls after me. She’s filling in for Sara while she’s on maternity leave. She’s niceenough, and typically, my manners win out, even when I’m pissed, but there’s no goddamn way I can talk to the press right now.
