Page 106 of Hard Hitter
She laughed. “Sorry. But with a body like that, a girl could get carried away.”
Ari blushed. She had indeed gotten carried away. Even now he was never far from her mind. She told herself it was because the team had so much at stake. It felt unnatural to be home in Brooklyn while they were doing battle in the south. She watched both games on television because she couldn’t stay away. They won one and they lost one.
Every time Patrick skated onto the screen, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. And when he fought a player on Nashville’s team she stopped breathing.
When it was over he skated away with a bloody cut on his face. After the game she twice picked up the phone to call him and then set it down again. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. They weren’t together, and she was still mad at his betrayal.
But, god, I miss him, she had to admit. The war between her mind and her heart raged on. It should be easier thanthis when he wasn’t even in town. She shouldn’t care so much.
Yet she did.
“So tell me more about Patrick,” her mother said at lunch the day before she left town again.
Ari set down her sandwich. She’d been thinking of him that very minute. Obviously she was so drenched in thoughts of him that she was now capable of beaming them across a restaurant table. “Patrick is complicated. He hasn’t had an easy time of it.”
“But is he a good man? Does he love you?” her mother asked. “Those are the important questions.”
She was fairly sure that the answers to those questions were probably yes and yes. But it was too much, too fast. “Vince loved me once,” she said. “And look how that turned out.”
Her mother waved a hand, as if waving the idea away. “You were both young and foolish. You’re wiser now. You can see past a man’s quick smile. What do you see when you look at him?”
Even that answer was complicated. Lust was near the top of the list, and she worried that it crowded out all the other saner judgments. “He’s sturdy,” she began. “But troubled.”
“We are all troubled sometimes,” her mother suggested.
Ari speared an olive in her salad. “You are awfully supportive of a man you met once for thirty seconds. I know you want grandchildren but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Her mother cackled. “You’re right, I don’t know Patrick. But I can tell he matters to you, and that’s why I like him. My girl has excellent judgment. He must be worth the trouble.”
“How can you say that? I mean—I appreciate the loyalty, Mom. But if my judgment were sound we wouldn’t be sitting here together right now trying to recover from my ex’s murder in my presence. This year my life has been like a television crime drama.”
“Sweetheart,” her mother said, and Ari heard an echo ofPatrick’s voice in that word. “You do have good judgment. You’ve also made good friends like Rebecca and Georgia. You are well loved by an entire hockey team. You work hard and you live within your means. Just because it took you a little too long to leave Vince doesn’t mean you shouldn’t trust yourself again. Be kind to my Ariana. She deserves kindness from you and everyone else.”
Ari’s eyes felt suddenly hot. “Be kind to yourself” was something she taught her yoga students, too. Why was it so hard to do?
“If he’s not the man for you, then you’ll make the right decision,” her mother said. “But if he is, don’t fear it. I have faith in you.”
“Thank you, Mom,” she choked out.
“You’re welcome. Now eat your salad because I see real Brooklyn cheesecake in that dessert case and I want some.”
***
After Ari put her mother and Uncle Angelo in a cab to LaGuardia, she went to the practice facility for the first time in three days. She sat through a meeting with Henry and the trainers, where they went over the status of player strains and injuries.
“I’m putting O’Doul back on your schedule tomorrow morning,” Henry told her. “He’s doing pretty well but we have to keep that hip supple.”
“Of course,” she said as her heart tripped over itself. “Who else?” she asked with feigned nonchalance.
When the meeting was over, she was free to go home. Tonight the players would enjoy a night off, though she glimpsed many of them in a conference room with Coach Worthington. They were watching tape of tomorrow night’s opponent.
Ariana sped by the conference room window.Do not look for him, she ordered herself.You’ll see him tomorrow.
She’d almost made it to the door at the end of the hallway when a roughened voice stopped her. “Ari? Can I talk to you for a second?”
The sound of her name on his lips was like a sip of cool water after a hot yoga class. She hadn’t even known how badly she’d wanted it. She stopped walking and slowly turned around.
He was still in his suit pants and a nice dress shirt, but his tie was askew. He leaned against the conference room doorjamb, looking like some kind of sex-tousled power broker. “Can we talk?” he repeated.
