Page 4 of Christmas on Ice
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is your mom okay?”
He shifted in the seat and stared out the windshield. “Yeah, for now. This is the second time she’s had it, so she’s more run-down, and the side effects are a lot worse than the first time. Some days she’s okay. Some days, she’s not. My younger sister Brooklyn works from home, so she’s there with her all day while Dad’s at work. But she’s getting married in December, so I’m not sure what we’ll do then.”
“That’s really tough, Trask. It must be hard for you to be so far away. I miss my family like crazy. I wish I could afford to go back to visit more.”
“It’s tough, but my new contract will help a bit. And once I get to the NHL…” He shook his head like he was trying to reset his mind, then flashed another grin. “It wasn’t my intention to vent about my family problems. You’re just so easy to talk to.”
I smiled shyly. “It’s okay. I asked, remember?”
His grin widened. “You did. So how about you?”
“Well…” It was easy to talk to him, too. But how much to tell him? Sutton and I had married way too young, or at least under a lot of pressure. We wanted to be together but weren’t ready to make a lifetime commitment. Looking back, it had been doomed before it began. “It’s just me and Ryleigh right now, till I finish my doctorate. Her dad and I are divorced after a two-year separation. Our families are in Summerville, and I plan to move back there when I finish my degree.”
He nodded. “It’s a hard place to leave, isn’t it?”
“It wasn’t then. But now, with Ryleigh … I miss my family.”
“Do they visit?”
“Not really. They run businesses and can’t ever manage to get time off. They’re busiest on the weekends.” My sisters owned an event-planning business and hosted weddings and parties at our farm. It had been a long time since anyone in my immediate family had been able to visit us.
“That’s too bad.” Trask’s sympathetic expression was warm, but I didn’t want him feeling bad for me.
“Do you think it’s been long enough?” I asked, gesturing to my car.
“Yeah. Let me clear it off for you.” He put his hat and gloves back on and pulled up a brush from the other side of his seat.
“I can help.” I opened the door and sucked in a breath at the icy blast. I slid down from the cab and pushed against the wind to get to my car. My long hair whipped in my eyes, blinding me. Opening the door, I felt along the side of the seat to get my own snowbrush before slamming it closed again.
Trask was brushing the snow from the passenger side, so I worked along my side and brushed the snow off the roof first and worked my way down the windows and over to the trunk. We finished at the same time, and while he disconnected the cables, I got in the car, thankful to be back in the warmth.
I cracked open the window, grateful it had unfrozen while the car ran. Amazing what a little heat could do. “Thank you!”
He held up a hand, and I waited for him to appear at my window. “Can I follow you home? My mama would beat me if I didn’t make sure you got there okay.”
“Sure!” I knew better than to argue with centuries of Southern chivalry. Besides, I liked it. It felt nice to be looked out for. My grandfather had set a standard that Sutton had never lived up to. Somehow I had a feeling Trask came by it naturally, and thinking about it made me feel all swoony inside.
“Don’t lose the heat!”No danger of that. Ha!He shut the door, and I instantly felt the loss of connection.
“Thanks again!” I waved to him and closed my window, watching him walk back to his truck with a stupid grin on my face.
I didn’t have time to be crushing on anyone, but I liked him.
A lot.
And that was a problem.
3
Trask
Icouldn’t believe it. We’d finally won a game.
You’d think we’d won a championship or something by the way the fans reacted. I couldn’t blame them. My defensive partner, Brendan Trotter, and I had gotten it together and hadn’t let many shots get near the goal on our shifts. The other defensive lines weren’t as effective, but our forwards had been on fire. We’d won 5-3, and I’d been named one of the three stars of the game.
The wives and girlfriends—Wags as they were known in hockey but collectively called the Pack by our team—had arranged a celebratory late lunch/after-party at Brewski’s. We were usually starving after a Sunday afternoon game, but when I arrived at the restaurant, food was the last thing on my mind.
Out of habit, I scanned the interior, looking for Kami. I caught her eye as she exited the function room and waved. She smiled back and hustled to the bar. Behind the bar, Brenna and her brother Drew were filling pitchers with beer and sangria.
