Kelly Jamieson - Breakaway

“That’s okay.” She smiled at him. He reached across and took hold of her chin with his fingers, then leaned over and brushed a kiss across her mouth. A soft, melt-your-insides kind of kiss. She blinked at him.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. About the tickets. Check with Delise.”

She stared at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Her heart missed a beat, then pitter-pattered embarrassingly. A thrill skittered through her. “Okay. Thanks.”

Remi and Delise found their seats, row twelve right behind the Wolves bench in the Metro Center, home of the Chicago Wolves. “Great seats,” Delise remarked.

“Yeah.” They watched the players skating circles on the ice in the warm-up, shooting randomly at their respective goalies. Music blasted energetically from the speakers and the chilled air in the center smelled of popcorn, sweat and artificial ice. A puck bounced off the boards with a bang that made them jump.

“So…what’s with you and this hockey player?”

“Nothing.”

Delise snorted and tossed her long, auburn curls. “Riiiight. And that’s why he gave you free tickets to the game.”

“We’re just having fun.”

“Mmm. It looked like you were having fun that night. Did I tell you how cute you were in his shirt?”

“Oh, god.” Remi closed her eyes momentarily. “I’m sure the cops appreciated it too.”

“They were having a good laugh about it, I think.”

“Well,it turns out Jason is involved in the Stars for Reading Program at my school this year.”

“You’re kidding.” Delise swiveled her head to look at Remi. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Remi licked her lips. “Yeah, well. I didn’t know it until he showed up at the kickoff rally. He was a last-minute replacement. He acted kind of weird. Sort of brushed me off. Which was okay, because even though he said he’d call, I didn’t expect him to. It was just one night.”

Delise shot her a who-are-you-kidding look.

“But then last week after class he asked me out for dinner.”

“I see.”

Remi frowned at the disapproving tone in Delise’s voice. “I thought you wanted me to have fun.”

“He’s an NHL hockey player.”

“Yeah. So?” Like she didn’t know that and hadn’t already been over that a million times in her own head.

“Professional athletes are…um…trouble.”

Remi scanned the players in white jerseys, the home team Wolves, with their red, brown and black logos, looking for number twenty-five. She couldn’t find him. She frowned. “What do you mean by trouble?”

“They cheat on their wives.” Delise dipped her hand into the bucket of popcorn Remi held on her lap.

“I’m not going to marry him,” Remi said, still looking for Jason. Delise snorted. “He’s probably just being nice to me, giving me tickets, because I’m a teacher at the school he’s volunteering with.” And Remi knew she should just shut up, because the more she went on about how it was nothing, the lamer she sounded. She pressed her lips together and tightened her fingers on the bucket.

A loud horn blew to signal the end of the warm-up and the players slowly started leaving the ice. Remi focused on each player as he skated up to the boards, stopped sharply, then jumped lightly off the ice to walk to the dressing room.

There he was! Number twenty-five. Hard to tell, with all the equipment and the helmet. He was definitely one of the bigger players. When he arrived at the boards, he lifted his head and looked directly at her. He must know where their seats were. She smiled and gave a little wave and he too lifted a big, gloved hand before disappearing.

She shivered and not just from the cold. He’d looked for her. She hadn’t seen him earlier, of course, he’d left the tickets for her at the box office. She wouldn’t see him after, either, unless she wanted to hang around for an hour after the game. She and Delise would likely go have something to eat after.

“I’ve been reading about hockey on the internet,” she told Delise. “So hopefully I know what’s going on.”

“I think it’s pretty simple. They score a goal by shooting the puck into the other team’s net.”

“Well, duh. I got that much.”

“There’s no half time.”

Remi grinned. “No. Three periods. Two intermissions.” She picked up her Diet Coke and sipped it. “I guess we’ll figure it out.”

She wasn’t prepared for how fast the players moved, the brutal hits that shuddered the glass above the boards, and the way the puck sometimes missed the net in a blistering shot that sent it soaring over the boards.

“Jesus,” Delise muttered. “You could get hurt at one of these games.”

Remi’d flinched once too, when two players fought over the puck and sent it flying in their direction.

Jason was one of the players who did the face-off thing, trying to get the puck, bending low to the ice, legs wide apart. He seemed to win most of the face-offs, from what she could tell. But the score wasn’t reflecting that. The visiting team, the Miami Fins, scored one goal and then another.

Remi and Delise exchanged disappointed glances at the score. She wanted Jason to win. Maybe he’d score a goal. According to the team’s website, he was one of their top scorers.

And then he got the puck and broke away from the rest of the players, racing toward the Fins’ net all on his own, carrying the puck. The crowd roared and Remi’s heart jumped. He drew back his stick and took the shot—oooh, a fake! He did a quick little maneuver and shot to the opposite side of the net, but no! The goalie stretched out a gloved hand and made what seemed to be an impossible save.

The crowd all groaned and Remi slumped back in her seat. “Damn!”

Jason’s teammates all skated in after him and they shot the puck back and forth around the net, across the ice, around the net again. “What are they doing?” Delise muttered. “They need to shoot at the net to get a goal.”

“I think they’re trying to set something up.”

Remi caught the amused glances of a couple sitting in front of them and realized how clueless she and Delise must sound. She bit her lip. Hopefully those people didn’t know she was there as Jason’s guest. She wouldn’t want to embarrass him.

And then a Fin got the puck and Jason took off after him and, to Remi’s horror, he smashed the guy into the boards with a thundering crash. The crowd cheered in delight, but Remi put her hands to her mouth. Dear god, he was going to kill the other guy. Or himself. Or both of them.

But they both skated away, although Jason had to adjust his helmet.

Every muscle in her body was tense. Sheesh. She had to relax.

The pace was sizzling, the action nonstop, the tension high. For the rest of the first period, it seemed the teams were skating from one end of the rink to the other and back again. These guys had to be in great shape, although as she watched it seemed to Remi that sometimes they only played for a minute at a time, constantly hopping off the ice onto the bench and being replaced by players barreling over the boards and racing into the game.

When the buzzer sounded to end the first period, the Wolves were still down two to zero.

Remi and Delise stood to go out onto the concourse area and stretch their legs.

“Holy smokes,” Remi said. “I don’t know about the players, but I’m exhausted.”

Delise shook her head. “You were playing that whole game with Jason.”

Remi frowned. She had been caught up in it. It was exciting—but scary. Thrilling—but stressful.

“Oh my god.” Remi clutched Delise’s arm.

“What?”

“Look over there. It’s Brianne Haskett.”

“Who? Oh, yeah. I see her. Rumor has it she’s going to model for Victoria’s Secret.”

Remi’s stomach plunged to her toes. “Really? It figures.”

“Why?” Delise looked at her, eyebrows lifted.

“She’s Jason’s ex-girlfriend.”

Delise’s eyebrows flew higher. “Wow.”

“I know. Don’t say it. What the hell’s he doing with me, right? I told you, he’s just being nice to me.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. Geez Remi, give yourself some credit. You’re gorgeous too.”

Remi tipped her head to one side and smiled at her friend. “I love you. I wonder what she’s doing here.”

Delise gave a crooked smile. “Cheering on her ex? Wonder if she still has feelings for him.”

“He dumped her. Could be.” She watched Brianne talk to a group of other women, all of them tall, gorgeous, exquisitely groomed and expensively dressed. She sighed. “Let’s go back in.”

The drama continued to the third period, when the Wolves scored a goal, making it two-one, then they blew one chance after another to tie it up. Remi sat on the edge of her seat the entire period, cheering the team on, earning amused glances from Delise.

And then, along the boards in the corner near the Fins’ net, Jason was scuffling for the puck with another player. First he got it, then the other player stole it, then Jason, and he whirled around to skate around the net and try to get the puck in. So close! The crowd screamed, Remi clutched her hands together—and another Fin body checked Jason, knocking him to the ice. Hard.

Another Fin took the puck and raced out of their end with it, leaving Jason lying on the ice, still.

“Oh dear god.” Remi pressed her hands to her mouth, staring at Jason’s motionless body. Then he moved and hunched up onto his hands and knees and Remi’s stomach lurched when she saw the blood all over the ice beneath him.

The whistle blew and play stopped while the Wolves all came back to surround Jason. A man in khaki pants, T-shirt and runners came out onto the ice, slipping and sliding his way over to Jason, who by that time was on his feet and skating slowly toward the bench, holding his face.