Remi couldn’t breathe, her heart thudded so hard in her chest. The arena faded into a blur and a distant buzz of sound as she watched Jason leave, blood pouring from his face. Another player brought his stick and his helmet, which had been knocked off him.

She looked wide-eyed at Delise. “Oh god. I hope he’s okay.”

A small crease marked between Delise’s brows and she put a hand on Remi’s arm and squeezed. “He was walking and talking. He’ll be fine. It’s not like they carried him out on a stretcher.”

“Oh god.” He was gone now and she had no idea what had happened to him or if he was okay.

The rest of the game was a blur. The Wolves didn’t manage to score another goal, ending the game with a loss, but the exciting fun had gone for Remi. When the buzzer ended the game, she and Delise made their way out of the arena, buffeted by the large Wolves’ crowd.

“Okay,” Delise said. “Where should we go for dinner?”

“Oh.” Remi took a breath of the crisp late afternoon air, standing on Grand Avenue. “I don’t care.”

Delise looked at her sideways and one corner of her mouth deepened. “You okay?”

“Of course! Why?”

“You seem kind of distracted.”

“I’m fine. Just wondering how Jason is.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What does that mean?”

“I thought there was nothing between you.”

“There isn’t.”

“You seem awfully upset about him being hurt. Which is just one more reason why dating a hockey player is a bad idea.”

Remi tightened her lips. She knew it was a bad idea. Delise didn’t have to keep telling her that.

Delise sighed. “Why don’t you just call him?”

“I uh…don’t know his number.”

“Oh. You better fix that.”

“If he wanted me to have it, he’d have given it to me.” They started walking and Remi tucked her big turquoise scarf up higher under her chin against the late afternoon breeze off Lake Michigan. “He has my number.”

“If he called your cell, you should have his number.”

“Hey, you’re right.” Remi pulled her cell phone out and flipped it open, thumbing her way through incoming calls. There it was. She bit her lip. Should she call him?

“Let’s go here,” Delise said, stopping in front of a small Thai restaurant.

They went in and were seated at a small table near the front. They draped their jackets over the back of their chairs and Remi set her cell phone on the table and eyed it between studying the menu.

“Call him.”

“I have to give him time to get cleaned up,” Remi said. “I’ll call him later. After dinner.”

Her stomach tight, shoulders tense, she managed to eat half her pad Thai, but she barely tasted it. Focusing on conversation with Delise took her mind off Jason for a while, until they emerged from the restaurant onto the dark street and she remembered with a jolt all the blood and Jason being helped off the ice.

Delise drove her home. “I’m sure he’s fine,” she said. “Athletes are tough.”

Remi made a face and nodded as she got out of the car.

Jasmine sat in the living room watching television, wearing cotton pajamas, her long, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“Hey,” she said. “How was the game?”

“The Wolves lost,” Remi said absently, unwinding her scarf from around her neck. She glanced at Jasmine. Damn. Her puffy eyes and pink nose told her she’d been crying again. “Did you talk to Ethan?”

“Yes.” Jasmine sniffled. “He wants me to come back.”

“Oh.” Remi dropped into an armchair, slip-covered in creamy canvas to match the sofa even though they were ancient and from a different set. “And what did you say?”

“I told him I…I’d think about it.” She swiped the back of her hand across her nose. “I love him so much, Remi. I want to go back and try again.”

Remi held in her sigh. “Why do you keep going back to him, Jasmine?”

“Because I love him! He swears he wasn’t cheating on me.”

“And you believe him?”

“Yes.”

Remi leaned her head back and looked at the ceiling. “Well, then if you go back, you’ll trust him?”

Jasmine bit her lip and tears sparkled in the lamplight. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you should think about it before you decide to go back.”

“I am!”

Somehow Remi had the feeling that this conversation was not going to go well no matter what she said. She wished Jasmine would see that her relationship with Ethan wasn’t healthy, but she seemed blind to it and only got defensive if anyone tried to point that out to her.

The doorbell rang, interrupting her gloomy thoughts. She frowned.

Jasmine sat up straight and put her feet on the floor. “That must be Ethan.”

Remi rose and looked at her. “Do you want to see him?”

“Yes. No.” Jasmine scrubbed at her cheeks and smoothed her ponytail as Remi went to the door. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Jason walked up to the house, the front window glowing golden through the drawn curtains. In the quiet dark neighborhood, it seemed like a beacon—inviting, homey, welcoming.

He stood on the porch beneath the light and paused.

What was he doing here?

After the game, the guys were going out and had invited him along. For some reason, going somewhere like Rouge or another hot club with groupies and puck bunnies appealed to him as much as a puck in the eye.

The game had sucked. He’d played like crap, couldn’t get anything going and only their goaltender had saved them from getting their asses really kicked.

The face of one person kept floating into his head—Remi. He wanted to see her. He wanted to tell her he could play better than that. He wanted to know what she’d thought of the game. So here he was, like an idiot, standing on her doorstep afraid to ring the bell.

He pushed the doorbell.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his long coat, still dressed in suit and tie. He hadn’t gone home; after the coach had reamed their asses for how they’d played, he’d gotten in his Jeep and driven straight here.

He heard the deadbolt click and the door slowly opened.

He smiled at Remi standing there, but her eyes went immediately to his left temple. Oh yeah. He lifted a hand to touch the butterfly tape.

“Hi,” he said.

“You’re not Ethan.”

“Uh…no. No, I’m not.” Ethan? Who the hell was Ethan? “Did I come at a bad time?” He was ready to turn and leave.

“Ethan…” A young girl with puffy red eyes and a pink nose appeared in the French doors to the living room. “Oh.” Her face fell.

Jason looked from Remi to the young girl behind her, looking so much like Remi, but obviously distressed about something. “Hi,” he said. “You must be Jasmine.”

She frowned. “Yes. Who are you?”

He grinned and stepped forward into the foyer, hand outstretched. “Jase Heller. Nice to meet you.”

She shook his hand, sending a confused glance toward her sister.

“Sorry, Jasmine, it’s not Ethan,” Remi said softly. She closed the door.

“I see that.” Her eyes filled with tears and Jason looked at Remi. She gave him a strained smile.

“Come in,” Remi invited, leading the way into the living room. She picked up the remote and turned off the television.

“I was watching that,” Jasmine protested.

“No, you weren’t,” Remi said. “You were crying about Ethan. Maybe you could uh…go to bed?”

Jasmine frowned, looked back and forth between the two of them, then turned with a dramatic sigh and disappeared down the hall.

“She’s still here?”

“Yes.” She blew out a breath. “But it sounds like she’s moving back in with Ethan.” She shook her head.

Should he even take his coat off? “I guess I did come at a bad time.”

“Oh, no! It’s fine. I just got home, actually. Delise and I went out for dinner after the game.”

“How did you enjoy it?”

She stared at him wordlessly.

“Well?”

“It was awful!” she burst out.

“Yeah, we played like crap.”

“No, I mean…my god, Jason, that is a brutal sport! Look at you!” She bit her lip and eyed his forehead again.

Disappointment filtered down through his body. Here he’d been thinking she’d be all impressed. Instead, she was horrified. Great.

She was a teacher, he reminded himself. He’d gotten past that fact enough to ask her out for dinner the other night after getting to know her and how she treated the kids in her class, but still…she was intelligent, educated. She probably thought hockey was a bunch of goons beating each other up, chasing a stupid little puck around the ice. It was true—he played a game for a living. How could he ever hope to impress her with that?

“I’m fine. It’s just a little cut.”

“You were bleeding.”

“Yup. That happens when I get cut.” He grinned again, holding his arms out at his sides. “I’m tough. But if you want to kiss it and make it better, that would probably help.”

She didn’t move. “I was going to call you,” she said, voice a bit choppy. “To see if you were okay.”

“Well, then it’s good I came over to show you I’m fine.” He still stood there in his coat. “But I can go…”

She rubbed her forehead, her distress diminishing as she took in that he was okay. “No. It’s fine. Here. Let me take your coat.”

He smiled as he shrugged out of it, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder from the hard check he’d taken from Sanders in the third. Probably not good if she knew about that additional minor injury. She disappeared to hang his coat up, then came back, rubbing her palms over her jeans. “Would you like a drink? Beer?”

“Um. Sure, a beer would be nice.” He followed her to the kitchen. “Some of the guys were going out after, but I…didn’t feel like it.”