15. Aaron

15

AARON

When Colton starts trying to waltz with Reagan, and Jake decides the only natural after-dinner activity is to partake in some Home Alone -style sledding down my stairs, it’s clearly time to call it a night.

One by one, my guests depart into the cool, fall night. Jimmy departs dressed in full motorcycle leathers— since when does he have a motorcycle? —and when Stef and Reagan decide to hit up a bar downtown, a couple of the guys offer to go with them. I order an Uber for Colton, and then help Sofia bundle a hiccuping Jake into the passenger seat of his car.

It’s kind of cute, watching my oldest friend drunkenly slur, “I love you Sofia, you’re the besssshht” while giving his girlfriend these love-struck, goofy, goo-goo eyes. Sofia rolls her eyes good-naturedly while patting him down to find his car keys. Jake often had a girl on his arm over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him mushy-sappy like this. Guess love really can change a man.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay getting him home?” I ask Sofia. “I can drive you both. Help you get him inside.”

She just laughs, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry, Aaron. I can handle Jake.”

“I believe you,” I tell her with a grin. “You want me to hurry Olivia up?”

“No, she said she would find another way home.”

“Oh?”

Sof shrugs. “She was pretty insistent.”

“Okay, then.” I close the door behind her, then tap on the roof and salute her as she drives off.

I watch the retreating taillights of Jake’s Rover, wondering what Olivia’s plan could be. Most of the Cyclones and their families have taken off already.

My mind immediately (and unfortunately) spins to Dallas. After everyone finished their desserts, I couldn’t help but notice the way Dallas and Olivia got to chatting, him topping off her champagne glass as they laughed together cozily.

Maybe Dallas is taking Olivia home. The thought makes my chest clench.

It’s none of my business who Olivia Griswold dates, but surely she can see that Dallas is all wrong for her. Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy. He’s a great teammate and an even better friend, but he’s a playboy, through and through. And underneath the hard, prickly exterior she likes to project, Olivia is sweet. Sensitive. Cooper would chew her up and spit her out.

I remind myself that I don’t know anything about her dating life these days. I’m just doing what any good friend would do and looking out for my buddy’s little sister, but then again, maybe I shouldn’t underestimate her.

Maybe she’d be the one to break Dallas Cooper’s famously unbreakable heart.

As I step back into my house, I come face to face with the very man I was just thinking about. As my eyes travel over Dallas, I have to admit the guy has a certain roguishly handsome appeal Olivia could be drawn towards.

Dallas looks up from his phone. “Hey, man. I’m out. Thanks for a great evening.”

“Heading home?” I ask as casually as I possibly can, peering over his shoulder to see if Olivia’s following him out.

Dallas grabs his jacket off a hook next to the door. “Nah,” he says with a devilish grin. “Got myself a little Thanksgiving date.”

“You don’t say.” I’m aiming for jokey sarcasm, but I don’t get there. I hate how strained my voice sounds. I cough to cover it, but Dallas gives me a disconcerting look that tells me he sees right through me.

“Have a good one, Cap.” He winks, then walks out the door and shuts it behind him, leaving me standing alone in the hallway.

I stare at the front door for a moment before heading to the kitchen, which quite frankly, is an absolute disaster.

Plates are stacked on the island, empty wine, beer, and soda bottles litter the counters, and half-eaten dishes of food are piled haphazardly on the stovetop from where the guys tried—and failed—to help with the cleanup efforts. The dining area, which is open to the kitchen, has more dishes and bottles, alongside stained tablecloths and an array of pumpkin-slash-beer receptacles.

It’s a sight that would make any tired, weary man sigh. A sight that would normally have me turn around and go right to bed, committing to deal with the carnage in the morning before Betty, my housekeeper, arrives.

But I don’t do anything of the sort, because Olivia is standing in the middle of the mess. She’s at the kitchen sink, her back to me, humming to herself as she rinses glasses and stacks them in the dishwasher. An apron is knotted around her waist, and she’s pulled her copper hair into a sloppy topknot.

Man, she’s pretty.

“You’re still here,” I say. It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out like an exclamation. Which doesn’t make me sound unlike an overexcited seven-year-old on a playdate.

She half-turns towards me, pushing back a strand of red hair that’s stuck to her cheek. “You’re observant.”

“Why?” I figured Olivia would be out of here the second dinner was over. I certainly didn’t expect her to be standing in my kitchen after everyone else went home.

“I wanted to help. And you clearly need a lot of it right now.” She gestures to the mess surrounding us. “So, Marino, feel free to use me any which way you like while you have me.”

Her statement, innocent as it was surely meant to be, scorches my blood with such intensity that I have to pause for a moment, remind myself that this is Olivia I’m talking to.

So I naturally have to get a rise out of her. “Don’t tease me like that unless you mean it.”

I enjoy the way her face turns scarlet as she realizes what she implied. She scowls and flicks a dish towel at me. “You are such a perv.”

“And yet, you’re here with me instead of with Cooper,” I retort as I come to stand next to her at the sink, grabbing a washcloth to dry the pile of cookware she already washed. I can’t help but add, “You guys were chatty tonight.”

Olivia rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the way they flicker at the mention of Dallas’s name. I don’t like this flicker one bit. “I guess we were.”

“Talk about anything interesting?” I cannot stop myself. Part of me is itching to know.

Her eyes flicker towards me this time, but they’re narrowed. “We were talking about Ashley, the woman he’s gone to meet, since you’re so curious.”

“Jealous?” I prompt. Which is ridiculous, because if anyone here is jealous, it’s me.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she huffs as she turns back to the dishes.

“I’d actually like to know the real reason you’re still here,” I press, because I work hard, but apparently, the devil in me works harder. “Not that I’m complaining, but you being the last guest to leave tonight is unexpected, to say the least.”

Liv looks up, then exhales. “I’m here because I wanted to do something nice to, um, thank you.”

“Thank me for what?”

“You know.” She chews her lip. “For earlier. The porridge.”

My chest tightens once again at the memory of her almost putting that almond in her mouth.

“What happened, Liv?” I ask, my eyes searching hers. I remember, clear as day, how cross-contamination from almonds could give her a rash and hives, and that if she accidentally ate an almond itself, she would have to use her EpiPen.

She ducks her head. “I was distracted.”

“By?”

She lets out a long sigh. “Just… work stuff.”

She seems agitated, so I decide not to push her further. I have a feeling that there’s no way to make light of how she’s feeling, and this time, I don’t want to. Instead, I grab some plates and begin clearing scraps into the trash.

We work side by side in silence for a few minutes, me diligently scraping plates, her rinsing and stacking them in the dishwasher. It feels comfortable, easy, methodical.

“I’m off for Christmas,” she mumbles.

I peer at her. “Off where?”

“No.” Olivia shakes her head so forcefully that strands of her red hair come loose from her topknot. “Like I’m off work for Christmas.”

My lips pull up in a half-smirk as I reach up and grab a dirty glass balanced on a high shelf above her head that I noticed her eyeing. “Might just be me, but isn’t it a good thing to have the holidays off?”

“I figured I’d be gone somewhere, but I guess I’m stuck at home.” She turns her hazel eyes on me, then flicks them heavenward. “My roommates are having a three-day Christmas rave and I was very much hoping not to participate.”

I frown. “That’s an… interesting way to celebrate the holidays.”

“They’re interesting humans, to say the least.” She snorts.

“Well, interesting can be fun. Maybe you’ll love getting dressed up in neon spandex with the roomies.”

“Should probably go dust off my glow sticks,” she says with a smile, but I know her heart’s not in it.

“What about a trip somewhere?”

Liv shakes her head. “That would be ideal, but flying standby around the holidays is a nightmare. Traveling at Christmas is really expensive otherwise, and I’m trying to save up to move to another apartment. You know, because of said raving roommates.”

She makes a face, and I chuckle.

“And you can’t stay at Jake’s?” I ask. Her brother has a super nice condo in Midtown with gorgeous views of the city and a swimming pool on the roof. It also has at least a couple of spare bedrooms, last time I counted.

“Sofia’s family are coming from Monterrey.” Olivia lifts a shoulder, then begins scrubbing at a pot. “Don’t want to crash their first Christmas with her folks.”

“Makes sense.”

I know better than to ask Liv if she would go home to see her own folks for Christmas. Jake’s not close with his parents or either of their new partners, and far as I know, Olivia isn’t either.

I’ve been friends with Jake since the tenth grade when we started playing high school hockey together, and have known Olivia since she was fourteen. Throughout high school, I don’t recall their mom making it to a single one of our games, while their dad showed up at every one for the sole reason of screaming at Jake about everything he was doing wrong on the ice.

Olivia would usually come to our games, too, and I still remember how pale her face would get as she sat next to their father, flinching at his harsh words. Such a contrast to my own parents, who showed up to every game they could, proudly waving banners with my name.

The first thing I did when I signed my first contract with the Cyclones was help my dad retire from the family business and let my uncles continue running it. It was the least I could do given how much he and my mom always supported me.

“Hey, Aaron?” Liv’s voice yanks me from my thoughts as I’m putting away the last pot.

I look down at her, still hardly believing that she’s standing here in my kitchen. “Yeah?”

She pauses for a moment, fingers playing with the strings of the apron she’s currently folding. “How did you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“My allergy.”

I meet her eyes. “I remember everything about you, Olivia. Every last detail.”