Chapter Four

We were so close. The fire-breathing acrobat also known as Ruby the Dragon had been in our midst mere moments before we made our way to the ice for practice. I caught the slightest glimpse of her tall, slender body as she hurried out the exit opposite the tunnel entry. She sure looked beautiful walking away, but I would have loved to get a peek at that face just to hush up Evan and get this dare over with. If she accidentally reveals her identity then I can’t be held responsible for it, right?

Between practice and Freya showering the new mascot with praise—primarily because she taught her how to breathe fire—I couldn’t slip out early to see if she was still in the building. I pressed Freya for information, but the woman is like a safe with secrets.

And now I’m paying for my annoying line of questioning.

“No, Aiden. To the left. You have to shimmy like you mean it,” Freya says, a camera in one hand and a pencil in the other. I’m a little afraid she’ll poke me with it if I screw up this dance again.

“I’m on skates, love. I can’t shimmy.” Even so, I do my best to appease her and shake to my left with my arms in a ballerina pose. A pirou-something or other. All I need now is one of Archer’s daughter’s pink tutus.

“Beautiful. Now, turn around and smile for the cover image.” Freya snaps a few images before releasing me to prepare for the game.

“I think that was more torture than deserved for trying to pry information out of you,” I say, wiping my brow. Pretend ballet is harder work than anticipated, especially on skates.

“Hey, this is not my fault. You know we’ve been doing a player spotlight each week, and this is your week, hotshot.”

“So, about the mascot,” I begin.

“Aiden,” she warns. “You know I can’t tell you anything. I would if I could, but I just can’t.”

Of course not. I can’t ask her to risk her job for me, not over a ridiculous dare. But the guys are gonna rib me black and blue if I don’t figure it out.

“Doyle, let’s go!” Coach leans out the door and motions for me to get with the program. The other guys are in the pre-game meeting, so I have an excuse to put the rest of this social media spotlight business on hold.

“Sorry, love. Duty calls.” Freya rolls her eyes but shoos me away.

It isn’t long before we’re on the ice, playing like our lives depend on it. Our careers certainly do this close to winning the Patton Cup. One false move, one misstep and we can lose everything we’ve worked so hard for this season.

For a moment, I think about Greer and what she went through with losing her career. It took several months for her to process everything, but it helped that her teammates pulled her through it. The assistant coach position didn’t hurt either, which has me wondering if it’s time for me to hang up my skates.

The thought is wiped from my mind when my face is slammed into the glass. That’s what I get for letting my mind wander while on the ice. I ought to know better, but lately my brain doesn’t seem to want to keep up with the rest of me. Or maybe it’s the other way around. It sure feels like my body is old after I peel myself from the wall and catch a glimpse of Coach Pratt with his arms crossed, scowling at me.

“Focus, Doyle,” Sullivan says, giving me the same scornful glance.

I shake my head clear and swap out with Ben Cantrell, giving me a second to catch my breath. Lincoln Gray scoots down the bench to give me my favorite spot and hands me a bottle of water.

“You okay?” he asks. “It’s not like you to get distracted.”

“Fine, mate.” I squeeze the water into my mouth so I don’t have to say anything else.

“We finally got Calloway focused and now you’re off.” He says the comment under his breath, almost as if he’s afraid to confront me over my crummy game play tonight. I might be annoyed if he weren’t right. Something is off, and it all started with the new mascot and her mysterious ways.

Somehow, I manage to pull myself through the first period but I’ll need to get it together for the second and third. Once the buzzer sounds, we trudge toward the locker room, down a goal, with spirits almost crushed. Calloway tosses his stick onto the bench and flops beside it, frustrated he let such an easy goal past him.

Turner sits beside him, silent since it was his fault Evan couldn’t see it coming. Evan scowls at him but shakes it off and focuses on Coach’s lecture. Every few minutes, the echo of the crowd distracts us. Coach scolds us, but it does little good.

The crowd erupts again, distracting even Archer. Ol’ Captain Sullivan blushes and drags his attention back to the meeting before Coach gets frustrated. Problem is, we’re all too curious for our own good. With all that equipment sprawled over the ice yesterday, we can’t help but wonder what this show looks like. And there’s fire, every man’s Achilles heel. I need to see this woman breathe fire, if only to make myself believe it can really happen.

Coach Pratt sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Oh, just go on and watch. You know what you need to fix, but if any of you screw up I’ll schedule practice every day this week.” He dismisses us with a wave of his hand and a gaggle of men stumble over one another in a sorry attempt to get out the door first.

Evan and his backup, Justin Yates, wait patiently. They barely fit through the door as it is all padded up, so vying to be the first out would only get them knocked on their rear ends. Once everyone else is out the door, I step aside and motion for them to go ahead of me. Decent manners might be the only thing I have going for me. Once they waddle out like a pair of penguins, I shut the door behind me and follow them to the entry tunnel.

The roar of the crowd intensifies, and I find myself pushing my way to the front beside Archer. The new team mascot is twisting and twirling high above the ice. Flames lick the side of her platform and a shiver of panic courses through me. There’s no net. Nothing to protect her if she falls. My heart goes wild as my eyes track her every movement. Something draws me to her like a moth to those flames. Nausea rolls in my stomach and I bite back the urge to be sick.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to refocus. She’s a professional. This is what she does for a living. Surely, there are some safety measures in place. I’m here to play hockey, not hyperfocus on a performance that is not unlike what my lost love used to aspire to do. Finchley Bennett’s hopes and dreams were to break away from her father and perform acrobatics and gymnastic feats that would shock most people.

I try not to imagine what she might be doing now. Probably married to a rich man, loads of kids, maybe even running her father’s company. She might even be living out her dreams, but it’s hard to imagine that considering her father discouraged her at every turn. One thing is for sure. She’s better off without me.

“You okay?” Evan pats my shoulder, jerking me back to reality. Back from memories better left in the darkest recesses of my mind.

“Yeah. Fine, just remembered something.” I blink a few times, trying to shove the performance out of my line of sight.

“Like my dare?” he teases. He means well. It’s all in fun for him. Truthfully, he’s probably my best friend. We clicked from minute one, and I’m going to miss having him around the apartment.

“I haven’t forgotten yer bloody dare, stupid as it is.”

Evan chuckles just as the front of the tunnel erupts into flames. We startle. Coach didn’t warn us there would be pyrotechnics during the game, but it’s bloody brilliant. We are Dragons, after all. We get the motion to exit through the tunnel, now aflame thanks to our new mascot. Her leotard is red and black like our uniforms, but from this distance in the light of the flame, it seems to shimmer with scales.

And there’s something familiar about her. My eyes are drawn to her again, just like they were at practice.

“Aiden, you don’t seem okay,” Evan says, gripping my arm.

I shake my head clear. “I’ll tell you after the game. Let’s go win this.”

I can’t say why I told him I’d tell him later, never had any intention of telling anyone, but maybe letting my best friend in on the heartaches of my past might help me finally move on. Archer’s wife died in their bed beside him. If he can survive that and find love again, surely I can do the same. Maybe. The boys’ll slag me to death if I mention dating. Haven’t done it in…ever, really. Not since Finchley. This new mascot and her tricks have got my mind going backwards to another place and time, and I need a minute to get my head screwed back on tight.

The remaining two periods fly by in a blur, but I manage not to make a pox of myself. Fortunately, we win, so the team is feeling pretty good. The rest are headed to Brokedown Tavern but I’m not feeling it tonight.

“What do you mean you don’t want to go? You always want to go,” Turner says, dragging his bag off the bench. “You know, craic and all that.”

I give him the best side-eye stare I can, one that says he’s not craic.

“Greer is going to Myra and Stevie’s for a girls’ night. Mind if I crash at the apartment and pack the rest of my things?” Evan asks, saving me from obligatory explanations.

I nod once and drag my bag strap onto my back. From my peripheral, I spy Evan waving his hand toward Turner, shutting him up. They aren’t used to seein’ me down, I get it, but can’t a man have an off night once in a while?

“Meet you there,” Evan says, offering Turner one last glare before heading out.

I give myself a little more time in the locker room, waiting until it’s just Coach in his office before heading out. This way, I can avoid any of the remaining fans in the upscale lounges as well as well-meaning friends. I need to breathe for a moment. As I approach the door, I spy another person heading from the opposite direction. She’s still wearing her stage makeup, but she’s got on jeans and a Dragons sweatshirt. Ruby the Dragon.

She doesn’t see me and pushes out the door that leads to the employee parking lot. If I’m going to discover her identity, now is the time. I glance over my shoulder, second guessing this dare. If I don’t follow through, I’ll get hammered by the guys. A lifetime of pranking them will blow up in my face, which might not be a horrible thing. Still, I do have a bit of a reputation for being a prankster.

I follow her out and keep my distance. With that stage makeup, there’s very little chance I’ll get a good look at her face, but it’s worth a try. She drives a big SUV, black or dark blue, with tan interior. I spy all of this from my vantage point on the stairs, but that’s it. Perhaps she’ll take her makeup off in the car.

I hurry and slip into my beat up Mustang, the one the guys swear will fall apart any day. They’re probably right, but when I glance at the passenger seat I still see Finchley sitting there, laughing with me after our latest prank annoyed our friends. I still smell her perfume. Hear her sweet voice. Squeezing my eyes shut, I refocus yet again. Just in time to see the SUV pull onto the street.

Blast it, I missed my chance. I still might spy a peek of her at a red light, so I follow her out of the parking lot and down a few roads before we approach a light, but our vehicles aren’t matched up. Hers is several cars ahead of mine, and even being in the lane next to her, I still can’t see in the side mirror. It’s too dark out. At the next intersection, I’m supposed to turn left to head back to the flat. She’s got her right signal on, so once the light turns green, I maneuver to the right lane and turn right. It’s only a two lane road, so I won’t be able to pass her and glance in the window. I’ll have to be patient.

Two miles pass but it seems we’re moving in a big circle.

“What is she doing?” I ask aloud, squinting as if it might help me see into her thought process. Before I know it, we’re back on the main road, passing the arena again. “Huh.”

She drives into the employee lot, so I think perhaps she’s forgotten something. When she only slows for a moment near the door, then speeds back onto the road, I’m confused. Has the lass been drinking? What on earth is she doing driving around in circles? I follow her a bit longer until she pulls into the lot of the local police department. She stops at the front and I realize I’ve scared her half to death.

“Bloody crazy. What am I doing? I’m literally stalking a woman.” I smack my face and drag my hand down, growling. She must have realized I was following her, and I scared the life out of the poor woman. I pass the police station and don’t look back. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t report me to Mr. Gregory. It isn’t like my car is difficult to remember.

A baby blue ’68 fastback that’s got more rust than paint. I had dreams of fixing it up once, something Finch wanted to do with me. The girl was up for anything, crazy as me, and she loved me like no one else in the world ever could.

Date again?

I huff. I’ll be lucky if missing her doesn’t put me in an early grave. I don’t know what I’ll do when I’m too old to play hockey, left alone with my thoughts of her and what I missed out on. Heading down the road toward my flat, I decide I will tell Evan the truth. I’ll tell him everything about Finchley Bennett, how her father threatened her if I didn’t leave, and how I’m pretty sure her memory is going to be the death of me.

Twenty minutes later, I spy Evan’s car in the lot. And Archer’s. And pinch me and call me a leprechaun, Dexter Hart is in town. I groan. I adore the older members of the Dragons, but I had hoped to work through this little bump in the road with my best friend. It doesn’t happen often, memories of Finchley blinding me, but when it does it hits hard.

But Archer and Dex are dear friends, too. I can tell them anything. They’d both understand with Archer losing his wife, and with both of them knowing what losing young love is like. Still, Ronnie and Millie Jane could be with them, so tonight might not be the night for exposing my softer side.

Inside, the men are seated around the kitchen table with coffee. All three swivel their heads when I shut the door behind me before noticing the ladies are not present. They must have joined Greer and the others for girls’ night.

“Dexter Hart,” I say, beaming. “Thought you were too good for Denver these days.”

Dex runs a hand over his scruffy face and grins. “Never too good for you, Doyle. How’s it goin’?” His tone says it all. There’s something they want to talk about and it’s serious.

I blink. Yeah. For sure, Evan told them about my rut, the one that just started today but must be more obvious than I thought. My gaze shifts to Evan who sips his coffee rather than make eye contact. I stare him down until he spills.

“All right, something has been off about you since practice the other day. I don’t like it, so when Archer told us Dex was in town, I asked them to come over.”

“Is this an intervention?” I ask.

Archer chokes on his coffee. Swiping dribbles of it from his chin, he shakes his head. “No, of course not. But it would be a lie if I said we aren’t curious.”

Evan sets his mug down. “Look, you don’t date. You don’t tell us anything about your past except for little hints that something bad happened. I’m not saying you have to tell us more than you’re ready for, but ever since you saw the backside of Ruby the Dragon, you’ve been…” He motions his hand in a circle. “I don’t know. Off, I guess. It’s not like you to stare into oblivion, miss perfect prank set-ups, or easy shots.”

I drop my keys on the counter and pour a cup of coffee. It’s gonna be a long night. I pull up a chair and all three men shuffle to give me room. It’s times like these when I’m glad I never took up drinkin’, because a stiff drink would probably do me a world of good right now. Still, never took to the stuff. Watched too many good men become slaves to it, lose their careers, and more. It makes sense that Archer wants to be here to ensure I’m not falling into something I can’t recover from even if it has only been a day or two.

It”s not like me.

I inhale and stare into my coffee cup.

“I don’t date because there’s no point in it. Finchley Bennett was my one, and I left her.”

All three men lean closer as if this is a soap opera. Maybe it is in some ways, but it’s my life. It still stings.

“My family moved to the States when I was in tenth grade. I got ribbed up one side and down the other for my accent. No one wanted a thing to do with me, but Finchley was a stubborn lass. She was assigned as my math tutor, and she helped me with my American pronunciation. Thanks to her, I found a friend. A group of them.” I take a sip of coffee and think back.

“Things sort of naturally grew into more for us. It was always easy. Not a difficult thing about loving that girl, but her father was another story. See, her mother was a professional ballet dancer. Died during childbirth, and for some reason Mr. Bennett couldn’t let go of her memory. He forced Finchley to take lessons, apply to all of the fancy schools. She didn’t want that, but when your father is the wealthiest man in Chicago, you don’t have much choice.”

Evan sighs and leans back in his chair. “I don’t like where this is going.”

I lick my lips. “He hated me. In fact, his nickname for me was Irish Trash. Finchley never cared. I proposed to her the day we graduated from high school. She said yes, but her father confronted me on the day of the wedding.”

“He confronted you? Like, tried to run you off?” Dex asks.

I shrug. “Yes. Now, you gotta understand that the man would have made good on anything he said. He made threats, the kind that would have left Finchley devastated, so I left.”

Archer blinks a few times and tilts his head. “What do you mean, you left?”

I groan and scrub my hands over my face. “I mean I left her at the altar.” They share uneasy glances. “I know how it sounds, but you don’t know her father. He’s the kind of rich that ruins lives, even his own kids. He would have ruined her life, done things I couldn’t have protected her from, and the thought of him destroying the one thing I loved almost killed me. I left so he wouldn’t make her suffer.”

Archer shakes his head. “Aiden, I’m sorry. I told you that you couldn’t have an opinion about my life because you never lost someone you loved. I’m so—”

I raise my hand. “You don’t have a thing to be sorry about. June died. It’s a far cry from my story, and I never took offense, friend.”

“So, where is she now?” Dex asks.

I shrug again. “Can’t say. I finally convinced myself to stop looking in on her when she was accepted into some ritzy dance program in New York.”

Evan winces as if his next question might hurt. “Can I ask why this is causing a problem now? Ever since you saw the mascot, you’ve been distant.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “It’s what Finchley wanted to do. She loved watching acrobatics and circus performers. Her father thought it was a waste of her talent, but I swear she got stars in her eyes when she watched them perform. Ruby makes me think of her, that’s all.”

Evan taps his fingers on the table, thinking. “I rescind my dare. I don’t want to see my friend hurting, so yeah, I don’t care who the mascot is. What can we do to help you through this?”

I pat his shoulder and smile. “Yer doin’ it, kid.”