Chapter 18

Her whole bodysang like the quick slide of breath through a harmonica from bottom to top. We should kiss regularly.

Delia's senses flooded. She'd hoped by building space between them the past two days she'd be more centered around him, but it was the opposite. Like only having a fuzzy tongue after trying peanut butter the first time and then needing a full-on epi pen the second.

She could almost feel his hand cupped around her neck. Smell the subtle, clean scent of his soap. Her body remembered everything she'd tried to push out of her head, and the hairs on her neck stood at attention as Jack strode down the walkway next to their side of the boards.

He grinned up at her again. Was that smile for her or the cameras? The Snowballs were the ones scheduled for ice time, but she and Jack had an equally important game to play. I want you to look smitten. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. The idea of his lips on hers grew like Morning Glory, choking out everything else in her head.

"There he is." Clara waved at her little brother, and Delia gave her best Oh, I hadn't noticed expression. Clara lowered her voice as Jack ascended the stairs. "Is it weird? This whole thing?"

Delia exhaled, focusing hard on the players circling the ice. "Yep." Her lips snapped a little too hard on the end of the word, and she gave an apologetic smile. "Not because of Jack. He's great. You know what I mean."

Clara nodded, but her brows creased. "I've been worried about him. He's not—I don't know if you've talked about it, but dating hasn't been one of his top priorities the past couple of years."

Delia nodded. "I know about Angie. I'm so sorry for your loss." She'd done it. Said the thing that made no sense because what else was there to say? She wanted to apologize again, but bit her tongue.

Clara's shoulders relaxed. "I thought this whole thing might . . . I don't know. I keep trying to get him to move on." She looked as if she wanted to say more, but Jack was closing in, shuffling down the aisle.

"I think you're in my seat." Jack grinned at his sister.

Clara rolled her eyes, then forced a bright smile. "I was keeping it warm for you." She stood and gave him a hug, then shifted so he could get past.

Jack's eyes locked on Delia, and his lips twitched. He didn't sit. "Hey."

He towered above her, and her face was directly in front of the worn button of his jeans. Delia swallowed hard, forcing her head straight up. Jack's eyebrow raised, a silent message that she understood instantly. They're watching.

Delia stood, her heart punching against her ribs. Jack reached for her, and as his hands circled her waist, it felt as if someone trailed a feather down every bone in her spine. She inhaled sharply and forced her knees not to buckle.

Jack pulled her against him and lowered his head, his cheek brushing hers. He'd shaved. "I hope Clara wasn't fangirling too hard." His breath tickled the baby hairs next to her ear.

"She wasn't." Delia's heart was in her throat, and she couldn't tell if the overhead lighting was blinding her or if she was seeing spots. Breathe. She slipped her hands under the bottom of Jack's coat so she could link her hands behind his back to squeeze her pointer finger. This wasn't real. This was only a show. "How have you been?"

Jack reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, and Delia shivered. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head. Thank the hockey gods he couldn't see her face. She was starting to sweat. "No, I'm good," she squeaked.

"You're trembling."

"I'm nervous," she whispered. Name the feeling. That always helped, didn't it? His smile spread against her cheek. That sure as hell wasn't helping. Why wouldn't her body listen to her damn thoughts? This isn't real. She repeated it over and over, but the more she pushed, the more her body bucked against her.

"Why are you nervous?" His voice was a low hum.

An ache spread through her middle, and Delia squeezed her eyes shut, wrapping her arms tighter around him without meaning to. It was sheer comfort to be pressed up against him, which immediately activated her inner therapist. Maybe if you spent more time cultivating personal relationships and had more physical touch in your life, you wouldn't be hyperventilating when a man put his arms around you.

Pressure built in her head until she couldn't keep the words from spilling out. "Umm, let's see. I'm meeting a bunch of people I don't know, who all understand this sport that you love and I know nothing about. I actually searched up the rules last night on the internet, and I wasn't going to tell you that because I wanted to look like I did grow up in this country paying attention to something other than chord progressions and poetry. Especially because I always tease my mom about not being officially Canadian, and then here I am knowing nothing about hockey. There are hundreds of people here with cameras, and I've been thinking a lot about how I have resting bitch face, which isn't something I can really fix, but it does make sense of a thousand other life experiences, and then I see you walking over here and—" Delia pressed her lips shut, cutting off the word vomit. "I'm sorry. I talk when I'm overwhelmed."

"And when it"s late after a show." His lips brushed her skin.

Delia nodded. "Also after I laugh really hard, but not when I"m mad. I shut up when I"m mad. I think I should"ve given a better disclaimer that night at Malley's."

He huffed a breath through his nose. "Sometimes it"s more fun to figure it out."

"Maybe with some people. I"m pretty sure my hidden treasures are cursed." She imagined Jack lifting a hand to the moonlight and only seeing his bones.

Jack chuckled, and the sound sent a thrill of pleasure through her. She pressed her finger. Not real. Not real. "I"ll teach you about hockey. I won"t even ask for your Social Insurance card."

"What about my birth certificate?"

"Nope."

Delia's shoulders relaxed an inch. "I"m not sure I believe you." She could hear his grin widen.

His hand moved an inch up her back. "Why?"

"You still haven"t taught me that song."

"What song?"

"The Tony Knows one. From breakfast."

Jack shifted on his feet, his chest moving the lace under her shirt. "I never said I"d teach you that. This, I"m offering."

"Maybe I want to know the song more than I want to know hockey."

"That"ll cost more than proof of Canadian citizenship."

Delia laughed. "I have nothing more valuable." She was soft butter again. Her hands were no longer clasped. When had her fingers splayed over his lower back? And when had she stopped shivering? She glanced up and saw the grey coils hanging in the heaters now glowing orange. Delia pulled back and looked up into Jack"s eyes. They were dark behind his lashes.

"I"ll be the judge of that."

Her heart skipped. "I could just search the song up online."

"Then why haven"t you?" He raised an eyebrow in challenge. Delia pressed her lips together, redistributing the lip balm she"d applied in the car. He glanced over her shoulder and pressed his lips to her forehead, whispering, "Lots of cameras."

When he pulled back and his gaze lowered to hers, it held another silent question. It was stupidly simple to read him. She"d sat across from how many first dates over the past year trying to figure out what to say, and then here she was with Jack where she either couldn"t keep her mouth shut or didn"t need to say a word.

Delia answered with a nod, her blood already rushing in her ears. Jack"s eyes flicked to her lips, and her whole body vibrated like a plucked string of her guitar. She tipped her chin, hyperaware of the lull in the chatter around them. People were watching. That's what they wanted. Still, the thought that she, Delia Melise, hadn"t been photographed kissing someone ever blared like that red horn in her head.

Her mind grasped for a hundred different threads, then snapped back into one solid string the instant Jack"s lips met hers. Everything inside her went still. The sound of blades and sticks on ice, footsteps on stairs, shuffling on benches, laughter, and conversation faded to a low, gentle buzz. She instinctively flexed, pressing her fingertips against his shirt.

And then he was gone.

Jack stepped back. He paused a moment, then drew a breath and grabbed her hand, tugging on her arm to join him. Delia stared at their entwined fingers as she sat on her cushion. I'm not ready for that. Jack Harrison was holding her hand, and Delia was still reeling from how torturously short that kiss was when she'd wanted it to be like it was the other night. When he'd been all hunger and angst, not whatever that was, all gentle and practical without a storm raging behind it, like?—

Like they'd done it a thousand times before.

Because it was for the cameras.

Delia sucked in a breath and held it, then slowly exhaled as she replayed their conversation in the living room on Friday. Yes. He said he was going to think about it differently. He was going to focus on the business side, on what he wanted with the Blizzard.

That was all this was. Perfect. Delia stared at the players swirling around the rink and swallowed hard.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

Delia nodded, her throat thick. "Mmhmm."

Jack didn"t let go of her hand, instead pulling it close and lacing his fingers with hers. Bile rose in her throat. "So what did you look up?"

"Hmm?"

"You said you looked up hockey rules."

Right. Hockey. They could"ve been sitting inside a Chuck E. Cheese for all their setting mattered to her at the moment. Delia"s world had shrunk to the warmth of Jack"s palm and the feel of his hip brushing hers. She scooted her cushion an inch to the right so they weren't touching.

Jack's eyes flinched, and then someone"s hands landed on his shoulders. He swivelled, dropping Delia's hand, and his face split into a smile of recognition. "Fly, you made it, bud." He stood and pulled the man behind them into a hug.

Alvin was perched on high alert on the next bench up, and Mary signaled for Delia's attention. "What was that?" She mouthed. Her eyes were wide. Delia waved it off, realizing she'd forgotten to mention their new public-displays-of-affection strategy.

Jack was already turning back. "Fly, this is Delia."

Fly put out a hand and Delia stood to shake it. His smile was wide. "I"ve heard a lot about you."

Delia wrapped her arms around herself. "Whatever you read online, it"s not true."

Fly chuckled. "I don"t read gossip online, I get it straight from the source." He winked at Jack.

Delia looked between the two of them. "You told him about me?"

Fly grinned. "I don"t think dating you is something any guy would want to keep quiet."

Delia"s cheeks warmed in spite of herself. Maybe not if they were actually dating. Jack had said the only people that knew the truth about their relationship were Clara and Oscar, so what was he telling his teammates? His friends? Delia hadn"t talked to anyone about Jack outside of her close circle. But, truthfully, she didn"t have anyone outside her close circle that she talked to under normal circumstances.

When had that all died out? What had been the final blow to her weekend jam sessions or the indie concerts she used to attend with her friends she"d waitressed with at Earls? It had definitely been her doing. She"d been the one to start turning down their invitations. She"d been the one to prioritize her own projects, new people and artists that she hoped would open up her opportunities.

"Fly was on the Snowballs before I finished with the AHL. He"s the reason I found them in the first place," Jack explained.

Fly shook his head. "You would"ve found an Elite League team without me, I just wanted it to be mine."

Delia frowned. "So how do you know each other if you didn"t play on the same team?"

"Fly was helping out on the coaching staff for World Juniors the first year I was there."

"World Juniors?"

Fly leaned in so he didn't have to yell over the noise from the crowd. "A tourney for national teams with players under age twenty."

Delia turned to Jack. "National teams? As in, you played for Team Canada?"

Jack nodded. "So did this guy. Just back when you and I were in diapers."

Fly scoffed. "You were at least swinging on the monkey bars by then, bud." He pointed at the other side of their bench. "That"s my girlfriend. She didn"t want to walk over everybody, but I"m sure she"d love to say hi to both of you at some point."

"Between first and second." Jack said.

Delia got the reference and felt embarrassingly pleased with herself. There are three periods in hockey. At least she had that much straight.

The stands were filling up fast, and their own section had multiplied exponentially since they"d sat down. Delia nudged Jack as Fly shuffled back toward the steps. "Tell me who everyone is."

Jack started at the top with an older woman wearing a navy blue quilted coat over a sweater that looked like it had come straight off the rack at Northern Reflections. She was showing something on her phone to a little girl with strawberry blonde hair. "That"s Ryan"s mom and his daughter Amaya."

"He"s on the team?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I"ll point him out to you during the game. That"s Jenna?—"

"I know her from the livestream."

Jack shot her a look. "If you fake cheat on me with Country, we"re going to have words."

Delia laughed. "Imagine the press on that, though. You"d be the poor sap who got blindsided by a fame-hungry pop star. Women would flock to you." Joking was good. Even if she was still circling her attraction to him like a coyote. How was it so bad? How was it So. Good?

"True. Though, I doubt Jenna will see the benefits." He pointed at a group of women sitting next to her. "Those are some of Jenna"s friends. I honestly don"t remember all their names, but I know that one sitting next to her is Rhonda."

Delia raised an eyebrow, noting Rhonda"s bronze skin, her high cheekbones and tight sweater. Interesting that he remembered her name and nobody else"s. Guilt sank in her stomach at the thought after everything Jack had told her back at the bed and breakfast. Jack hadn"t been with someone in three years. On paper, they both sounded crazy.

But hookup culture was stressful. Awkward. She"d faked an orgasm just to make one of her trial experiences end, then pretended she had a dog that needed to be let out so she could escape before nine o"clock. Not that he would"ve wanted her to stay since they hardly knew anything about each other. She"d never felt so empty as when she"d walked down that sidewalk to her car.

Sex felt incredible, yes, but with someone she didn"t feel a real connection with? There were a lot of things that were pleasurable for longer than two minutes and didn"t chase with existential dread and self-loathing. Sitting on the beach. Eating a dark chocolate brownie, for example. If anything, Jack"s avoidance of physical relationships after being with someone he"d wanted to spend forever with made her jealous, not judgmental. He'd had something real. What was her excuse?

"That"s Mike"s family, Curtis"s wife and kids." Jack finished off the row, then pointed to the end of their bench. "You already know the Thompson"s, but that"s Penny on the end there. Brett"s girlfriend. And right below her are two of Emma"s friends, Lindsay and Vaughn. She works with them doing design and photography. They come to the pub and Sunday Supper every once in a while. They"re the ones that helped with the renovation of the bed and breakfast you"re at."

Hands shot up, waving at Jack when they noticed him looking their direction. Delia took them all in. Talking and laughing, handing out beers from a cooler, hugging, smiling.

They sat back down on their fold-out foam seats. "You've only known these guys since October?"

"Yeah."

She shook her head. "It's impressive. How close everyone seems. Like you"re one big happy family."

Jack exhaled. "That"s what a team is supposed to be."

Delia thought about the only teams she"d ever been on, most recently IndieLake. Some of them had felt like this. Debate team. Definitely a strange, close-knit little family in grade ten. Her weekend team at the restaurant. Some of them had been better team players than others, specifically the cook who always left her a thick slice of mocha mud pie on the edge of the counter around eleven o"clock when the lounge was still full but the dining room was slowing down.

But IndieLake didn"t feel like a team. Not like the Snowballs, at least.

Delia perked up when all the players started back toward their benches. "Are we starting?"

Jack nodded, and it was only then that Delia noticed his brows were knitted together. So easy to read. "Are you nervous?" He shot her a confused look. "For the Snowballs. You said this game will determine who they play first in the playoffs, right?"

"Right, sorry. I was in my head. Yeah, if they beat Zambone It tonight?—"

Delia held up a hand. "What did you just say?"

"If they beat Zambone It?—"

"That"s their name?" Delia pointed at the white jerseys with grey and mustard-yellow arm stripes crowded around the boards of the visiting bench. Jack nodded. "What are the other names in the league?"

Jack"s mouth quirked. "Uh, let"s see . . . they"re all very serious. Stiff Sticks and Dangle, Mill Hoodies, Puck Me, Don"s Cherry Pickers?—"

Delia laughed. "I thought this was a competitive league?"

"Damn straight."

"But you name your teams like sixteen-year-old boys."

He scoffed. "Those puns are way too sophisticated for your average teenager."

Delia shook her head as an announcer pointed their attention to the north side of the rink. A woman who looked like she was ready to open for Donny Osmond at Caesar's Palace stood with a mic in her hand. The audience rose and faced the flag as she sang the national anthem a cappella. As the final phrase, we stand on guard for thee, rang out, the crowd erupted.

Delia's heart swelled. She might not understand the game, but the rush of energy from sitting and cheering in a crowd was palpable.

The starting players from both teams circled the ice as music pumped through the speakers and the referee skated out from a box in the middle of the boards.

Delia nudged Jack's arm. "If you aren"t nervous, then what had you in your head?" She was a glutton for punishment. The more she knew what was in Jack's head, the more she wanted, but she couldn't force herself to stop.

Jack drew a breath and leaned over his knees. "You were talking about this team being family." He ran his thumb over his chin. "I guess it made me think about what the differences were. Here compared to the Blizzard."

"I imagine the level of competitiveness is higher."

Jack shook his head. "No, I meant the difference with me?—"

"What"d we miss?" Clara appeared next to Jack holding a bucket of popcorn with Oscar standing behind her, and the moment was gone. Jack sat up straight as they took their seats next to him. "No face off yet?"

"Just in time." Jack stole a handful of her popcorn, and Clara smacked his hand.

Delia grinned. "I can have Alvin or Mary go get us popcorn if you want some."

Jack shook his head and shoved the handful in his mouth. When he finished chewing, he said, "No, I don"t want any. I just wanted some of Clara"s."

"Are you that brother?"

"Hell, yes." Jack stole a napkin and wiped his fingers, then reached out and took her hand again, pulling it over to rest on his thigh. And just like that, Delia"s head was louder than the fans packed into the stands.

The game started with a puck drop. Delia tried to make sense of it. Jack leaned in and whispered explanations for whistles and calls, but Delia didn't want to be a chore. She stopped asking questions mid-first period and just took everything in. The fast pace of the game, the crowd, trash talking or cheering depending on who had the puck.

She winced every time a player got slammed into the boards, regardless of whether their jersey was blue or white. When two players dropped mitts and started hammering each other with their fists, Delia tensed and turned her head as the fans went wild. "How? How is this something people want to see?"

Jack"s voice was barely audible over the roar. "It"s imperative to the game."

She scowled. "It makes no sense! We pride ourselves on being kind and considerate, not violent, and this is our national sport?"

"We pride ourselves on not putting up with shit." Jack ran his free hand through his hair. "Maybe it"s not even pride, just gratitude, and we won"t let some dickhead high stick and ruin what we"ve got going."

Delia"s attention was drawn back to the ice where the ref led both players to the penalty box. "Wait, so fighting isn't even allowed?"

Jack shrugged. "You have to weigh the benefit and risk."

Delia"s eyes narrowed. "You fight in games?"

"Not always. I"ve never been an enforcer."

"Which is?"

"Someone protecting their players. In charge of keeping the other team honest."

Delia turned back to the ice. "Was that the Snowballs' enforcer?"

Jack nodded. "Sean. He"s the captain."

"Emma"s brother." Delia glanced down the row, and her eyes widened. Emma was cheering louder than anyone as her brother took a seat and wiped the blood from his nose. "This is insane."

"Welcome to my world." Jack grinned as he stood and cheered. It made less than zero sense to her how grown men could be excited about getting their noses bashed in, but watching Jack get riled up was enough to make her curious. There was something about the intensity in his eyes. The vein pulsing in his neck.

He stripped off his coat and dropped it over the back of their fold-out seats, and as he raised his arms, he exposed a strip of his stomach. It wasn"t much, but the flash of muscle and dark hair was enough to send her belly swooping.

She needed to get laid. But that was the problem wasn't it? She didn't want to just get laid. She glanced down the bench at Clara and Oscar. Gary and Sharla. Then she focused hard on the blue jerseys as the game started up again at one of the painted-on circles to the side of the net.

Jack lowered back to his seat. His skin was flushed as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing the ink swirling on his left forearm. Not all bad at all.

The first period ended with the score still 0-0, and Delia turned to Alvin behind them. "I"d love to take you up on that washroom break." Jack gave her a questioning look. "He has a private staff washroom we can use so we don"t get accosted."

Jack looked impressed. "I"ll come with."

It was slow going. Everyone wanted to say hi to Jack on the way to the stairs, and once they got there, strangers reached out of their rows to catch both of their attention. Asking for a quick selfie or autograph, which both of them gave without complaint. Finally they reached the cement floor next to the boards, and Alvin pointed to the south bend, following them closely. They passed a security guard protecting the player dressing rooms, and Alvin took them through an empty hall to a washroom next to the lower-level offices.

Jack motioned for Delia to go first, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the room. Silence. Her ears buzzed like she"d just gotten out of a concert, and her whole body sighed with relief from the intense stimulation of sitting in the stands. The game was fun, but she was quickly reminded of why she didn"t normally do things like this. Why she"d stopped going out to clubs or crowded restaurants with her friends. It was too much.

She took care of business and washed her hands, then used a paper towel to grip the door handle and pull, using her hip to prop the door and dropping the soggy paper in the trash. "Your turn," she started to say then realized Jack was frowning, staring at his phone screen. "Is everything okay?" She stepped out to stand next to him.

He exhaled. "That podcast I recorded went live this morning."

Delia wanted to congratulate him, but held her tongue. His expression was bleak. "Not good?"

"It seems I said something that is creating a bit of a stir."

Delia sighed. "Yeah, I"ve been there. In October I said something about ADHD that people didn"t like. Never mind the fact that I have it."

Jack looked up. "I was joking about puck bunnies."

She made a face. "Eesh."

"It was a joke."

"Probably came off as slut shaming."

He balked. "I would never?—"

"I know!" Delia put a hand on his chest. "I said it might've come off that way, not that you meant it."

Jack's nostrils flared. He drew a breath and dropped his eyes. "Yeah. Lisa, our head of marketing, says I have to go to media training."

Delia pursed her lips. Gone were the proverbial Tarzan yells and fists beating his chest. Now he was like a puppy walking away with his tail between his legs. "I"m sure you"re thrilled about having to sit in front of a computer screen alone for two hours answering multiple choice questions."

Jack shook his head. "She wants me to do it in-person." He turned his phone screen, and Delia read the name on the suggested appointment. Jenna McAllister. Her eyes widened. "Wait, does this mean if I came with you, I could talk to Country?"