For the Win Read online

  We end the practice with a small-area game. The nets are set up on the sides of the ice, at one end. Playing in a small area forces us to be creative since we have a limited amount of space. We have to be in control of the puck and use our teammates, and it gives everyone a lot of puck touches, meaning it’s fast and fun. And competitive. I’m intense, going hard for the puck, shooting at Bergie and making him work hard too. I even get it past him a few times.

  At the end, we’re all breathing hard and laughing.

  I’m laughing.

  I shouldn’t be laughing. My dad is dying.

  I close my eyes briefly as I glide across the ice, stick in my hands. I can’t think that way. Life is still happening all around us.

  I coast toward the gate and my eyes widen when I see Arya sitting in the stands right behind the bench. Gary’s talking to her about something, and she nods, and stands, since practice is over. I hop off the ice and stop as she walks down the steps.

  “Hey,” I say. “You’re still here.”

  “Yes. Gary thought it would be good for me to watch you guys on the ice.” Her face is animated, eyes bright. “That was really cool.” She pauses. “You worked hard.”

  “Yeah. It felt good.”

  We stand eyeing each other, me sweaty and stinky in my gear, her golden and bright, separated by plexiglass. She’s never going to use my number that I gave her. I want to push…you don’t get what you wish for…but I don’t.

  “Well,” I finally say. “I better go shower.”

  She tips her head to one side. “Is everything okay?”

  I frown. “Why do you ask that?”

  “I don’t know…you just seem…different.”

  Huh. Different. “I got some bad news yesterday. I’m dealing with it.”

  She nods slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  More guys are coming off the ice behind me. I need to move. “See you.” I head down the tunnel to the dressing room.

  I get on a bike to cool down, stretch, and then hit the shower. Dressed in my athletic shorts and T-shirt, I grab my phone from my locker and stroll into the players’ lounge to see what’s for lunch today. I swipe my thumb over my screen and my feet stop.

  There’s a text. From Arya.

  Yes. I’ll go out with you again.

  Chapter 10

  Arya

  I watched Harrison during the yoga class. His usual smile was absent. His mouth is perpetually tipped up at the corners, giving him that boyish, carefree look, but today it just isn’t there. He barely even looked at me. He did focus on class, though. His big strong body is getting more flexible and graceful with each session. All these guys are amazingly fit, but I do love watching Harrison.

  After class, I was excited to observe the practice and see the guys in action. I guess I could go to a game, but this is a different perspective, and it’s really up close. Gary explained some of the drills they were doing and what they were working on. I don’t understand a lot of the hockey skills and strategy, but it’s fascinating.

  As in the class, I have a hard time taking my eyes off Harrison. On the ice, he’s different again—powerful and intense, his every move deliberate, his face austere and focused.

  To be honest, it turned me on.

  Yikes.

  Okay, if I’m being honest, everything about him turns me on. And this has been the problem.

  I watch him interact with the coaches and his teammates. There are moments where they kid around and laugh. The coaches yell at everyone to work harder but give them words of approval. I can see the respect and camaraderie among all of them and it’s impressive. Kind of…loveable.

  Likeable, I mean.

  Then he tells me got bad news.

  That’s the reason his smile is missing.

  I hope it’s not something serious. Maybe he’s being sent back to Pasadena. I hope he’s okay.

  After he leaves the ice to shower, I make my way out of the arena, picking up my bike near the security booth. I lean it against the concrete wall and tip my head back. I remember the class where he came to my defense over an inappropriate comment. I remember how concerned he was when I dashed out of the restaurant. I remember Everly’s obvious affection for her brother.

  I pull out my phone and find Harrison’s number. I blow out a breath, then tap in a message to him.

  There.

  I don’t even know if he’s still interested. Today he barely looked at me. Only said a few words to me. Maybe he’s given up and moved on.

  I tuck my phone into the pouch inside my yoga bag and walk my bike outside. Another sunny day in California. I love it. I tip my face up to the sun and prepare to mount my bike when I hear my phone buzz.

  If it’s Harrison telling me “never mind,” I don’t want to see it. I’ll check it later.

  I grab my phone. So much for self-discipline.

  It is Harrison, replying to my text. One word. Now?

  I laugh out loud. Relief lightens my limbs. I guess he’s still interested.

  I have classes this afternoon.

  He answers right away. Dinner?

  I can’t stop smiling. That would be nice.

  I can pick you up, if you tell me where.

  I scrunch up my face. That’s not happening, but I don’t want to seem weird about it. I’ll meet you…where?

  After a moment, I’m about to get back on my bike, when I get his text. Noir. 7:00?

  I tap back my agreement and, still smiling, jump on my bike and pedal off.

  It’s not far to the beach and I get onto the path that follows the shore. It’s an easy, pleasant ride to Rose Avenue. I pass the Golden Fish and head up Rose toward Prana.

  Excitement bubbles inside me, thinking about seeing Harrison again. I had fun talking to him the day we went out. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. It’s crazy.

  I don’t want to let myself ponder what happens after that. I get a tight, anxious feeling in my stomach when I contemplate how things could go, so I’m going to push that away, focus on right now, because I have classes to teach and my students deserve my best.

  My last class is at four, so I have time to go home and change, thankfully. Last time I went out with Harrison, I was still in my yoga gear. I hardly ever dress up anymore, since my life is yoga and biking and running, and my friends don’t care what I look like when we go out. But tonight, I’d like to look a little more put together.

  I already let Taj know I’m going out, so he went to the Golden Fish to hang out with Ziggy.

  I’m even going to splurge on an Uber so I don’t have to ride my bike. This makes a skirt or a dress and heels an option. But I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. And I don’t have a big wardrobe to choose from.

  Yeesh! It’s been a long time since I’ve been through this pre-date dilemma.

  I decide on a dress, wash my face, and reapply makeup. I usually only wear eye shadow, mascara, and lip balm, and all I do tonight is use a darker eye shadow and a lip gloss with a bronze shimmer. I leave my hair down, also unusual.

  Oh my God, it doesn’t matter!

  When I get to Noir, I walk in peering around, uncertain if Harrison’s here yet. “I’m meeting someone,” I tell the hostess. Then I spot him. My heart jumps in my chest. “Oh, there he is.”

  I make my way to the table, conscious of Harrison watching me.

  He seems to approve. He stands to greet me. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I smile, our eyes meeting and holding. Heat shimmers over my skin.

  “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks.”

  He pulls out my chair for me, which I love—Mom would approve!—then takes his own seat again. He looks pretty damn good too, wearing narrow beige pants, a white shirt with the collar open, and a black cotton blazer ove
r it.

  “This place is lovely,” I comment, dragging my gaze away from him to survey the small restaurant. “I’ve never been here.”

  “I’m glad you like it. Do you like wine? I don’t even know that.”

  “Sure.”

  “They have a lot here. It’s a wine bar. I guess you know that.”

  I smile at him. Is he as nervous as I am? Another thing that makes my heart go squishy. “It’ll be fun to try different things.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, your season’s almost over.”

  “Four more games. Tomorrow we leave for Vancouver and Calgary, and then two home games next week. Wow.” He shakes his head. “It goes fast.”

  “You play a lot of games, though.”

  “Yeah, we do. Things get even tougher now.” He pauses. “Will you still be doing yoga classes for us in the playoffs?”

  “We haven’t decided yet. They wanted to see how things went and if you guys feel it helps.”

  “Well, I’ll put in a good word for you. It hasn’t been long, but I feel really good. Physically.”

  His eyes shadow. I remember the bad news. Should I ask about it? I don’t want to be a downer.

  “That’s good, I’m glad to hear it. I think there are benefits, and for the playoffs not getting injured and being able to focus are very important.”

  “Yeah, for sure. How were your classes today?”

  We make small talk while we look over the menu. They have a three-course wine dinner plus dessert, each course paired with a different wine, which we decide to have.

  “No seafood, right?” Harrison says, looking at the menu.

  “You remember.”

  “Sure.”

  That’s so…nice.

  Dinner starts with a salad of greens with cranberries and sunflower seeds, served with a delicious Spanish rosé brut.

  “If the team doesn’t hire you to do more classes, I’m going to keep coming to your other classes,” Harrison says.

  I tense briefly, make myself relax. “Sure.”

  “Today it really helped clear my mind and focus.”

  “That’s good.” I’m still curious.

  “It was also you,” he says. His words should alarm me, but he says it in such a low, quiet tone, not even looking at me, I’m touched rather than scared. “Just your…I don’t know.” His cheeks redden. “Your serenity. And your voice. You’re so calming.”

  “Oh. That’s so nice to hear.”

  “I needed that today.” He looks up and meets my eyes, his smile crooked.

  “I kind of got that.”

  “You’re really perceptive.”

  “I guess. I try to read the group and feel what’s going on.”

  “I think you’re good at that.”

  “Thanks.” I pick up my wine and take a gulp. The bubbles tingle all the way down my esophagus. “I enjoyed watching you practice. Seeing you interact with your teammates. I think you’re good at reading them too.”

  “Yeah?” He tips his head, eyebrows elevated. “Cool.” He pauses, then says, “I wish I’d known you were there. I would have shown off more.”

  I laugh. “I was impressed enough.”

  He straightens. “You were?”

  “Sure. You guys are some of the best hockey players in the world.”

  He purses his lips. “Oh. You mean you were impressed with the team.”

  I chuckle again. “Okay, I was impressed with you.”

  “There we go.” He smiles. He lifts his wine flute and holds it up to me. I clink mine against it in a little toast, and we both finish off our glasses.

  The next course is pasta—tagliatelle with cremini mushrooms, tomatoes, spinach, and peas. It’s a small serving, the perfect size. The wine is a California Roussanne blend. “Delicious,” I say after taking a sip.

  “I’ve always wanted to do a winery road trip,” Harrison says. “It sounds so cool. I left here when I was eighteen and since I’ve been back, it’s never happened. I’d love to drive up to Napa Valley.”

  “Oh, that would be amazing! I haven’t seen much of California since I’ve been here, but I love it.”

  “Why’d you leave North Dakota? Tired of the winters?”

  “Something like that. I needed a change.”

  “That’s pretty brave, coming this far and starting over.”

  “It is scary,” I agree. “Luckily I knew Taj. He moved here after college and has made friends here, so that really helped. I wasn’t totally alone.”

  “Oh yeah.” He frowns, his fork poised over his plate. “The roommate.”

  I smile. “Yes.” I twirl some pasta ribbons around my fork. “You should meet him. His boyfriend owns the Golden Fish, right near the beach.”

  “Boyfriend?” Then he smiles. “Ah. Yeah.”

  My insides warm with the knowledge that he was a little jealous. Except jealousy can actually be a dangerous, ugly thing. I didn’t get that from Harrison, though.

  I don’t know. I don’t trust my instincts anymore. I don’t trust myself. Apparently, my judgment is flawed when it comes to men, and trusting the good in people is naïve. So maybe his jealousy of Taj should be a red flag to me.

  I just don’t know.

  I sigh.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh. Nothing. Sorry. Just a busy day.”

  Conversation flows a lot more easily through dinner than when we started out, both of us relaxing. The third course is a chicken breast with pesto, accompanied by glazed fennel and baby carrots with a Pinot Noir from Oregon, and then dessert is a lemon bar served with a Sauternes.

  “I get why they serve this for dessert,” I say, after sipping the wine. “But it’s a bit sweet for me.”

  “It goes nicely with the lemon, though.”

  “We sound like we know what we’re talking about.”

  He laughs. “We will, after we do that Napa trip.”

  Oh. That sounds so amazing and fun. And impossible. We barely know each other. My heart beats a little faster.

  Don’t do this. Don’t ruin a lovely evening with a freak-out.

  I excuse myself to use the ladies’ room, do some deep breathing. I breathe in courage and breathe out doubt. I’m okay. I touch up my lip gloss and smile at my reflection.

  I really am okay. I’m doing this.

  After dinner, Harrison suggests walking to the beach, which is only a couple of blocks away. I’m in heels, and I’m not used to wearing them, but I’ve been sitting for nearly two hours so I can handle it.

  Once we cross Ocean Avenue, south of the pier, and reach the beach, I slip off my shoes and carry the slingbacks hooked over a finger. The ocean is vast and dark, the sky an ombré from baby blue at the horizon to midnight above us. The bright neon and glittering lights of the pier glow in the distance.

  “Beautiful,” I say with a sigh.

  “Are you warm enough?”

  “I have a sweater. Um, can you hold my purse?”

  “Sure.”

  He’s a keeper. I remember my mom saying any man who will hold a woman’s purse without complaint is a keeper. But that’s not a reliable way to judge a man.

  God! Why do I keep analyzing things? Why am I trying to judge him, assess his character? I should just be enjoying the moment, because this is a spectacular moment. I’m on the beach, next to the ocean, a lovely breeze in my hair, and a handsome man holding my purse while I put on my sweater.

  There are people all around us, even though it’s dark. It’s fine.

  A couple walking toward us has a dog on a leash that reminds me of Roxy, my parents’ French bulldog. “Oh, look!” I smile at the people. “A Frenchie! What’s your dog’s name?”

  They smile back at me. “Leo.”

  “He�
��s so sweet! My parents have a dog almost like this. Her name’s Roxy. I miss her.”

  Leo lets me rub his ears then wistfully stroke down his back a few times. I give him a final pat, then stand to continue walking.

  Harrison slants me an amused glance. “You like dogs?”

  “I love dogs! I miss Roxy so much. I wish I could have one, but it’s Taj’s place. Someday.”

  “Yeah.” We walk in silence for a few seconds. Beneath my bare feet, the pavement is still warm from the sun. “So, remember I said earlier I got bad news?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t want to bring it up at dinner, because it’s kind a bummer.”

  I turn my head up and sideways to peer at him. Without my heels on, he’s a lot taller than me. “You can talk about it if you want.”

  “You noticed something was off.”

  “Yeah, I kind of did.”

  “That’s why I said you’re so good at reading people.”

  Huh.

  “I found out yesterday that my dad has Alzheimer’s.”

  “Oh. Oh no.” My heart squeezes. “That’s awful.”

  “Yeah.” He sighs. “We’ve been suspecting it for a while. But they’ve done testing and ruled out other things, and it seems that’s what it is.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Almost seventy-three.”

  “Oh.” My eyes widen.

  Harrison smiles. “I know what you’re thinking. My mom is Dad’s second wife. He was married before. His two sons from his first marriage are in their fifties. That’s how I have nieces and nephews the same age as me.”

  “Right.”

  “He didn’t have us until he was a lot older. So. It’s not like he’s young. But still. It’s hard to deal with.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  I don’t know how, but my hand has slipped into his as we walk. I give it a squeeze.

  “I’ve been thinking about it so much, since yesterday. I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time with it.”

  “I think that’s normal. He’s your dad.”

  He nods.

  “I still have both my parents. I can’t imagine what it will be like.”