“You did not, but I just guessed you had to pack tonight so I stopped in and asked them if they had anything for you.”
“You’re the best.” Mike stopped to listen to the violin music rolling down the staircase. It was some fast-paced tune he couldn’t identify. And it sounded angry. “Uh, is that an original composition?”
“Ja,” Hans said. “She’s been playing it for a while.”
“What’s her damage? Math homework?”
Hans nodded. “Math. And also something about you and dinner.”
Crap. “Did she eat dinner?”
“Ja. Some.”
“I’ll go say hello.” He climbed the stairs, and the music got louder and louder. He waited in her doorway while Elsa built the tune to a frenzy and then finished it with one loud, lingering bellow across her D string. “Hi,” he said when the last reverberations died away.
She didn’t reply. She just wiped rosin off her instrument with a cloth, then loosened the pin in her bow.
“What’s shakin’?” he tried.
“Now you want to hang out?” She slammed the case shut.
“Something wrong with now?”
Elsa looked up, her face red. “You’ll be with Lauren in Detroit, right? But tonight was your only night to be with me.”
Oh boy. “You know what? I was home for hours today. You were on your phone for a lot of it.” But, fuck. The day’s itinerary wasn’t the point. “You have friends. I’m not allowed?”
“Friends,” she spat, her eyes flashing. “Mom’s been in the ground a whole year now. Guess it’s time for you to go running back to your slutty girlfriend.”
“Elsa!” he barked, his blood pressure skyrocketing.
“What?” she snapped, the challenge on her face clear.
“I can’t believe . . . No—I’m ashamed to hear you talk like that,” he roared. “And what’s more? If your mother heard you say that, she’d be ashamed, too!”
Later he’d wonder why he had to go and do that. But at the mention of her mother, Elsa’s bravado crumbled. She turned her face away as if she’d been slapped. Then her eyes welled up. “Get OUT of my room!” she screamed.
Now there was a great idea.
He turned and bounded down the stairs to the living room. Before he got there, her bedroom door slammed with such force that he heard one of her pictures fall off the wall, too. And when his feet brought him into the living room again, poor Hans was still sitting there, looking uncomfortable.
He’d lost his cool and actually shamed his daughter. And in front of an audience. “Shit.”
Beacon took a deep breath. Instead of bolting upstairs to his own room to regroup, he threw himself down on the other end of the couch from Hans, putting his feet on the coffee table. Then he tipped his head back and sighed.
She’s a grieving child, he reminded himself. It’s too much for her to process. If things worked out between him and Lauren, there’d be a hell of a lot more to process, though. What would Elsa say if he and Lauren were having a baby?
Nothing civil, that was for sure.
Hans got up and disappeared for a minute, reappearing with a beer for each of them.
“I knew I liked you,” Mike muttered as his hand closed around the cold bottle.
“Maybe wait until tomorrow to talk about it with her,” Hans said quietly.
“At least. She can’t go around calling people . . .” Slutty. He couldn’t even say it out loud. Poor Lauren. “But if I went in there right now we’d both say more things we regret. I shouldn’t have mentioned Shelly. That was a low blow.”
“Shelly would not like her behavior tonight,” Hans pointed out. “But if Shelly were still alive, Elsa would not be acting this way. She’s angry all the time. When one of her friends mentions she did this or that activity together with her mom, you should see Elsa’s face.”
Mike groaned. “I can’t fix that.”
“Of course not.”
“I just . . .” Mike rubbed his temples. “There’s no way for her to understand.”
“That her mother is gone?”
“Yeah. And that I’m going to get on with my life eventually.” Maybe soon. “She’s going to hate it.” Shit. He was still breaking hearts. It was never ending.
“I think you’re wrong,” Hans said slowly.
“Join the club.”
The other man chuckled. “No—I think she can understand a lot. She’s fighting you because she’s afraid of more change. But not all change is bad.”
“There’s going to be more change,” Mike admitted to himself as well as Hans. “A lot more.”
“I hope the hinges on her bedroom door are strong.”
Mike grinned into the bottle in his hand. “Let’s keep the beer stocked. We’re going to need it.”
TWENTY-FOUR
The following night, in a burst of optimism, Lauren went to watch Mike try to shut out Detroit in game four. She didn’t need a ticket. Her team credentials got her all the way into Nate’s box—voluntarily this time. Neither Ari nor Georgia so much as raised an eyebrow.
Even though it was empty, Lauren didn’t take the seat beside Nate, though. She was too nervous. Pacing back and forth near the cheese puffs was more her speed.
“Glass of wine?” Georgia asked. “You look like you could use one.”
She almost said yes, before remembering why she couldn’t. “No, thanks. Too nervous.”
“More for me! Tommy is handling the press conference tonight, so I can be the tipsy publicist.”
When the game was still scoreless at the end of the second period, Lauren let out a loud groan. “I think I’ve aged a decade in these two periods.”
“Honestly,” Ari agreed. “Civilizations have risen and fallen since the puck dropped. It’s torture.”
Nate, as usual, sat stoically in his seat, eyes affixed to the ice.
Lauren noticed that Rebecca was not present tonight, and she wondered why that was.
When Nate got up to refill his glass of Diet Coke, he gave her a Nate smirk. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Look who remembered she’s a hockey fan?”
“Don’t be smug,” she grumbled. “I’m here in an official capacity.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How so?”
“I’m here to remind you not to be smug.”
Georgia giggled.
And that was the last moment of levity that evening. The game ground on, scoreless through the third period. After the Zamboni cleared the ice one more time, Lauren watched her boys come back on for the overtime period. They looked tired, but determined.
So did Detroit.
Lauren fidgeted as play began again. She chewed ice cubes and rocked on her heels. Her eyes were dry from staring so long at the rink.
Overtime periods weren’t like regular periods, though—they were played with the sudden death rule. A goal ended the game. So one moment Lauren was watching Trevi try to get the puck away from his opponent, who passed it behind his body. One second later another opponent was flying toward Mike with the puck, unguarded on a breakaway. She saw Mike look for the deke and make his choice, positioning his body toward the left.
Then the puck flew right past his right shoulder and into the net.