CHAPTER TEN
By the time Wednesday’s sun rose on the cold, clear morning, Bristol was pulling Hope’s pecan pie out of the oven and swapping it out for the stuffing she’d prepped.
She was on-call downstairs if things got busy, but she was sure Edwin and Maya could handle themselves. Thanksgiving Eve wasn’t a big day for Early Bird, but Black Friday was a different story. In the past, she’d dragged Hope out of bed to help with the rush, but that tradition was no longer possible.
Bristol studied the pie and felt the inevitable wave of sadness roll over her.
Thanksgiving, Savannah and Vince’s wedding, the first of many happy occasions that they would spend missing Hope. She’d yet to hear back from the recipient of Hope’s heart and at this point didn’t expect to. It had been a crazy whim, wanting Hope’s heart to be there when Savannah walked down the aisle.
Bristol bit her lip and stared at the pie. She picked up her phone, dialed.
“Hi, honey.” Her mom’s voice sounded tired and sad. Not at all usual for Mary Quinn, the original early riser. But a mother preparing for a family feast minus one was entitled.
“Hi, Mom,” Bristol responded in the same heavy tone. “I made Hope’s pie.”
“Oh, honey.”
That was the thing about her mom. As a romantic, temperamental Italian, the woman got things with very little context.
“I haven’t cried in a while, but looking at this pie makes me want to cry while I throw it against a wall.”
“I’ve already poured a glass of wine this morning,” Mary confessed.
“Mother!” Bristol said in mock horror.
“What? I put it in a coffee mug.”
It wasn’t a bad idea. Bristol dug out the remains of the bottle of wine that Beau had brought two nights ago. There was a stingy glass left. She poured it into the World’s Best Almost Doctor mug she’d gotten Hope.
“No judgment here, Mom. In fact, I’m joining you.”
“There’s my girl.”
“Now, I need you to impart some motherly wisdom on me,” Bristol announced. “When is this going to get easier?”
“Hell if I know,” her librarian mother sighed. “When you’re a parent, you know that bad things can happen. That’s why all mothers are insane. We live with the constant fear that something might happen to our kids. But nothing, no amount of fear or precautions, can prepare you for the reality of losing a child.”
Bristol wiped away a silent tear with a dishtowel.
“I witnessed every moment of Hope’s life. Every smile, every tear, every award, every sarcastic comment about my cooking. And now she’s gone.”
Bristol heard her mom blow her nose noisily.
“How do you get it to stop hurting?” Bristol sniffled, then sipped.
“You put a Band-Aid on it, and you think about those lives that Hope saved. That’s what I do. I think about every person who gets another Thanksgiving with their families because of her, and I’m so grateful that Hope gave them that.”
Bristol heaved another sigh, took another sip of wine. “What can I do to help?” she asked.
“Bring your pie, your stuffing, and your game face. I want your father and Vanna to have a good day.”
“How much booze are you planning to serve?”
“As much as it takes.”
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Beau had himself an honest to goodness case of game day nerves. Though it had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with the “after.” He’d done nothing for the last two days but think about that kiss. She’d been clear about what she was offering and crystal clear last night.
Violet had tagged along with Bristol to their evening lesson, so there hadn’t been an opportunity for a repeat good-bye kiss. But after Violet was tucked into the backseat and the door closed soundly, Bristol had invited him to her apartment. Tonight. She hadn’t even said for dinner. In a longstanding Quinn tradition, Violet would be spending the night at her grandparents’ after the game. And he would be welcome to spend the night at Bristol’s.
His nerves were reaching Stanley Cup proportions.
There was just one small snag. Bristol thought he was Beau French, yoga instructor, not Beau Evanko, retired hockey player.
There was no way he could take her to bed under that pretense. He’d never lied to get a woman into bed, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now, not with her.
He pushed through the glass door of the rink, and everything immediately evened out. The cold, the smell of the ice—no matter where he was, walking into a rink was like coming home.
He spotted Justin Barnes, Noah’s older brother, in the crowd and waved. Behind the Polar Bears’ bench, he spotted an older couple that he recognized as Bristol’s parents. He wondered guiltily if they knew what their daughter’s plans were for the evening. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a girl’s parents.
Bristol was there, fortifying the early arrivals with juice boxes and crackers. She was dressed in jeans, a thermal shirt, and thick navy blue vest. Her waterfall of rich brown hair spilled out of a cute wool hat. He felt that punch in his gut when she laughed at something one of the kids said to her. The want that he felt in that moment went deeper than just sex. He’d be happy to see that smile on that face for the rest of his life.
When she spotted him, her face lit up like he was her personal hero riding to her rescue, and Beau knew then and there that he’d do anything he could to make her look at him that way forever.
It was going to have to be one hell of an explanation.
Beau pushed it aside as the kids called out greetings. Their enthusiasm gave him hope that maybe a good game would pave the way to an accepted apology.
“Hey, guys,” he said in greeting.
“Coach Beau!” A boy with a Sponge Bob Band-Aid on his jaw skated up. “Louisa forgot her shoulder pads, an’ her dad went home to get them.”
“Cool,” Beau said. With his job as chief information officer fulfilled, Sponge Bob skated off.
“Louisa’s our goalie, and Tucker plays something close to our goal,” Bristol said, sliding up next him. “And I am so glad to see you.”
“I thought you were just happy not to be in skates.”
“Cute.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he said stroking a hand through his beard and preening.
Bristol shook her head and stared out on the ice where the team warm-up consisted of seeing who could slide the farthest on their knees. She was nervous, and he found that adorable.
“You’re going to do fine,” he assured her.
“I just really don’t want to screw this up for Violet.”
“You’re not going to screw this up. I won’t let you,” he promised.
“Thanks, Beau.” She was looking at him with so much hope, so much gratitude, that he felt the guilt lodge back into place like an iceberg easing into the pit of his stomach. She arched an eyebrow then. “You’re still coming over tonight, right?”
He cleared his throat trying to dislodge the guilt that had settled there. “If you still want me to.”
“Oh, I still want you,” she grinned.
Their gazes held for a long moment before he forced himself to look away. “Come on. Let’s go coach a hockey team.”
They ran the Polar Bears through a warm-up on the ice, and Beau hid his smile at Bristol’s pep talk, an attempt to manage the team’s expectations.
“We’re here to have a good time. Remember that. We want to go out there, have fun, and do our best. You never have to be sorry for doing your best.”
The kids looked back at her expectantly.
“What do they want?” she whispered to Beau.
“They want to know the lineup.”
“Oh, crap. I didn’t do a lineup!” she hissed.
“Relax.” Beau handed her a clipboard. “It’s all here. All three periods, plus substitutions.”
She stared down at the papers and then back up at him. “You are my hero. You’re my knight on shining ice skates.”
God, he hoped she could hold onto that feeling later tonight.
Beau leaned over her. “This is the position, and the kid at the top of the list is the starter.”
Bristol laughed. “Braces, Freckles, Short One, Never Shuts Up, and Violet?”
“I didn’t catch all their names at practice the other day,” he admitted sheepishly.
“That’s okay, I think I can figure these out.” Bristol said with a wink. “I’m so going to make this worth your while tonight.”
The promise electrified the air between them, and as Beau’s cock went raging hard, he was pleased with the length of the coat that he chose that day.
“Gorgeous, you’ve got to stop looking at me like that or else we’re going to end up emotionally scarring several generations of Hope Falls residents,” he breathed.
She blushed, and when she peeked up at him again, Beau caught the flash of dimple.
“Okay, Polar Bears, listen up…”
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The Longbottom Frozen Zombies—they’d let the kids choose the name— was a brand new team and closely matched the Polar Bears in ability… or lack thereof.
Bristol shuffled through her papers. “Okay, Lenny, you’re going to sub in for Valerie at—” she consulted the paper again. “Right defenseman. Do you know what to do?”
Lenny shrugged his shoulders and wrinkled his freckled nose. “Keep the Zombies from scoring?” he guessed.
Bristol flipped back to the handy position dictionary Beau had written for her. “Pretty much, yep.”
“’K.”
She looked back at the action on the ice. The first period went mercifully scoreless, though not for lack of trying on the Zombies’ part. They had dominated the ice but thankfully had terrible aim when it came to shots on goal.
Louisa had deflected the handful of shots that had actually angled toward the net and made Bristol feel like the girl wasn’t in the entirely wrong position like the rest of the team. The best thing she could say about the Polar Bears was they weren’t falling down as much this period.
Beau watched the action at her side.
Suddenly the Zombies made a breakaway down the ice. The little boy with the puck couldn’t have been more than six years old, and Bristol winced when, for no apparent reason, his feet got tangled up, and he face-planted on the ice. The girl behind him skirted around his prone body like a roller derby queen and picked up the puck.
Violet and another Bear gave chase, but the Zombie, with her pigtails and fierce freckled face, zoomed toward the net.
Bristol covered her eyes and peeked through her gloves. The girl took a swing at the puck and missed, but as the crowd released a sigh of relief, she recovered and dinked it into the back of the net.
“Crap,” Bristol muttered. She set the good sportsman example by applauding politely for the other team as the players returned to center ice. “Good job, guys,” she said lamely.
The Zombies put two more in the net before the end of the second period, and it was a dejected pack of Polar Bears that skated off the ice.
Violet stepped into the box and slumped down on the bench. Not even Pops’ funny faces against the glass could cheer her up.
“What do I do?” Bristol asked Beau in desperation.
He grabbed the clipboard out of her hand and ripped up the lineup. “Got a pen?”
She fished one out of her purse and handed it over, watching him scribble away.
“Okay, Polar Bears!”
Beau’s rousing shout had Bristol jumping out of her skin.
“We’re getting beat now, but that’s okay because we were hibernating, and now we’re awake and we’re hungry!” he announced with the enthusiasm of a Japanese game show host.
The kids stared at him blankly.
“Who’s hungry?” Beau yelled.
“Uh, me. I am,” Bristol announced, raising her hand slowly. “I am hungry.”
“Coach Quinn and I are hungry!” Beau roared. “Who else is hungry?”
“I’m hungry!” Violet raised her hand enthusiastically.
Bristol was fairly certain Violet was being literal, but it was nice to see her getting into the spirit.
“Me, too,” Noah piped up. “Got any more crackers?”
“We don’t need crackers,” Beau shouted. “We eat Zombies!”
That got the rest of the team going. In seconds, he had the entire team on their feet chanting, “We’re hungry!”
He was a natural leader and, with his contagious enthusiasm, had the Bears fans on their feet joining the chant. She was staring at a gorgeous Apollo of a man working a bunch of kids into a competitive frenzy, and she couldn’t stop smiling. She glanced over her shoulder at her parents and Savannah wildly cheering. Savannah nodded in Beau’s direction, and Bristol nodded back. A sly, approving smile spread across her sister’s face.
“Okay! We’re gonna go out there, and we’re going to eat some Zombies! And then after the game, we’re going for ice cream or the reasonable equivalent if Hope Falls doesn’t have an ice cream place,” Beau announced. “Who’s with me?”
“Me!” the team screeched in pandemonium.
“Good! Now Coach Quinn and I are making some changes to the lineup. Huddle up!” They huddled around Beau as he handed out new assignments before they took the ice with newfound enthusiasm.
Bristol watched Violet skate to right wing and felt a fresh flutter of parental nerves rise up in her belly.
“Beau are you sure she should be up there?”
“Are you asking as an overprotective mother or a coach who doesn’t want to be showing favoritism?”
“Oh, God. Both?”
He slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Trust me, okay?”
“Well, you’ve never let me down before in the history of our acquaintance,” she joked.
She saw the shadow that passed over his face, but the referee was blowing her whistle, and the action started again.
The hungry Bears had obviously come to play this period. Tucker snatched the puck away from the Zombies’ offense and, with an unintentional but enthusiastic ricochet, fed it up toward Violet. Vi skated along the boards at full bore after the puck, and the crowd cheered when she got her stick on it.
But the cheers were short-lived. A Zombie ran into Violet at half speed, and together they went down in a tangle of sticks and limbs.
The fans “oohed” their disappointment… or sympathy. Bristol wasn’t sure which was which.
Violet regained her feet and threw a cheery wave in Bristol’s direction, which she returned weakly. Five minutes into the period, the Polar Bear fans were on their feet again. Noah had chugged his way up the ice unchallenged and was lining up a shot on goal. A Zombie defensive player appeared out of nowhere and scrambled for the puck.
In the clumsy exchange, the puck escaped through the player’s legs and slowly slid toward Violet.
“Take the shot, short stack!” Beau’s voice carried across the ice, and Bristol saw the determined set of Violet’s shoulders.
“Oh, crap. Oh, crap,” Bristol whispered.
Violet drew her stick up and back and let it fly. The puck sailed into the back of the net, and Bristol screamed along with the rest of the crowd. Violet turned around and stared at the bench in shock before she was mauled by all the Bears on the ice. The crowd was on its feet, and Bristol, in the heat of the moment, threw her arms around Beau’s neck.
He picked her up and spun her around while the crowd continued to cheer. Bristol waved to her parents who were on their feet jumping for joy.
“Vi-o-let! Vi-o-let!”
Bristol’s eyes welled up. “They’re cheering her name.” She just wanted them all to bask in the moment of pure joy, their first in so long. “My baby scored the first goal of the season, and they’re cheering her name.”
“Way to go, Coach,” Beau said against her ear, his beard tickling her neck.
“This was all you,” she grinned. “I’m buying you ice cream.”
“With hot fudge?” he asked, lowering her to her feet.
Bristol gave him a wink. “But not too hot. I don’t want it to burn my skin.” She enjoyed watching the realization wash over him and then a primal heat light up those green eyes.
“Remind me not to operate heavy machinery around you,” he said, quietly. “The persistent loss of blood flow to my brain is probably dangerous.”
“Do we really have to be there for ice cream? Can’t we just give Louisa the credit card and say ‘have at it’?” Bristol wondered.
Beau’s smile held all the dark promises of a night she wouldn’t soon forget, and she felt her own blood jump to simmering.
“I think there would be talk if we didn’t show up. The town might send out a search party and imagine what they’d walk in on,” he teased.
Bristol laughed, flushing at the thought. Tonight, she was taking Beau to bed, and she just might find a few missing pieces to herself in the whole enjoyable process. The anticipation was waking something inside her, something she thought had disappeared long ago.