Sammie spun in a semi-circle, her feet gliding effortlessly across the ice as she skated backward. She crouched low, the blade of her stick snug against the ice as she waved it back and forth. Taylor feinted to the left then lunged to the right but Sammie had been expecting that move. She stuck with Taylor, reached out with her stick, and jabbed at the puck. She held her breath, waiting to see the puck dash free. But it didn't.

Sammie swallowed a curse and lunged for the puck once more. The blade of her left skate got caught in a gouge in the ice, throwing her off balance and kicking her leg out from under her. She stumbled, tried to catch herself, then hit the ice on her backside and kept sliding.

She came to a stop near the net, seconds before Taylor shot the puck. It tipped off Shannon's glove then plopped to the ice behind her. Sammie dropped her head with a groan then just lay there, her chest heaving with each breath.

"You okay?" Taylor came to a stop next to her then reached down and offered her a hand. Sammie ignored it as she rolled onto her stomach and pushed to her feet.

"Yeah. Stupid move. Totally stupid. I should have had that." Sammie removed her helmet then ran one gloved hand over her head.

"You and me both." Shannon skated out of the net then tapped Taylor against the leg with her stick. "That was a weak-ass shot, LeBlanc."

"Yeah. I pulled back too quick. Which means you should have really had it."

"What can I say? I was too busy watching Reigler here to make sure she didn't plow into me."

"I wasn't even close to plowing into you."

"Sure you were. That's as good an excuse as any, right?"

Sammie ignored both her teammates and turned to study the gouge that had tripped her up. "I thought they said they were going to fix the ice."

"They did. Two weeks ago, anyway. I don't think they realize how tore up it gets with everyone that uses it." Taylor nudged her helmet up then wiped a hand across her sweaty face. "It would be nice to have our own ice, wouldn't it?"

"Don't hold your breath. I don't think that's ever going to happen."

"Well, it should. I mean, you don't see the Banners sharing their ice with anyone, do you?"

"No. But we're not exactly drawing in the same kind of crowds, are we?" Disappointment laced Sammie's words, the same disappointment she knew every single one of her teammates felt. Game attendance was still below expectations, and there was still the fear that the entire league would go under. Yes, it was only their first year. Yes, the season had just started a little more than a month ago. Yes, they still had time to build up that excitement.

Maybe.

It sounded good in theory, but the reality was a bit different. They were fighting an uphill battle, trying to overcome obstacles that no men's team had ever had.

Sammie wanted to believe they were succeeding but deep down, she couldn't help but have her doubts. Her normal optimism was being challenged every day. Every week. Every game.

Or maybe her change of mood had more to do with Sunday night. She was still reeling from it, still trying to convince herself she had only imagined it.

"Hey. Earth to Sammie. Wake up."

Sammie shook her head then blinked, surprised to see Shannon waving her hand in front of her face. She blinked again then realized Taylor and Shannon were both staring at her, like they'd been trying to get her attention for several minutes.

"Are you okay? You seem out of it or something."

"Yeah. Fine."

"Are you sure? Because—"

"My ex-husband stopped by the house Sunday night." And holy crappola, she hadn't meant to tell them that. She hadn't meant to tell anyone that.

And from the expressions on their faces, they hadn't been expecting to hear it. They exchanged quiet glances with each other then slid in closer, blocking any chance Sammie might have had to escape.

"Deets, Reigler."

"Yeah, seriously. What happened?"

"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh no. No way." Shannon moved even closer and wrapped one hand around Sammie's arm to keep her in place. "You can't just drop that fucking bombshell and think you can leave. Not happening."

Sammie opened her mouth to say she could do just that then snapped it shut again. She hadn't meant to say anything, hadn't realized those words were even thinking about coming out—not that words could actually think but still…

Maybe it was her subconscious working. Maybe she wanted to talk about it. Or needed to talk about it. If that were the case, it would have to be with the two women in front of her, staring at her like she had just lost her mind.

She blew out a heavy sigh then glanced around. Practice was almost over, and then she had to do that crazy interview she had agreed to. If she were going to talk about it—about Jon—then now would be the only time.

Unless she could find some excuse to stall them until next practice. Or maybe before Saturday's game. Or maybe after Saturday's game or even—

No, none of that would work, not with the way Shannon and Taylor were watching her—like they were expecting her to make up some kind of excuse. Like they were ready to tackle her if she tried to make a mad dash for freedom. That's something both of the women would definitely do.

Sammie took another deep breath, held it, then slowly released it. She kept her gaze averted, staring at the toes of her skates. "There's really nothing to say. He just showed up. And then he left."

"So what happened in between that you're not telling us?"

"Nothing. Honest." Sammie looked at both women then held up three fingers of her left hand. "I swear it."

Taylor frowned, shared a quiet look with Shannon, then shook her head. "So he, what? Knocked on your door then turned around and left? Without saying squat?"

"Well, no."

"Then what? What did he say? What did he do? Did you beat his no-good ass then throw him out?"

"No." Sammie remembered the feel of his chest beneath her hands. Hard. Broad. Solid. Warm. And oh Lord, why were her palms tingling with the memory? Why was she even remembering? She had forgotten how big Jon was, how her petite frame had always seemed so much smaller than it really was next to him.

How protected she always felt in his arms.

Stop it. Now. Just stop.

The last thing she needed to do was remember how it used to be. She needed to focus on what he'd done. How much he'd hurt her.

How he'd just left her—left both of them—with no warning. No explanation.

Sammie gave herself a mental shake. "No, I didn't beat him up or throw him out. My dad almost did, though."

"What do you mean, almost?"

"I—I wouldn't let him. I went outside to talk to him instead."

"Okay. And then what? What did he say?"

"Nothing really."

Taylor threw her hands up and made a soft growl of frustration. "OhmyGod, getting a story out of you is like pulling teeth. What happened? What did he say?"

"That's just it. He didn't say much of anything."

"Then why was he there? What did he want? What's he even doing back in Maryland? I thought you said he was living out of state. On the west coast or something."

"I don't know. I—I just told him I didn't want to see him again and that was it."

"So you don't even know why he was there?"

"No."

"And you didn't even ask him to explain himself? Didn't demand he tell you why he did what he did?"

"No. I just told him to leave us alone."

Shannon and Taylor exchanged another look, this one even longer. Taylor shook her head then turned back to Sammie. "What about Clare? Did he even get to see her?"

Sammie blinked against the sudden burning in her eyes and shook her head. "He, uh, he didn't even ask about her." And God, admitting that hurt. Remembering it hurt. His own daughter! And he hadn't even asked about her. Had acted like he'd forgotten all about her. But that couldn't be true. It just couldn't.

Or maybe it could. Maybe the Jon she remembered no longer existed. Or maybe—even after the last two years, after everything he'd done—she was still foolish enough to make excuses for him and harbor a tiny bit of hope, foolish enough to think there must have been some reason for him to do what he did.

Sammie couldn't afford to do that, not anymore. And she couldn't allow herself to hope—her hope had died the day she received the divorce papers.

"He seriously didn't ask about her? At all?"

"Not a word, no."

Shannon frowned, her gaze moving between Sammie and Taylor. "He, uh, he does know about her, right? I mean, I don't know all the details so—"

"Yes, he knows about her." Sammie glanced down at her hand, saw the way her knuckles turned white from the grip she had on her stick. She loosened her fingers and forced a smile to her face. "She was three months old when he deployed. I remember how—"

Sammie's voice cracked and she shook her head, trying to shake the memory of the way his eyes had teared up as he held Clare in his arms. How small she had looked, how precious, with her adorable baby-grin as she looked up at her father.

Not knowing he was leaving.

Not knowing he was never coming back. Not for her.

Not for either one of them.

"Did you, uh, say anything about that? Ask him why?"

"What?" Sammie looked up, shook her head. "No. Of course not. Like I said, I just told him to leave us—me—alone."

Taylor watched her for a long minute, her whiskey-colored eyes seeing too much. "And you think that's really going to work?"

"Yeah." Sammie cleared her throat and tried to make her voice stronger. "Yes. I do."

"You don't sound too sure of that."

"Of course, I'm sure. I told him, didn't I?"

"And you think he's going to listen to you? I mean, come on, Reigs. The man shows up at your place out of fucking nowhere. He was obviously there for a reason but you didn't let him tell you why. You think he's just going to go back into whatever cesspool of hell he crawled out of because you said so?"

"I think Shannon's right. I don't think he's just going to listen."

"Well, I think you're both wrong. I haven't seen or heard from him in over two years. I don't think that's going to change."

"Except it already has, hasn't it?"

"One time. And I told him I didn't want to see him again."

Shannon studied her, those light brown eyes too serious and completely unreadable. Then she made a small sound, not quite a laugh, and shook her head. "I think you're lying to yourself."

"I'm not—"

"I think you are. About both things."

"Both things? What are you talking about?"

"About him listening to you." Shannon lifted her stick and tapped Sammie on the back of her leg with it. "And about not wanting to see him again."

"That is so far from the truth—"

"Is it?"

"Yes. It is. It really, really is. After what he did to me? To Clare? No. Seeing him again is the last thing I want." Sammie watched both women, silently daring them to contradict her. She was telling the truth. She didn't want to see Jon again. Ever. Not even to ask him what happened. She didn't care. Not anymore.

Even if she hadn't been able to stop thinking about his visit. Or about how he had looked—the same, but different. More intense. Harder. Not just his body, but him. Like something inside him had changed.

No. No, no, no. She had to stop thinking about him like that. She had to stop thinking about him, period. She didn't care. She really, really didn't. He'd just caught her off guard, that was all.

No, she absolutely didn't want to see him again—not even to ask him what had happened. To ask him why. Why had he done what he did? Why had he left them that way?

"Reigler!"

Sammie snapped out of her stupor and looked across the ice to Coach Reynolds. The woman hooked a thumb over her shoulder, pointing in the direction of the glass.

"Time for your interview. Get a move on."

Sammie pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a rush, forcing all thoughts and memories of her ex-husband from her mind—or, at least, trying to. "Oh, great. I don't think I can do this."

"Sure you can. You'll be great at it."

"No, I really don't think I can. I'm going to sound stupid."

"No, you're not." Taylor spun her around and started pushing her across the ice. "Trust me, it'll be easy. And it's not like it could be anywhere near as bad as my whole interview."

"Oh, crappola. Did you really have to remind me of that?"

A local news station had sent a reporter and camera crew out before the start of the season to run a feature on Taylor and her step-dad and her uncle—both men had ties to the Baltimore Banners. Chuck Dawson, the PR Director for the Blades, had thought it would be a good way to build excitement. The entire thing had pretty much backfired, with the reporter giving her negative opinions on the team and their chances of succeeding.

"Honestly, you really didn't have to remind me."

"Oh stop. You'll be fine." Taylor kept guiding Sammie toward the door as Shannon moved around them to swing it open. The goalie whacked Sammie on the backside, a little harder than she usually did.

"Go get 'em, Reigs. And try not to think about how much you have to pee while they're interviewing you."

Sammie stumbled to a stop and turned toward Shannon with an expression of horror on her face. "Why? Why would you even say that?"

"Yeah, Shannon. That's cruel. Just cruel." But Taylor was laughing, the words coming out in breathy little gasps with each chuckle. "Now that's all she's going to be thinking about."

Sammie scowled at both of them then stepped off the ice and headed toward the two young women standing next to Chuck. She knew exactly what Shannon had been doing: trying to get her mind off her ex-husband. But it didn't work, not really.

Because she was still thinking about him. About his unexpected visit.

About a pair of dark eyes she couldn't seem to stop remembering.

Dark. Intense.

And haunted. So haunted.