Chapter Twenty-Two

The noise surrounding them was growing louder as more and more people made their way into the arena, filling seats that had been empty ten minutes ago. Savannah's gaze swept the area around her, taking everything in as she sipped fountain soda from a straw. This was her second hockey game, ever, and so completely different from her first that she wasn't sure what to make of it.

For starters, she was sitting in a different section, just a few rows behind the bench where the players would be when they came out. She knew that because Courtney had told her as much.

And Tessa wasn't here tonight, either, so she felt even more out of place, like she was by herself. How silly was that? To feel that way when she was surrounded by all these people.

Because she most definitely wasn't by herself. Courtney was in the row in front of her, little Noah climbing from her lap to his seat and back again. Three other women sat with Courtney: Haley, Megan, and Jenny. She'd been officially introduced as each woman settled down. Four women, all of them so completely different from each other but still friends because of the men they dated. Or, in Courtney and Jenny's cases, married.

It felt a little weird, sitting behind them the way she was. Like she didn't quite belong. Not that they ignored her—they each turned in their seats, trying to draw her into the conversation, trying to make her feel welcome.

And if she was honest with herself, she didn't feel out of place because of the women in front of her.

It was because of the two girls sitting on either side of her.

She turned her head, studying each one for a brief second as she tried to figure out how she had ended up here. Aaron had invited her to the game tonight, a week after their first official date. It was supposed to be Savannah, his two daughters, and his mother.

Except his mother had succumbed to the same flu bug that had knocked Savannah on her ass a few weeks ago and wasn't able to make it. If she had thought, for even a fraction of a second, that she'd be here with the girls by herself, she would have taken Aaron up on his offer of that extra ticket for Tessa.

But she hadn't, and Tessa had already made plans for tonight, refusing to cancel no matter how many times Savannah begged and pleaded. So here she sat, between Isabelle and Brooke, feeling out of place and oddly alone.

Both girls were wearing Bombers jerseys, with Aaron's last name—their name—in big block letters on the back, above the number 15. Brooke had rolled her eyes when Savannah asked what the number was, then explained it was Aaron's number.

Duh.

Duh, indeed.

The girls weren't the only ones wearing jerseys. The women in front of her had them on, too, only with different names and numbers on the back. So did little Noah. A lot of people in the arena were wearing them.

Savannah had felt out of place enough that she had asked Courtney to keep an eye on the girls then dashed out to the concourse and purchased an oversized hooded sweatshirt with the Bombers logo on the front. She wasn't sure what made her do it, but she bought a jersey, too, with the name MALONE on the back in block letters above the number 15. The jersey was rolled into a tight ball and double-bagged, sitting under her seat.

No way was she going to put it on, not with the girls right there. She didn't want to subject herself to their questioning looks, didn't want to risk Brooke saying something sarcastic or scathing. She hadn't forgotten that one encounter with the girl, when Brooke had told her quite plainly that Aaron would never love her and she should just leave.

Did Brooke remember that conversation from a little more than a month ago? If she did, she didn't act like it. And she had actually been nice so far, for the most part—except for that whole duh thing, which Savannah figured she had deserved.

Savannah wasn't going to risk changing that by putting on Aaron's jersey.

Which made her wonder why she had bought it in the first place.

Jenny turned in her seat, glancing at Savannah then leaning closer so everyone could hear her. "Does anyone else have one of those feelings about tonight?"

"Yes."

"No."

Haley and Megan both spoke at the same time, contradicting each other. Courtney glanced at Noah then turned to Jenny, a frown creasing her face. "I refuse to think about it. And if it even looks like something is going to happen, I'm taking Noah out to the concourse. He doesn't need to see that again."

Savannah glanced at the two girls, but they looked as confused as she did. "See what? Is something supposed to happen?"

Haley brushed her long hair over one shoulder and turned to look at Savannah. "I hope not. But from the way Zach was acting before he left this afternoon, I'm not sure."

"Tyler was the same way. Acting like some macho prizefighter on the way to the ring. I told him not to even think about it."

"Do you think it worked?"

Jenny's mouth curled in a wide, mischievous smile. "Nope."

"OhmyGod, you're actually enjoying this, aren't you? You're hoping something happens!" That had come from Megan, who Savannah had learned was dating Jenny's brother. The two women seemed close, which was odd because Aaron had told her that the men they were each seeing had come close to blows a few times already.

Savannah didn't waste time trying to figure out whatever weird interpersonal dynamics were being played. "What am I missing?"

Courtney grabbed the back of Noah's pants, holding him in place as she answered. "They're playing Bridgeport tonight."

She looked as if that explained everything. In fact, all four women looked like that was answer enough. To them, it probably was, but Savannah was clueless. "I don't get it. What's that mean?"

Jenny twisted in her seat, bracing her arms along the back of the chair. "The last time we played Bridgeport, there was a huge brawl on the ice. Gear was thrown everywhere, fists were flying. It was a bloodbath."

"A bloodbath?"

Megan nudged Jenny in the side. "Don't look so happy. The whole thing happened because Tyler was defending your honor."

"Why shouldn't I be happy about that? Viktor had it coming." Jenny turned back to Savannah. "I used to, um—" Her gaze darted to the girls then quickly looked away. "—date one of the guys that plays for Bridgeport. He started running his mouth and things just got a little out of hand from there."

Haley laughed. "A little? That's one way to put it."

"You weren't even here!" A second passed before Jenny's smile died. The color drained from her face, and she leaned around Megan to put her hand on Haley's shoulder. "Oh God, I am so sorry. I wasn't even thinking—"

"Oh please. Stop. You're as bad as Zach. I'm over it already."

"Then you're stronger than me because I don't think I'd ever get over it. What Jimmy did to you—"

Haley cleared her throat, the noise long and loud and exaggerated. Her green eyes darted a meaningful look at the girls sitting on either side of Savannah before she gave her head a quick shake. Jenny sat back, biting her lower lip as color rose in her cheeks.

Courtney must have seen Savannah's confusion—and her curiosity—because she reached back and gave her leg a quick pat. "Let's just say that night was filled with more excitement than any of us needed and leave it at that."

Savannah wanted to ask for details, knowing she had missed so much, but she couldn't. And not just because the girls were sitting there. The lights dimmed and music blared from the arena loudspeakers. Spotlights lit up the ice, swirling back and forth in a crazy pattern as an announcer's deep voice boomed around them.

Everyone jumped to their feet as the players came out to the ice, skating around for a few minutes before lining up for the anthem. And then the game started, an explosion of action and noise.

Not five minutes had passed, and Savannah could already tell that something was different from the last game she'd attended. The last game had been fast, filled with action and excitement.

This game was just as fast, but there was something else going on. Some kind of tension that even she could feel. She knew she wasn't imagining it because the women in front of her seemed nervous, too. Antsy. Even Isabelle and Brooke could sense it. Isabelle's hand had grabbed Savannah's arm once or twice already, both times when Aaron had been hit. And Brooke had jumped, moving a little closer to Savannah when some guy slammed Aaron from behind and sent him sprawling to the ice.

It was brutal, the hits and taunts that she could hear even from where they were sitting. There had been a break in the game and some guy in orange and blue was led to another bench across the ice. Savannah jumped when the sound of the slamming door echoed around the arena. Now both teams were lining up at the other end of the ice, away from Bombers' net.

Courtney leaned back, her attention divided between the ice, Noah, and Savannah. "We're on the power play, so we have one more player on the ice than Bridgeport."

"Is that good?"

"For us, yeah." Jenny answered the question instead of Courtney. "We just need to capitalize on the man-advantage. And crap. Shit, shit, shit."

"What? What is it?" Savannah looked at the ice but the only person moving was some big guy from the other team, who was skating toward the other players down by the net.

"They just put Viktor in for the penalty kill. He's not known for his speed or endurance, which means there's only one reason they'd use him right away."

"Why?"

"To get physical."

Savannah stared at the ice, wishing she understood the game better, wishing she knew what Jenny was talking about—especially when the guy stopped right in front of Aaron.

She leaned closer, ready to ask, but then the ice exploded with action. Savannah narrowed her eyes, trying to see every detail, wondering if she should look at the giant screen hanging above the ice instead. But she couldn't take her eyes off the action, afraid to even blink in case she missed something.

She saw someone pass the puck to Aaron, watched as he caught it and did some kind of graceful slide-twist-spin move on his skates. The crowd surged to their feet, clapping and cheering as he skated behind the net. A hand gripped hers, squeezing. Not Isabelle—Brooke. Savannah didn't take the time to wonder what it meant, she couldn't, not when she was so focused on the game. She simply squeezed the girl's hand in return, her breath held, certain that Aaron was going to shoot the puck into the net.

And then she saw a flash of orange and blue, hurtling like some kind of rocket straight toward Aaron. She opened her mouth, wanting to scream his name, needing to warn him, but it was too late.

There was a sickening thud as the orange blur collided with Aaron, knocking him flat on his back. The other player landed on top of him and they both slid across the ice, coming to a sudden stop as they slammed against the half-wall bordering the ice with a loud thud. The player who had knocked Aaron down jumped to his feet and made a mad scramble for the puck, dashing away from the net. But Aaron didn't move. He just lay there, deathly still, his back wedged against the wall, his arms outstretched.

Brooke's hand tightened around hers. Isabelle grabbed her around the waist, clinging to her.

"Daddy!"

Savannah didn't know who said it. Isabelle. Brooke. Maybe both. She wanted to reassure them, know she needed to tell them that Aaron was fine, that he'd back on his feet any second, but she couldn't get the words from her mouth.

Because he wasn't fine, and he wasn't getting back to his feet. The noise around them slowly died, fading to an eerie silence. A whistle blew somewhere, the sound too sharp, too loud. Several of Aaron's teammates knelt by his side. Two more helped some man shuffle across the ice. More people headed toward him, carrying large tackle boxes.

And all the while, people looked on in silence. The only sounds Savannah could hear were Isabelle's sobs—and Brooke's plaintive whisper, repeated over and over in desperation.

A whisper Savannah knew Aaron couldn't hear.

"Daddy!"