Frozen Hearts (4 page)

One hour later, Marshy was pleased that the two greasy cheeseburgers and huge plate of fries he'd eaten had cured his hangover. It also helped that we'd downed two pitchers of cheap beer. The ache in my face and throat were now a dull throb. A few more drinks and the pain would be nothing but a memory, as long as I didn't look in the mirror when washing my hands after taking a piss, I didn't have to think about it.

"So," Dix said. "What the fuck are ya going to do, Foxy?"

"Finish school," I said.

"I figured that out," he said, sneering at me. "After graduation."

"Get a job, I suppose, or go to grad school. I haven't thought that far ahead."

"That's so boring," Marshy slurred.

"I think I need a little boring," I said. "Boring might be nice. My face can't take much more excitement."

"Boring is fucking boring," Dix said.

I was about to point out what excitement had done to me, but the front door opened wide, filling the dingy bar with bright sunlight. We all leaned away from the light, like it would burn if it touched us. A woman stepped into the bar followed by another person.

"My puck bunny," Marshy shouted, almost overturning the table when he stood up.

Arielle wore her evil sister smile and I immediately knew she was up to something, which meant I was doomed. I sank down in my chair as the clock in my head started the countdown. The person behind her stepped forward and the clock in my head exploded into tiny little shards of plastic.

Tyce.

Every single muscle in my body seized up. My brain whisked me back in time and I was suddenly seventeen years old again, staring at my best friend, only he wasn't a skinny teenage boy anymore. His blond hair was longer and a little darker. If you put a hockey helmet on his head, his hair would poke out the holes and curl around the edge. I've been told good hockey hair drives women and even some boys batty. He was taller than Arielle, which meant he'd grown at least four inches. When we were boys, I towered over him, but now if I stood next to him I would only be about an inch taller. He had long, lean muscles and his jeans hung low on his slender hips. His blue eyes darted around the room, not focusing on anything until Arielle spoke. It wasn't only me who was uncomfortable. Tyce had been set up too. I began formulating murder scenarios for my lovely, dark-haired sister.

Hi guys, can we join you," Arielle asked. She avoided eye contact with me. Smart girl. "This is my friend, Tyce."

"Hey, I've seen you at the rink," Marshy said to Tyce as he held out his hand.

Tyce had been at the rink? I sat up straighter, but Tyce ignored Marshy's statement and shook his hand. I didn't know what to fucking do so I held out my hand and waited for the freeze out. A warm hand slid against my palm. Before I could register what was happening, he withdrew his hand, shoving it in his pocket. I slipped my hand under the table and stared at it. He had touched me without flinching.

"Shit, Erik," Arielle said. "Dad did this?"

She pushed my head to the side, exposing my throat.

"Ouch," I snapped and brushed her hand away from me. "It's nothing."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tyce shifting from foot to foot, finally mumbling something about getting more drinks. Marshy trailed after him talking a mile a minute.

"Fuck, Arielle," I growled at her.

"What?" she asked innocently.

Dix raised an eyebrow and I clamped my mouth shut, sinking back into my chair. She was dead. Marshy and Tyce showed up carrying a tray of shots along with two more pitchers of beer. Poor Lindy was going to get a phone call to come collect three very drunk hockey players before the day was over.

Arielle snickered and I took a huge gulp from my beer almost choking in the process. I peeked under the table to make sure I had the right target and kicked her in the shin. She flipped me off and rubbed her leg. Marshy sat down next to Dix, which left Tyce staring at the only open chair left at the table. He hesitated, glancing at Arielle. Shaking my hand was one thing, but actually sitting next to me was a different matter. A sick feeling, somewhere between an ache and food poisoning, welled up in my stomach. I deserved nothing less than Tyce's hate, but damn, it still hurt like hell.

I muttered something and excused myself to go use the restroom. They could play musical chairs while I was away from the table. I made the mistake of glancing in the mirror when I was washing my hands. Both eyes were already black and maroon. The skin over my right cheekbone was swollen and purple. My neck was sporting some awesome raised red marks in the shape of fingers. I splashed cold water on my face and decided that more drinks were needed if I was going to survive the rest of this fucked up day.

When I stepped out of the rest room, I heard his laughter filling the bar. There was a day when it was me who brought him to life. Now it was Arielle as well as Marshy and Dix who were on the receiving end of his smile. I looked down at my clenched fist. After five years I was still jealous of anyone who could make him laugh. The giggling ended when I showed up and slid into my chair. I made sure to keep all my body parts tucked in so I didn't accidentally brush against Tyce.

"Will you guys knock it off," I said. "This staring shit is getting old."

"Your face is so fucked up. It's worse than when that shithead smashed you into the glass two years ago and you had to get twelve stitches to keep your eyebrow from falling off," Marshy said.

"And here I thought it made me look ruggedly handsome," I said, waggling my eyebrows.

That answer made them all relax. Conversation and drinks flowed easy for everyone except me. I was acutely aware of the person sitting next to me. It was hard not to stare at him. He fell in with my friends like he had known them all his life. They talked about school, parties and finals. All things normal college students discuss. Eventually the conversation moved back to hockey when Arielle started giving Marshy a hard time for only scoring five goals in his entire college career. She made sure to mention that I held the school record for goals scored during a season and during a career.

"I was more into hitting," Marshy said. "Besides, I had to protect Foxy's scrawny ass all the time."

Dix laughed. "Hey Marshy, remember that goal you scored with your elbow?"

"Shut up," Marshy said. "I did it on purpose."

"What's the best goal you ever saw in your life?" Dix asked.

"That's easy," I shouted. "When we were sophomores in high school, this guy right here"—I bumped shoulders with Tyce—"takes a pass from me and pops the puck up on his stick blade, skates the entire sheet of ice before he flips it into the air and bats it over the left shoulder of the goalie. Coolest fucking thing I've ever seen in a game."

"No," Tyce spluttered. "No way. The best one was when that guy hip checked you and you went sprawling but somehow, you managed to keep control of the puck and slide it through the five hole while you were on your stomach."

"Oh fuck," I laughed. "I forgot about that one, but that was pure luck. Your goal was total skill."

"You guys know each other?" Marshy asked.

"You guys played hockey together?" Dix said at the same time.

Shit.

"It was a long time ago," Tyce said quickly.

Marshy and Dix started firing questions at Tyce. He did the best he could to answer all of them. I wanted to kick Arielle again for putting us in this situation.

"No, Erik left in the middle of our junior year," Tyce said, shaking his head. "I finished out the year then quit playing."

"You quit," I said, swiveling in my chair to face him. "Why? You were great."

"I'm not having this discussion now," Tyce said firmly.

"Foxy's right," Marshy chimed in.

"What," both Tyce and I said.

"I knew I recognized you. It
was
you at the rink. I've seen you skate and handle a puck. The coach even talked to you a few times. You're good. You could have played hockey with us."

"That was just messing around," Tyce said as a pink flush crept up his cheeks.

"If you think he was good alone, you should have seen them play together," Arielle said.

She went on to highlight our hockey careers, starting when we were seven years old. Tyce squirmed in his seat and I fiddled with some of my leftover fries. Finally I slammed my glass on the table to get everyone's attention.

"I know, I've got an excellent idea," I said. "Let's talk about something else."

"Screw the talk, we should go skate," Marshy said. "Karl would let us in to the practice rink."

"I still have a key," Dix said as he held up his key ring. "Only a junior, remember, and Karl said I could skate anytime."

"Fuck yeah," Marshy shouted. He grabbed Arielle by the hand, tugging her to the bar where he settled our tab, telling the bartender all about the contract he'd signed with St. Louis. The bartender shook his hand and wished him luck.

"Should we call a cab or just walk?" Dix asked. "We gotta stop at home and get our shit. Arielle you got skates don't you?"

"I'm not skating," Arielle said, looking horrified. "I'll watch so I can call the ambulance when one of you drunk idiots gets hurt."

"What about you, Tyce? Where are your skates?" Marshy asked.

Tyce fidgeted and ran his hand through his hair. It was an old habit he did when he was nervous. It was comforting to see the boy I used to know still existed somewhere in the man standing before me.

Marshy and Dix badgered Tyce, offering all sorts of weird bets and challenges. There was no way Tyce was going to get out of this. The idea of actually stepping on the ice with Tyce again confused the hell out of me. I didn't know if I should be pissed or happy. Arielle caught my eye and gave me a bewildered look. I shrugged and sighed when Tyce clapped Dix on the back and nodded his head.

Fuck, we were hitting the ice.

Chapter 3

Dix and Marshy gawked at me as I stumbled around our apartment like a fucking idiot. Arielle had dropped off my equipment last night, but I had no idea where she had dumped it. I walked around in circles until it finally dawned on me that I was nervous to go on the ice with him and maybe this was my way of stalling. Our first kiss happened on the ice. Our first fight happened on the ice. We made up from that first fight by fighting and rolling around on the ice until we both were breathless and I ended up with a giant hickey on my collarbone. When we were upset or happy or mad, we took to the ice. It was like coming full circle and I didn't know if I was ready to face my past when I could barely face my future.

"Foxy, we got your shit," Dix said. "And Lindy's waiting."

"Yeah, okay," I mumbled, almost knocking over a pile of Marshy's boxes. "Wait, you called Lindy?"

"Yep, he's going to chauffeur us around for the rest of today," Marshy said. "I bribed him with an autograph."

Fifteen minutes later we were standing at the backdoor of our practice rink. On the way over, I secretly hoped that another team had reserved the rink. Lindy told Marshy to text him when we were finished playing.

The door squeaked as Dix pushed it open. He kept reassuring us it was okay to be here; that he'd fired off a text to Karl and he'd given us the okay. Dix and Marshy turned on the lights and were already getting their skates laced up when I finally stepped all the way inside the building. The smell of ice hit my nostrils making my muscles twitch in anticipation. Old habits died hard; it was another tired cliché, but one that fit the moment perfectly. I took a deep breath and lugged my gear over to the nearest bench, tossing the heavy bag to the ground. This was the last place I thought I'd find myself after I'd decided I was done with hockey.

I couldn't have predicted this day if I had a fucking crystal ball. My fingers traced the bruises on my face and throat again. The sound of sharp blades cutting into the ice sped up my heartbeat and woke me up from my thoughts. Marshy and Dix were circling the rink. We weren't putting on full gear, but I contemplated shoving a cup in my underwear because I didn't need any other body part damaged and Marshy liked to play rough. Common sense won and I decided to protect the goods.

The back door opened again and Arielle and Tyce breezed by me, whispering and giggling like good friends. He dropped his bag at the end of the bench and opened it up, dragging out his skates. I couldn't resist sneaking a peek as he readied them. He was insanely superstitious when it came to them and they were exactly as I remembered. The laces were neatly tucked inside the boot, tied together with a bow and he always started with the left skate. After he undid the bow, he flipped the laces out, tugged on the tongue and slowly slid his left foot inside. The right skate received the same treatment. As he opened it up, I caught a glimpse of a tiny piece of grey duct tape with the number seven written in black marker stuck to the inside of his boot. My heart pounded against my ribs so hard I almost choked.

Number seven had been my jersey number since I was thirteen years old. Tyce and I were on a traveling team and I'd never given the number on the back of my jersey any thought. I took whatever the coach gave me. We were at a very important tournament and I was on a wild tear, putting up insane numbers. Before the championship game, Tyce stared me down and bet me I couldn't put up a total of six points in one game. It was a ridiculous amount, but I took the bet and upped him one, telling him I would match the number on my jersey. We slaughtered our opponent and I tallied a hat trick and four assists. It was a hell of a game and after that, seven became my number.

I picked up my skate and stared at the small piece of tape tucked deep inside the boot with the number nineteen written on it. We'd started with the number thing shortly after that crazy tournament and even after all this time I couldn't make myself quit doing it. At first it was a joke, but when we got together it became more significant, like I was taking a part of him on the ice with me. And when I left, I kept his number in my skate. If something worked, you didn't change it, but for me it was a way to stay connected with him, even if we were no longer together.

No one on my team knew the reason it was there. Marshy constantly made fun of me for my silly superstitions. I told him it was just a number of a favorite player and I'd been doing it since I was a kid. He made a list of all the players in the NHL who wore the number nineteen and taped it inside my locker. There was also one hanging in my bathroom and on my closet door.

Arielle bumped my knee. "So how pissed off are you?"

"I'm too fucking tired to be mad. I did devise several interesting ways to murder you and dispose of your body."

"Are you sure you should go on the ice. Your face is really fucked up."

"I don't need my face to play hockey," I said. "Besides we're just going to mess around."

"He looks great, doesn't he," Arielle said, throwing a quick glance at Tyce who was already racing around the ice with Marshy. Dix had his phone out and was timing them. If Tyce was in any sort of shape, Marshy didn't stand a chance in hell of beating him.

Marshy was no slouch on the ice, but Tyce could fly. When the race ended, Tyce beat Marshy by at least two strides. Dix's feet almost flew out from under him, when he held up his phone, shouting out the time. Marshy was bent at the waist, looking like he was going to spit a lung out. Tyce barely looked winded.

Dix skated over to Marshy and showed him the phone. Both guys looked at the numbers in total disbelief. Dix turned the phone toward me, but I waved him off and laughed. I'd raced against Tyce for half my life and only beat him a handful of times.

"Get out there and try to have some fun," Arielle said as she leaned against me. "There will be time for murder later."

"Count on it," I said. I jabbed her gently in the side with my stick before I jumped to my feet and headed out on the ice. Dix was still staring at his phone.

"Put that thing away," I shouted.

"Fucking hell, the boy is fast," Dix said before he handed the phone off to Arielle.

"I see you haven't lost a step," I shouted at Tyce. "But I may have gained a few."

He cocked his head and flashed me a smile that made me want to leap across the ice and press him into the boards. My face burned and I had to close my eyes to chase away the memories of red swollen lips and soft warm skin.

"I can still take you," Tyce shouted back.

"Oh, you are so on," I said.

I'm not sure how long we stayed on the ice. We messed around playing two on two for a long time, switching teams around until Tyce and I were paired and we wiped Marshy and Dix away. It was frightening how quickly we fell in step with each other again. The five years apart melted away. All Marshy and Dix could do was shake their heads in disbelief as they told Tyce over and over how stupid he had been to quit hockey. Tyce rolled his eyes.

"Hockey isn't everything," Tyce said.

"How come you switched schools?" Dix asked me.

"It wasn't my choice," I said, staring directly at Tyce.

Dix started to ask another question, but I didn't want to go down that long bumpy road.

"Look, it's over and nothing I can do will change the past. I didn't want to leave," I said. "Ever," I whispered as I breezed by Tyce.

Arielle must have sensed the tension because she started banging on the boards, shouting about being cold and starving.

"Me too," Marshy agreed. He went flying toward her, spraying her with snow.

Arielle squealed and Marshy jumped over the boards, tossing my sister over his shoulder. They seemed way too familiar with each other. I caught Dix's eye but he just shook his head.

"We all need showers," Dix said. "Let's get cleaned up then we'll grab some food and drinks."

Tyce nodded and skated away with Dix, leaving me leaning against the boards with the past sitting heavy on my shoulders.

"Come on, Foxy," Marshy shouted as I skated slowly across the rink. "I sweat my buzz out."

"Aw, poor baby," Arielle said. "Let's get rid of all this sweat so we can find your buzz again."

She wrinkled her nose when she sniffed his neck. Marshy grinned like an idiot and I eyed Arielle carefully. What was she playing at? I needed to pull her aside and scold her for teasing Marshy. At least I hoped she was teasing, because tomorrow he was getting on a plane heading for St. Louis to meet his dream head on and he didn't need her messing with his heart. He may look like a big tough hockey player, but he'd been carrying a torch for my sister for four long years and if she suddenly fanned the fire, he might do something crazy. But then what did I know? Handing out good advice for the lovelorn wasn't on my résumé.

"I'm sorry you got dragged into this," I said to Tyce.

"I didn't have to come. It's been fun," Tyce said.

"Yeah," I said, sighing as I stepped off the ice. My heart pounded in my ears and I felt like it was ending all over again. I'd only been on the ice with him for a few hours and all the pain and hurt and anger and love hit me harder than my dad's fist. I managed to drag myself to the bench where I plunked down next to Marshy.

"How's the face, man?"

"Eh, hurts. Like you said, the buzz is gone. The alcohol made everything numb."

And being numb was a great thing. I kicked my skates off and grabbed a rag from my bag, sliding it over one of the blades. Marshy picked up my other skate.

"Hey, since I'm leaving and all and you're retiring are you going to tell me who the hell number nineteen is and why you've had it in your skates for all these years?"

A loud thud came from the other end of the bench. Tyce had dropped his equipment bag and was staring wide-eyed at me. I snatched the skate away from Marshy and shoved it in my bag, zipping it up and slinging the bag over my shoulder.

"Oh come on, Foxy, it's been driving me nuts for four fucking years."

"Let's go eat," I said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. "And drink."

"I think I will make it my mission tonight to find out your secrets."

"You don't want to go there, Marshy. There's some bad shit hidden in my head."

Arielle shouted at us to get moving. Marshy shrugged and headed toward the door, but he turned quickly and frowned at me. "I didn't mean anything by that comment. About your secrets, I mean."

"I know," I said. "My secrets seem to be spilling out everywhere today."

Dix flipped the lights off and I could feel Tyce's presence behind me. When I turned around, I bumped his shoulder and fell into the cool pool of his blue eyes.

"Tyce," I whispered and he shuddered, closing his eyes. I thrust my hands into my pockets so I wouldn't reach out and touch him. I hadn't physically been this close to him in five years, but at the same time I felt like we were on separate continents. I had to remind myself that he was off limits.

Tyce stepped back, allowing me a little space so I could actually breathe again. "You really shouldn't give it up, Erik," Tyce said.

"What?" I choked out as I felt the panic rise into my throat. Could the little shit still read my mind? He used to tease me that he could break into my head at any time to find out exactly what I was thinking. I even tested him once. Granted we were a little looped and it was three in the morning, but he read me like a wide-open book.

"I thought you'd lost it, but the spark is still there," Tyce said. "It's easy to see."

The spark
was
still there. It had never left, but now it wasn't a spark; it was flame, a raging forest fire covering acres and acres of land. Sweat beaded up on my forehead as the heat rolled off my skin. If we stayed in the rink much longer, we would be standing in a puddle of water.

"Even if Boston is out, I'm sure it wouldn't be all that hard to get try-outs with other teams this summer."

The meaning behind the conversation suddenly clicked into place and my heart sank. He wasn't talking about us. There was no us. He'd put that fire out long ago. I was his past, not his present or future.

"Or not," Tyce quickly added when he noticed the frown on my face. "You're so good and it seems you still really love the game."

I rearranged my face, bringing forth a very forced smile. "The game was never the problem. I'll always love the game."

"And you,"
my heart whispered.

A car horn blared loudly outside, signaling to us that it was time to leave the rink. Arielle and Tyce had walked here so we were all leaving in the same vehicle.

Fucking Arielle managed to do some high wire gymnastic act so I ended up sitting next to Tyce and she ended up on Marshy's lap. We were both trying to keep our various body parts from touching, which proved to be impossible. I suppose I could have opened my window and hung outside, panting like a dog. I finally gave up and let my thigh press against him. His elbow dug into my side and his scent swirled around me until I felt dizzy.

"Tyce," Dix said from the front seat. "You can shower at our place."

"Nah, I should get home. Besides I'm sure you guys want to hang out since it's your last day here."

"Fuck no," Marshy said. "I want to hear some more stories about Foxy."

I snorted. Some of the stories Tyce had about me would put a curl in Marshy's stick-straight hair.

Uh, I don't have any clothes with me," Tyce said.

"I'm sure Erik has something clean you can borrow," Arielle said.

I leaned back, looking over Tyce's shoulder and glared at her, mouthing the word murder. She smirked at me. Actually smirked. But then I lost my train of thought when I noticed Tyce's exposed throat.

"Oh fuck," I whispered and rested my face against the window. Memories of licking and sucking on Tyce's neck were absolutely forbidden at the moment. Sweatpants did not hide a hard-on at all.

Tyce nudged me. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Yeah, face hurts," I mumbled. It was more than just my face that was hurting.

Five minutes later, Lindy pulled into the parking lot of our apartment complex. Everyone jumped out of the car and disappeared before I even moved. I hung behind, pretending to mess with my equipment bag. This was pure torture. It must be punishment for hurting him all those years ago. It seemed easy for him to be around me and I hated it. I wanted acknowledgement of what we once meant to each other. It was selfish and petty, but I wanted him to look at me. Surely he could see the hurt in my eyes. Fuck, I was losing my mind.