Текст книги "Delayed Penalty"

Автор книги: Sophia Henry

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 12

What’s that old saying? It’s better to have loved and had your heart raked across hot coals and stomped on than never to have loved at all?

That’s the route I’d decided to take, because saying no never even crossed my mind when Aleksandr invited me to go to the Detroit Red Wings game with him.

The Pilots had a five-day break over Christmas and Aleksandr wanted to see the Red Wings, since he hadn’t had a chance to get to a game yet. As I crunched across the greenish brown lawn to his Jeep, I reminded myself to be calm and cool. But calm and cool got kicked to the curb when I lifted my eyes to Aleksandr, with his Mohawk gelled into a petite pompadour and a five-o’clock shadow dusting his strong jaw. I climbed over the gearshift to straddle him before intertwining my hands behind his neck and planting my lips on his.

“Best. Greeting. Ever.” Aleksandr said when I pulled back. He swept away a few strands of hair that had fallen forward when I’d attacked him. “You always surprise me.”

A stupid girly giggle slipped out as I climbed over to the passenger seat. As I buckled my seat belt, the realization of what that kiss meant hit me.

There was no turning back. I’d secured the parachute to my back, hopped on the plane, ascended to an altitude 12,500 feet, and jumped out.

Now, I was falling.

“First Red Wings game. Smile!” I snapped a picture of Aleksandr in Joe Louis Arena’s dark, dank parking garage.

“Shouldn’t we wait until we can see the arena?” he asked, blinking rapidly.

“Sorry,” I said and shoved my camera into my purse. Then I grabbed his forearm and hopped up and down. “I’m just so excited for your first game.”

Aleksandr laughed and placed his hand over mine so I couldn’t let go of his arm as he led me toward the walkway to the arena.

After snapping Aleksandr’s picture in front of the massive steps to the arena, we climbed them and entered Joe Louis through the Gordie Howe entrance, named after the Red Wings legendary forward. As we weaved through the Joe’s crowded concourse to find Section 121, Aleksandr came to an abrupt stop.

“Did you know he was going to be here?” he asked, nodding toward a stand where an older man held up multiple game programs. I followed his gaze and saw Drew exchanging a ten-dollar bill for the program.

“No,” I said. Which was true. Drew’s parents have had Red Wings season tickets for as long as I can remember, but he never told me he’d be at the game. Although I hadn’t spoken to him since the soccer game.

Aleksandr pressed a kiss on the top of my head, and I let out a breath of relief. Just as I turned to enter our section, I heard Drew call my name. I had every intention of pretending I hadn’t heard him until I noticed the tall brunette at his side, fingers intertwined with his. Shannon Richards, one of my friends from high school. One of my best friends, but I’d lost touch with her during our freshman year at college. At first, we’d kept in touch by e-mail. Then life got busy, and e-mails became less frequent, save the occasional birthday message, until they stopped altogether.

“Let’s go,” I whispered. I waved to Drew, then pointed toward the bulky, crimson curtain separating the concourse from the seating area. “We’re going to head in. See you at intermission?”

Instead of waiting for a response, I poked Aleksandr in the rib cage to prod him forward.

“ ‘See you at intermission?’ ” Aleksandr asked when we settled into the rigid red seats. “Why would you say that?”

“We can’t say hi to my friend during the first intermission?” I asked.

“Not when your friend is in love with you.”

“He’s not.” I laughed out loud as I leaned over, setting my purse at my feet. “He’s here with a girl.”

Aleksandr shook his head and turned to watch the Red Wings and their opponent, the Chicago Blackhawks, skating around their respective nets.

I loved watching to see if any players had superstitions, like tapping the goalie’s pads or the crossbar of the net.

“Do you have any pregame superstitions?” I asked, sliding my hand under Aleksandr’s dark waves to rub his neck at the hairline. My pulse quickened when I felt the tension ease from his shoulders and his body shiver under my touch.

His lips quirked up and he threw me a quick glance. “Can’t tell you.”

“Seriously?” I asked, halting my massage.

“Don’t want to jinx it.” He wiggled against my hand like a dog that won’t let you stop petting him.

I laughed and resumed my caress. I understood player superstitions. I used to sing and dance to “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It” before every soccer game in eighth grade. I’m still convinced it worked because we’d gone undefeated and won the city championship that year.

When the horn sounded to mark the end of the first period, I turned to Aleksandr. “Are you coming with me?”

“Da.” He emphasized the yes in Russian. At least he’d remembered I was his translator, and he wasn’t supposed to know much English; I sure hadn’t. To me, this was a date.

After making our way to the concourse, I excused myself to use the ladies’ room.

I heard a female voice call my name as I took my spot at the end of the line. I scanned the area for the voice that had beckoned me when I saw Shannon step out of the line and walk back to where I stood.

“Hey, girl!” She had her arms around me before I could respond.

“Hey,” I said as I broke away. “How’s State?”

“So frickin’ hard,” she said, though her smile told me she didn’t mind. “Tell me why I went into prelaw, again?”

“Because you’re smart as hell and like to argue with people,” I answered, returning the grin.

“That’s not true.” She nudged my arm with her elbow. “See what I did there?”

“Stop laughing at your own jokes. That’s my thing,” I said.

Shannon hadn’t changed much since high school, still rocking long, dark brown hair and bronze skin, even in the middle of December. Since her dad owned a chain of tanning salons around the metro Detroit area, her skin stayed perfectly sun-kissed. Shannon, my class’s valedictorian, was pretty and smart. Too smart. It was as if she didn’t know how to tone down her intelligence to talk to people. She’d always get an eye roll or a big sigh from classmates when her arm shot up to answer a question. Every. Single. Question.

Our friendship worked because we both let the other one be herself. Shannon was smart and a little awkward, whereas I was athletic and a little awkward. Neither one of us drank in high school, so instead of going to football games and parties on Friday nights, we hung out at the local civic arena and watched Drew’s hockey games. Shannon didn’t even like hockey before she met me, but it beat sitting home on the weekend, so she rolled with it.

“How’ve you been?” she asked. We both took a few steps forward as the line moved.

“Great. Just working on my social work degree so I can help people before they become your future clients.”

“You don’t think I want to be a prosecutor?”

“Nope.” I glanced at the concrete floor, wondering if I should even ask the next question. Ah, what the hell. “I saw you with Drew when we first got here. What’s up with you guys?”

“We saw each other at a party on campus freshman year and we’ve been dating ever since.” We inched up a few more steps as a woman came out of the restroom.

“You’ve been dating for three years?” I asked. I’m sure my voice held more surprise than I meant to express. Drew had been dating Shannon for three years? And he never told me?

“We both have really busy schedules. I’m always studying, and he’s always practicing or traveling, but, um, yeah.” Shannon looked at the girl in front of us in line, effectively avoiding my eyes. “It’s kinda weird running into you while I’m with him, ya know?”

“Why?” I asked in confusion. Had I done something to offend her, other than let our friendship slip away? Maybe it was a big deal to some people. To me, it was just the cycle of life.

“I don’t know, I just—I know you liked Drew a while back, and I would never want to hurt you,” Shannon said, finally looking at me. Her relief was almost tangible. “Are you mad?”

“No,” I said. “Seriously, I’m here with someone.”

Would I have been angry with Shannon if I were here with Kristen instead of Aleksandr? Yes and no. We’d graduated, so it wasn’t a total slap in my face. And I was over Drew. But it did hurt that he’d picked her over me, even years later. What did she have that I didn’t? My internal thoughts needed to tone down the cattiness before I grew karmic whiskers.

“You’re sure you aren’t mad because it’s Drew?” Shannon asked. She looked so nervous that I almost felt bad for her, but I was too busy thinking about how pathetic her nerves made me look. We followed the line forward again as two more women came out of the bathroom.

“Oh my gosh. That whole thing I had for Drew was lame. Just a crush a long time ago,” I told her with certainty.

“It’s good to talk to you again,” Shannon told me, leaning in for another hug.

I hugged her back before she entered the restroom.

When I walked out of the ladies’ room, I spotted Drew and Aleksandr talking. Well, talking might not be the correct word, since Aleksandr and Drew were almost nose to nose and Aleksandr had a fist clenched at his side.

Drew’s lips were moving as he watched me approach, but I couldn’t make out what he’d said.

I rushed to Aleksandr’s side, taking hold of his fist, so he wouldn’t use it. His breathing was audible, and his shoulders were heaving. How the hell could someone who supposedly couldn’t speak English get so angry?

“Stay the fuck away,” he said to Drew in heavily accented English.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Neeshtoh,” Aleksandr spat, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward our seats.

“Yeah, that looked like nothing,” I muttered as I followed him.

“You all right?” I asked Aleksandr during the first break in play of the second period. I’d given him some time to cool down from whatever had transpired between him and Drew in the concourse by letting him watch the hockey game in silence.

“Da,” he responded.

No eye contact. Speaking Russian. Not all right.

“You seem upset.”

“Tell me the truth about him, Audushka.” He swiveled to look at me. “I deserve that, don’t I?”

I nodded. “Drew and I have been friends since birth. I had a crush on him years ago. He made it clear he never liked me in that way. Now he’s dating someone who used to be a good friend of mine. It’s kind of weird, but no big deal.”

“He likes you in that way now.”

“No. He doesn’t.”

Aleksandr laughed. “I can’t tell if you’re lying or clueless.”

“Seeing as I’ve never had a boyfriend and the only guys who’ve ever showed interest in me just wanted sex, I’d say I’m completely clueless.” In raising my voice to emphasize my point, I’d drawn the attention of roughly thirty of the twenty thousand people at Joe Louis Arena watching the hockey game. Though we’d been conversing in Russian, I still slunk back into my seat trying to curl up like a roly-poly bug.

“You’re too beautiful to be completely clueless,” Aleksandr mumbled, his eyes returning to the action on the ice.

Beautiful? I have fairly good self-esteem, but the B-word had never been on my radar.

“I’m not beautiful. I’m average. I’m the wing woman, not the one guys go for.” I sighed. “I guess that makes me a realist.”

“You are clueless. You don’t even know.”

“Know what?”

“The effect you have on me.” He met my eyes again and shifted toward me. “The effect you have on others.”

Holy crap. My effect on him? A tight ass for him to ogle while I translated his words for the media?

Did this guy realize the effect he had on me? Did he know that every time I looked at him I saw stars? Or that his voice was my new favorite song? Did he know his presence made me feel more comfortable and calm than I’d ever felt around anyone in my life, including my best friends?

But I couldn’t tell him any of those things.

“I have no effect on anyone. I’m a ghost. Forgettable.”

“A ghost is haunting, possessing.” Aleksandr placed his hand on top of my thigh as he leaned closer. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke. “You are anything but forgettable. You are so beautiful, the sun dims when you’re around.”

I didn’t understand his angle. I’d already chosen him. I didn’t want Drew. Was he throwing the kitchen sink at me to get in my pants?

“Kristen and I were walking across campus one day and there was this guy driving around yelling things into a megaphone out his car window. He said, ‘Wow, you’re hot!’ When Kristen and I both smiled, he corrected himself. ‘Not you. The one in purple.’ I was wearing red.”

“I’m not even gonna respond to that story. That guy was an idiot. I’m not an idiot. And I’m not letting you go.”

“Not letting me go?” I asked. “You think you have me?”

“Yes.” He leaned in all the way and planted his lips on mine. I sunk into the kiss, my eyes fluttering shut as he pressed harder.

“Seeing your friend with him upsets you, doesn’t it? Just like seeing you with me upsets him.”

His voice caused my heavy lids to flash open. Why couldn’t he just stop at having me? I’d let him have me in the arena’s grimy bathroom or on the beer-soaked floor. I didn’t care where we were as long as his lips were on mine again.

I tried to brush it off. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. You shouldn’t have to tiptoe around your friends.”

“I avoid conflict. I fly under the radar. Everyone is happy.” He’d crossed the conversation into uncomfortable territory, even for us.

“That’s fucked up.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything.” I looked at him. His eyes were sad but gray—the sky before a thunderstorm.

“I’m sorry you’ve never been able to share your feelings with your friends because you think they’ll be mad at you and end the friendship.”

“It makes life easier.” If my eyes would have given off laser beams, there would have been a puddle of water at center ice.

“Does it? I would think that’s a lot to keep up. Must be exhausting.”

“I keep the peace.”

“At what price?”

I shrugged again.

“I think the flying-under-the-radar bit is a total smoke show. It’s fake. You want people to notice you, to care about you. You think you have to suppress your feelings because you don’t want to lose anyone else. You don’t want people to think you’re looking for attention, yet you desperately crave attention because you are missing the two fundamental people who fill that need for a child. It’s okay to say what you want and feel what you feel, Audushka. It’s not weak. Keeping people at a distance will lead you to a very lonely life.”

“I’m gonna take a walk.” I got up from my seat. I needed to get away.

Aleksandr grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. “You don’t have to run away from me. I won’t be mad if you open up.”

“I don’t open up, so don’t take it personal.” I balled my hands into fists—in frustration—I wasn’t going to punch him or anything.

“Is talking about something that scary?” Aleksandr asked, uncurling one of my fists and lacing his fingers with mine.

I nodded.

“I would be jealous if a girl I liked chose someone else over me.”

“But that would never happen because you’re a hot Russian hockey god.”

Aleksandr choked out a laugh. “What?”

Tension relieved. Exactly what I wanted.

“Sasha, I’m not interested in Drew anymore, haven’t been in years. It was the realization of who he was dating that shocked me. He’s dated girls before. But for him to choose one of my best friends. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that sucks.”

“Isn’t there an unwritten friend rule? You can’t date the person your friend had a major crush on for years?”

“I have no room to talk. I stole Gribov’s choice.”

“What?” My head snapped to face Aleksandr. Just hearing Gribov’s name made me think of his rude gesture in the locker room. What kind of guy jiggles his junk at someone?

“He called dibs on my new translator if she was a hot female. But I stole you, so I can’t say I follow that rule. You’re the one who said all’s fair in love and war.”

“Gribov called dibs on the next warm female body. I can’t say that’s very flattering.”

“You should be very flattered. He said the first translator Zhyena interviewed was a dog. And she modeled for someplace or other, so she said.”

“This is a ridiculous conversation.” Although a twang of pride hit me, hearing him say they’d interviewed another translator. I thought I’d gotten the job because Orlenko and Grandpa were such good friends.

“You’re right. I don’t want to talk about him.” Aleksandr leaned over and brushed his lips across mine so lightly it was painful. “Just promise me you’ll always tell me what you’re feeling. I’m not going to leave you if you speak your mind. Trust in me, Audushka.”

I nodded, my lips sweeping across his as my head bobbed.

“I don’t want you to be on tiptoes around me. Not unless you’re reaching to kiss me.”

I pressed my lips to his firmly. I had no other answer. I appreciated his effort, but he couldn’t erase a lifetime in a few minutes.

–

After the game ended, Aleksandr drove me back to my grandparents’ house. He pulled into the driveway, put his Jeep in park, and turned off the engine. Then he reached around and pulled a small plastic bag from the backseat.

“Your Christmas present,” he explained as he handed it to me.

“Sasha, you took me to the game. I don’t need anything else.”

“Please.”

“Why not give it to me on Christmas? You should come over and have dinner with me and my family.”

“I have plans.”

“Oh, well, okay. I was worried you’d be alone.” I played with the hem of my Red Wings jersey to hide my disappointment.

Aleksandr cupped my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting my face to his. “You worry about me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know you don’t celebrate Christmas, but it’s still a day of family time, and since you don’t have any family here, I wanted you to have somewhere to go.” I tried to look away but couldn’t, since he was still holding my face.

Aleksandr moved forward to kiss me. “Thank you for thinking of me, Audushka. You have no idea what that means to me.”

“It’s not a big deal.” I shrugged out of his grasp.

“Here.” Aleksandr pushed the bag into my hands.

Inside was a small black box. It looked like a ring box. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t jumping to any crazy conclusions; ring box was the best description. Definitely a jewelry box. I lifted the lid to find a small, gold Pilots-logo charm.

“This is awesome,” I whispered, touching it with the tip of my finger. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You always wear the same chain and charm, so I thought this might fit on there with it.”

And just like that I was done for.

I put my hand to my neck, fingering the gold chain and charm that had belonged to my mother. It was a delicate owl with two tiny amber stones for eyes. I had to assume my mom liked owls because there was also a latch hook owl hanging on the wall in the basement of my grandparents’ house that she made. I wasn’t a huge fan of owls, but it was the only piece of jewelry I owned that had belonged to her.

“This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received,” I told him, meeting his eyes.

“It was something I knew you’d like.”

I leaned over, giving him a tight thank-you-for-the-best-gift-ever hug. When I pulled away, I glanced out the car window to see all the lights on in the front room of my house. I was positive my grandma was watching through the window.

“Thank you for this.” I shook the charm. “And for a wonderful night. Tonight was great.”

“You’re welcome.” He seemed happy that I was happy.

I didn’t want to get out of the car without acknowledging what I had realized.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about your parents and your fears. Thank you for understanding and being patient with me. You’re the kind of friend I didn’t even know I needed.”

“Friend?” His shoulders shook, and a low laugh left his lips. “Well, you are the friend I needed, but hadn’t been able to find.”

“See ya later, Sasha.” I swung open the door and heaved myself out.

Chapter 13

“I can’t fit one more thing in my stomach,” I groaned, leaning back in my seat at our kitchen table where I’d just finished my second piece of pumpkin pie. The first should have been enough, after the huge meal Grandma had cooked, but I’d cut myself a tiny sliver initially, so I’d gone back for more.

“I can tell. Those pants are pretty tight,” my cousin, Jeff, teased.

“Shut up.” I grabbed a homemade buttermilk biscuit out of the basket next to my plate and whipped it at him.

Uncle Rick reached out and, with amazing catlike reflexes, nabbed the biscuit from the air. “Well, now just because you’re full doesn’t mean you have to waste food.” He bit down on it.

“I’m gonna barf just watching you,” I told my uncle, covering my mouth with my hands.

There were ten people gathered for Christmas dinner at my grandparents’ house. We were all laughing and teasing each other, like normal, but I wondered how many of us felt a twinge of sadness knowing it would be the last Christmas dinner we’d ever have here. So many vibrant memories lived in this house. The house where my grandparents raised my mom and Uncle Rick. The house where they’d raised me.

The house should have been on the market years ago. There had been multiple home invasions in the neighborhood recently, as well as a shooting a few houses down. My grandparents could no longer make the case that they still felt safe. We all knew moving was inevitable, but like a girl who still couldn’t get over the fact that her soccer career was over, none of us wanted to let go just yet of the memories of what used to be.

“Merry Christmas.” I heard my grandma in the distance. Who was she talking to? Everyone was here.

“What?” I turned back to Jeff, who had asked me something.

“I said, where’s lover boy? I thought for sure you’d have him here to show off.”

“ ‘Show off’?”

“You’re dating a famous hockey player, I’d show him off.”

“We aren’t dating. I’m his translator slash tutor,” I corrected.

“Yeah, I had a tutor once. Totally banged her.”

“Nice Christmas talk,” Uncle Rick said, slapping Jeff upside the head.

“Auden! Phone!” Gram called.

Phone? The ring must’ve been drowned out by my family’s chattering. I pushed back from the table and ran up the stairs to the kitchen, where our main house phone was mounted on the wall. And, yes, it was a rotary.

“Hello?” I asked after Gram handed me the receiver.

“Audushka? Merry Chrissmas,” Aleksandr slurred.

“Merry Christmas, Sasha. What are you doing?” I played dumb, since I could practically smell the vodka through the phone.

“I am sitting in this very nice establishment having dinner and I realized I did not call you and wish you a merry day. I do not celebrate this day, but I know you do, so I am calling you.”

“Well, thanks. Are you okay?”

“Okay? I am very okay, Auden. However”—he paused to belch in my ear—“I think they would like me to leave.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear with a grimace. “What makes you say that?”

“They told me to go home.”

“You’re not driving, right?”

“No, no, no. They won’t let me. This nice gentleman said he would call me a cab, but I told him I had a ride.”

Silence.

“You need me to pick you up, don’t you?” I asked after a moment.

“Yes.”

“Where are you?” I sighed, grabbing a pencil and piece of paper from the second shelf of a tiered plant stand in the corner of the kitchen.

“A very nice establishment.”

“Yeah, you said that. Where is it?”

“No clue.”

I raised my eyes to the ceiling. “Is there someone I can talk to who knows where you are?”

I winced at the loud clang and scrape in my ear. He either dropped the receiver as he handed the phone off or got hit by a semi. I hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“Are you coming to pick this guy up or what?” a rough male voice asked.

“Yeah, I just need to know where to go.”

I wrote down the address he gave me, thanking him before I hung up.

Blowing past Gram and Aunt Sharon at the sink rinsing dishes, I ran to my room to grab my coat. I shoved my driver’s license into the back pocket of my skinny jeans, and returned to the kitchen.

“Was he drinking, Auden?” Gram asked, looking at me over her shoulder and not missing a beat as she rinsed those dishes.

“Yep,” I said, sliding an arm into my peacoat. “I’m going to pick him up.”

“Make sure he takes some Advil,” Gram ordered. “And roll him onto his side this time.”

“I will,” I said, wrapping a mock Burberry plaid scarf around my neck before I realized she’d said “this time.” I tried to recall a time she would have seen him drunk—Oh my gosh, my grandmother knew Aleksandr had been in my bed after the night in Canada. As I snatched my keys off the hook by the back door, I dared a glance over my shoulder. Aunt Sharon was putting dishes in the dishwasher, but Gram caught my eye and winked.

Aleksandr must’ve been pulling my leg when he’d told me he was at a “very nice establishment” because when I pulled up to the scary, dilapidated building on the outskirts of downtown Detroit, I didn’t want to get out of the car. I really hoped the jacked-up guy in a long, black leather coat and black knit beanie taking up the whole doorway was the bouncer. He looked like he could challenge Rocky Balboa in the next Rocky film.

“ID?” Rocky’s opponent demanded.

“I’m just here to pick someone up,” I told him.

“ID.”

I fished my driver’s license out of my back pocket, thankful that I’d remembered to take it before I’d left the house.

“I’m under twenty-one. I just want to pick up my friend. He’s really drunk.”

“Dude from the Pilots?”

I nodded.

“Wait here. I’ll get him.” He started through the door when I grabbed his arm. The muscle tightened under my grasp. His gaze traveled from my hand to my eyes.

“Sorry.” I released him. “Can I, um, can I just take one step inside?”

I checked over my shoulder. The street was devoid of people and cars, other than my own, but I was still freaked out. I was a wuss, and the bouncer knew it. Which was fine with me as long as he didn’t make me wait alone on the streets of Detroit.

His mouth turned up in an amused smile, but he held the door open for me to follow him inside.

If the steel door with a blacked-out window wasn’t foreboding enough, the smoky haze and urine smell when I entered was.

“Isn’t smoking banned?” I tugged the collar of my sweater up to shield my mouth and nose.

“Don’t make me regret letting your underage ass in here,” the bouncer called over his shoulder without stopping his pursuit.

Yeah, it didn’t seem like a place that cared about smoking fines.

I watched the bouncer weave his way through a small room crammed with a half dozen people and two pool tables. The bouncer tapped Aleksandr’s shoulder and pointed my way. When he swiveled in the bar stool and caught sight of me, his face lit up. At least he was a happy drunk.

“And I feel fine,” Aleksandr sang as the bouncer led him by the arm. “Remember that song?”

“There’s no song like that, man.” The bouncer shook his head, not amused with Aleksandr’s ditty.

“There is. Tell him, Auduska.”

“The Beatles?” I guessed.

“The Beatles! Ha!” Aleksandr poked the bouncer in the chest.

“Take him before I punch him,” the bouncer told me, letting go of Aleksandr’s arm. “Drive safe.”

Aleksandr wobbled on his feet, so I shoved my shoulder under him, wrapping my arm around his back. He tried to take a step, but fell onto me. I had to take a step back for leverage.

“Sorry, Audushka.” He squeezed my bicep. “You’re strong.”

“My car is right there.” I pointed with my free hand, which I’d extended for balance.

“I can walk,” Aleksandr said, shrugging out of my grasp and straightening. “I just wanted you to touch me.”

“Get in.” I shook my head as I walked around to the driver’s side.

“Thank you, Audushka,” he said, pulling his seat belt across his chest.

“No problem.”

And it wasn’t. I was happy he’d called me instead of trying to drive himself.

We drove in silence though the questions in my head were loud. Why had he chosen to get drunk at a bar by himself tonight rather than come over and have dinner with my family? I knew he didn’t celebrate Christmas, but it was more about eating and hanging out with us than celebrating the holiday.

“See this?” Aleksandr broke the silence. When I glanced over, he was pointing to the scar on his cheekbone, inches below his left eye.

“Yes.”

“You know how I got this?”

“High stick?” I asked.

“No. This one was a high stick.” He pointed to a scabbed-over gash above his right eyebrow, before trailing his finger back to the original scar he’d pointed to. “This was a bottle of vodka. Two years ago today.”

“How did it happen?” My grip tightened on the steering wheel. Bar fight was the first thought that came to my mind.

“I threw the bottle at a mirror. One of the two came back.” Aleksandr diverted his eyes out the window. “Two years ago today I was getting dressed for a game. Then my coach walks in with my aunt. I knew something was wrong immediately since my aunt hadn’t been to a game in years.” He paused to swallow. “She told me my parents died in a car accident on the way to my game. She said it just like that. Didn’t prepare me, didn’t ease me into it. I ran out of the locker room in full gear and drove to the hospital, but they wouldn’t even let me see the bodies. So I went back to my apartment and got drunk. I got angry. I threw the vodka bottle. All I could do was sit on my bed and cry and scream and throw bottles. My parents were killed trying to get to my game. They would be alive if it weren’t for me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, and reached out my hand to place it on top of his. Why was it so easy to tell other people something, but not believe it yourself?

“No, but I was the reason they were looking for a faster way to the arena. My hockey games. My hockey practices. Their lives revolved around my hockey career. And it killed them. I swore I would never play hockey again, and didn’t for a week.” He looked at our hands, twisting his so his palm was cupped toward mine. “Then I remembered that hockey was the only thing I had left.”

“I’m so sorry, Sasha. I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop apologizing, Audushka.” He lifted his eyes to mine, intensity poking through the haze. “I brought it up. I wanted you to know. For you, I’m an open book.”

I squeezed his fingers before resting our joined hands on top of his thigh. Our situations were mirror images of each other. He’d retreated into hockey to numb the pain of his parents’ death, just as I’d retreated into soccer to numb the pain of my mom’s.