Page 19 of Breaking the Ice

“No,” I confess meekly, rubbing my forehead embarrassedly with my hand. “I probably shouldn't have had that second Long Island.” How embarrassing. Of all people, Caleb has to find out about my blackout.

“You still look pretty rough. Quite pale. It's better for you to go home and lie down,” the concerned tone his voice takes on when he says this touches me. I feel like he wants to raise his hand and stroke my cheek. But he doesn't. Instead, he just looks at me with a sad expression.

“All right, I was just about to...” I interrupt myself because in the corner of my eye, I see Byers dropping his towel. Now he's standing stark naked, not five feet away from us. I have absolutely no problem with naked men, but I might have one if Thornton catches me in here. He wouldn't appreciate me ignoring his guys' privacy. “I should go,” I say hastily. “Here.” I'm about to take a step forward to hand Caleb his jacket when he steps forward and wraps his arms around my lower back. Before I realize what he's doing, he lifts me up and to the side.

“What...,” I stammer, pressed against his muscular chest.

“That was close,” he says, casting a furtive glance at Byers, who's just getting a pair of shorts from the locker. Caleb gestures at the Devils logo emblazoned on the floor next to us. “You almost stepped on the logo,” he explains, lowering his gaze to me. His intensely focused gaze that shoots straight between my legs.

“And?” I ask, a little dazed.

“That would've been bad luck.”

“Bad luck?” I repeat, managing to raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, the guys are pretty superstitious about that.”

“Oh, only about that?” I tease him, becoming more and more aware of his proximity by the second. I feel his firm body, his warm bare skin under my hands. I wish I could explore his muscles with my fingers.

“Well, what can I say, hockey players are just superstitious,” he replies, with an expression that sends a shiver down my spine. I swallow, currently unable to respond.

“Whoa, what's going on here?” I hear Byers ask. His amused tone makes me realize that I'm still in the arms of the forward. He must have seen me ogling Caleb. Damn! Feeling a bit embarrassed, I release myself from the embrace and take a step back.

“Okay, so I better get going,” I explain, avoiding their gazes. “See you.” With that, I turn around and make my exit.

12

Caleb

“My, my, looks like someone's got it bad for you, eh?” Byers remarks as soon as the door slams shut behind Emma. I don't answer, but I return to my locker with a grin I can't suppress. Yeah, I have to admit Byers is right, it seems our masseuse has taken a liking to me. I like it, a lot. The way she looked at me with those cat-like eyes... Fuck, how can you not get turned on by looks like that? Under different circumstances, I would've kissed her right here and now - slipped my tongue into her mouth. The memory of her fantastic taste has almost faded. I'll admit, I would've liked to taste her again. But I can't. Emma and I, it's an illusion I can't indulge in any longer. The fact that she doesn't remember the events of Saturday night, or more precisely, what happened outside her apartment, is my saving grace. That way, I don't have to worry about her telling anyone. I suppress the slight pang of disappointment I feel because she's forgotten our kiss. I know it's better this way.

Over the next two weeks, I deliberately keep my distance from Emma. I don't know how I'd react if she got as close to me as she did in the locker room. It's better not to take any risks, so I'll stay distant. But I watch her from afar, observe how Durand and Parker never tire of courting her. It sickens me. Those two are like herpes; you just can't get rid of them. Emma seems to get along really well with Toby and his new girlfriend, Mindy or Mandy - I have no idea what her name is. The three of them hang out regularly. Often, half the team joins them when they go out. I've noticed that the camaraderie among the players has improved since Emma arrived. We were already a tight-knit bunch, but now that the guys are doing things together more often, the bonds between some have become even stronger. This is also affecting their hockey performance. We were stronger than ever at the game last Sunday. Even Coach Thornton raved about it. And from Carl, the big boss, we each got a $500 bonus. The atmosphere at the Portland Devils, whether it's players or management, couldn't be better. That eases my mind because I couldn't stand more people with bad moods around me. Things are going badly between Jess and me. The last time we had sex was after the night at Brillant. Since then, every time she wants me, I make up an excuse. She senses that something's not right - accordingly, she's insecure and moody. It's annoying, but I can't change it. I just can't bring myself to touch her. Something in me resists. Maybe it's my guilt towards her, or maybe it's the fact that I can't stop thinking about Emma. It's frustrating. The more I try to get her out of my head, the more she haunts my thoughts. I tell myself it's only because I can't have her. After all, everything forbidden in life has a special allure.

Two weeks before Christmas, the whole team is eagerly looking forward to our next game. That game could lead us to the playoffs. Since in the New American Hockey League we play in, there aren't as many teams as in the bigger leagues, our regular season ends in January, while for others, it usually runs until late March or early April. Anyway, we're optimistic about making it to the playoffs and we train hard every day for it. When I come into the rink on Monday morning, four days before the big game, I find a note in my locker.

Meet me tonight at nine in the VIP area of the ice rink. And, Caleb, not a word to anyone!

T.

T? Who could that be? Toby, Thornton, or Terry, the guy from the souvenir shop? These note-passing games bother me. If any of them wants something from me, they should come out and say it. I crumple the note and toss it back in the locker. My mood today is downright dismal. Jess spent the morning bawling her eyes out because I turned her down again. Dealing with her is becoming a proper chore. To blow off some steam, I hit the gym hard. Afterward, I let Maxwell work out the knots. I'll give it to him, he's the best sports masseur we've ever had. Yet every time I lie on that table, I wish I were in the next room with Emma. Once, I caught myself holding my breath, listening, thinking I heard her voice. Knowing that Parker and Durand are still running their bet gnaws at me. Someone needs to clue Emma in. I'm even more convinced of this when I find out at afternoon practice that she recently agreed to go on dates with both of them. She went to the movies with Parker and Durand took her to some fancy restaurant.

“This day's been a right washout,” I grumble to myself as I step into the shower afterward. I hear Parker in the locker next to mine, cheerfully whistling away. I'd love to shove the soap down his throat. And Durand, that smug asshole; someone ought to wipe that superior grin off his face. A wave of anger courses through my veins, making me slam my fist against the tile wall. I can't recall ever feeling so helpless. Emma doesn't deserve to be part of this damned bet. I wonder why Toby, her oh-so-good friend, doesn't set her straight. Why does he let this whole mess continue? Toby... the note in my locker springs back to mind. Suddenly, I'm burning with curiosity about who it's from. I decide to go and find out. If it's actually from Toby, I'll bring up the Emma situation with him. Since I'm not keen on experiencing another fresh Jessica drama, I kill the hour and a half at the rink. Grab some grub and exchange a few words with Terry, who's sprucing up his souvenir shop for the next game. I can confirm, the message isn't from him. He's in a rush, it's his wife's birthday, and he's taking her out.

At nine sharp, I find myself in the VIP area. I'm clearly not the only one who got a note. The entire team is here, save a few exceptions. Toby announces that he's the brains behind this gathering and motions for silence. I join him and cast a glance down at the empty ice below.

“What's all this then?” I ask, and the Swiss lad clamps his mitt over my mouth.

“Ssh, don't ruin it. We've got to be dead quiet,” he hisses, his snowy brows knitted tight. “Alright, everyone come closer. But for God's sake, keep it hushed.” He beckons the others up to the glass barrier at chest height. The VIP area is like a raised terrace, giving us the perfect view of the ice. Then Toby whips out his phone and dials a number. “We're ready. Let the show begin,” he whispers, and all the lights in the arena go out. It's pitch-black for a moment until a blinding spotlight carves through the darkness. It zeroes in on the player's bench, where a woman in a beige winter coat and a white bobble hat steps out. It's Emma. She's wearing skates and glides onto the middle of the ice, followed by the beam of light. There, she stops and waits.

“What's she doing?” I whisper to the goalie.

“Just wait,” he replies with a grin, aiming his phone camera at our masseuse and hitting record. I furrow my brow, gazing back down at the ice, and spot a figure approaching Emma. It's Durand. His face still wears that bloody smug expression. Emma lets him kiss her on the cheek, and it boils my blood. Just as I'm about to ask Toby what the hell this is and if the idiot is proposing to her, a second figure appears. It's Parker.

“Now, you all need to be dead quiet and watch closely,” the goalie breathes to us.

“What's this about, what's he doing here?” we hear Durand ask. But Emma ignores the Canadian, lets my mate give her a peck on the cheek, and hands each of them a hand. Now Parker says something, but unfortunately, we can't make it out, he's too soft-spoken.

“Both of you are truly unique men,” Emma declares loudly enough for us up here to hear clearly. Her gaze goes from Parker to Durand and back again. I'm too far away to read my two teammates' expressions, but I don't need to, their body language gives away their uncertainty. “No one has gone to such lengths for me,” Emma continues, “and honestly, at first, I felt almost honored. Two handsome men like you, refusing to take no for an answer because you're so determined to win me over.”

---