Page 79 of Ice Mechanic

We both crane our necks to get a better look.

I immediately notice the Lucky Strikers jerseys. With their cool confidence, fancy jackets, and towering height, the hockey players are hard to miss.

“Gunner’s here,” I point him out to Rebel.

As expected, her eyes go dark and she scowls. Suddenly, her expression clears and she points, “I think that’s Chance.”

“Chance isn’t here.”

“Are you sure?”

“He would have texted me if he was back,” I say confidently.

I felt awkward around Chance after Derek’s comments in the nursing home. It was my intention to avoid him until absolutely necessary. However, Chance texted me while he was away, and it felt rude not to answer. Then eventually, I started looking forward to answering.

We’ve texted every day since. We don’t talk for long, since we’re both pretty busy, but Iknowhe would have let me know if he was here.

“No, April.” Rebel’s somber gaze makes me uneasy. “It really is him.”

I look over just as Chance tosses a dart and hits the bulls eye. A cheer erupts from the crowd and, suddenly, a tall, gorgeous woman with the most magazine-worthy curves and shampoo-commercial hair throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

My heart wrenches in my chest and I spin back around as if I caught my mom and dad kissing.

Rebel looks furious. “Why didn’t he tell you he was back? And who’s that girl?” She smacks her hand on the bar and scrambles to her feet. “I’m going over there.”

“No.” I pull her down.

“But, Chance, he?—”

“He what?” I meet her gaze desperately, ignoring the pain gushing through my heart. “Needs to report his every move to me? Can’t hang out with other women? He’s not my real boyfriend, remember?”

“Then why do you look so upset?” Rebel asks.

“I’m not.” I slither off the bar stool. “It’s too loud in here and I need to get back to work.”

“April…”

“I’ll wait for you in the car.”

Hurrying out of The Tipsy Tuna, I tell myself I’m being foolish. Why am I in pain when I meant every word I said to Rebel?

Chance owes me nothing.

He and I are barely friends.

At best, we’re co-workers.

It doesn’t matter to me if he didn’t tell me he was in town. It doesn’t matter if he finds that girl more attractive than me. It doesn’t even matter if he goes home with her tonight.

It means nothing at all.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

CHANCE

The scent of sweat, iron and wet mats fill my nostrils. I push the weights higher, holding the bar up until my face turns red. With an exhale, I bring it down to my chest and push up again.

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