Page 62 of Unmasking Love
Chapter 17
Aiden
Get A Clue
“AlrightColonel,timetoput the wig on.” Felix says as I pocket my phone. I just placed an order for Harper’s half-caf, shaken latte, with almond milk and an extra half pump of brown sugar syrup. I smile because my honey sweetened latte this morning was still too strong for her and I could see it in her face as she forced herself to drink it.
Wes told me her order and then ended it saying as long as I order whatever coffee drink didn’t taste like coffee she’d drink it.
“Is the wig really necessary?” I ask. “I’m wearing mustard from head to toe and carrying a magnifying glass. I think people will get it.”
I catch Bryson gasp in surprise. “That’s the most words I’ve ever heard strung together out of your mouth.”
“Shut up.”
“He might be exaggerating, but not by much.” Duncan adds as he re-ties the fur around his neck.
“Yes, you need the wig. The costume is Colonel Mustard, not Aiden in dark yellow.” Felix informs me as he wags the wig in front of my face.
Felix is Professor Plum in maroon pants, a purple button down, brown sweater vest and tweed jacket with purples and reds in it and elbow patches. I think he might have had it custom made.
Duncan is Miss Scarlet in a red strapless, mermaid style dress.
Crosby is Mrs. Peacock in a green iridescent ballgown and Gucci loafers.
Bryson is Mrs. White in a black dress, white apron, and grandma wig.
Emmett looks fly as fuck as Mr. Green in a emerald suit.
And I am Colonel Mustard.
The color I’m wearing reminds me of a wet post-it note. I’m glad I got Harper in bed last night because she definitely wouldn’t be attracted to me in this get up.
After I made her scrambled eggs with onion and zucchini, she slipped her skirt on and tucked the t-shirt I gave her into it before sliding on her boots. I had a tough time letting her walk out the door without sinking into her again but she insisted on getting out of my hair so I let her go. All day I’ve felt like a piece of me is missing. Like I’m incomplete.
One night together and I’m already mooning over her absence. I know it sounds pathetic but I like her. I like everything about her.
And I hate to admit it but I like that she didn’t say anything about my scar. She didn’t ask any questions about it, my heart, or whether it’s safe for me to play.
I can’t do anything without thinking I could collapse again and everything could end.
It isn’t even a thought that crosses most players' minds.
I was lucky. Believe it or not. Because when I went into sudden cardiac arrest before a game, we were at the arena closest to the hospital. Some of the games in the province were way the fuck out but this game was downtown. Its location probably made all the difference between life and…the worse case scenario.
All I remember was suiting up and starting to walk down the tunnel when everything faded to black.
The next day I woke up in the ICU. My parents told me my coach’s chest compressions kept me alive on the way to the hospital. They put me on a pump that kept my body functioning while my heart was stopped. For three hours the surgeons worked to repair an aortic valve and then they stitched me back up.
When the doctor came in and started to explain the recovery timeline I felt numb until I caught a tear roll down my dad’s cheek.
My dad was the one who got me started skating. He took me to a local high school game when I was five years old and I was hooked. I spent the entire game asking questions and trying to figure out the gameplay.
Dad got me signed up for learn-to-skate and from the very moment I stepped foot on the ice, I loved it. The glide, the way my eyes would tear up with wind whipping past my face, the cold sting of the rink.
I even loved the smell of the wet rubber.
After learn-to-skate, Dad got me into beginner hockey and even though we rotated through positions I always found myself hanging back to protect the net. The coach noticed and asked us to get some pads. The next week I suited up and when the coach sent pucks my direction I moved and blocked them.
