Page 87 of Icing Hearts

Vince is three rooms over. The only people who know where I sleep each night are Coach Anderson—oddly—and Clover.

“I wonder if Clover thinks it’s weird that I stay with you every night,” I muse to Tory as we lounge by the pool with a few of his buddies from other teams. They’ve been going to the same summer hockey camps and played each other for years, so he’s been happy to reconnect with them.

The sun is high and hot, despite being fairly early in the season. But it warms me to my bones, and I soak in the much-needed vitamin D that will be in short supply in Minnesota for another four months.

He turns to me. “She doesn’t. She’s hooking up with a goalie from Texas. I think she’s got a thing for goalies.”

“Goalies and right wingers, apparently.”

“Hey!”

“How do you know she’s been hooking up with someone?”

“When I went to your room to check your makeup color, she was in there sleeping with a guy.”

“Did she see you?”

“Yup. She gave me the finger and shoved him when he said hi to me. I’ve seen him around. He’s crazy. Most goalies are.”

“You’re such a little gossip.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“That’s it. You’re going in.”

“Victory Amato, you better not!”

“Dang, pulling out the full name. Better watch out, Larsen.”

“Make me,” I call after him as he tackles one of his buddies into the pool.

Soon after, I hear, “Clare Bear!” across the courtyard. Vince strides up, covered in sand with a towel around his shoulders. The girl from one of the other teams trails behind him.

Tory gives Vince a head nod and eyes us warily but stays in the pool.

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week.” He plops down on the lounge chair by my knees.

“I’ve been around. We’ll catch up when we get back home. It’s been a busy week.” I give him an authentic smile. I still like Vince. I really do. He’s sweet and irreverent and there are pros to that.

But he’s not Tory.

That night, after the balcony parties and the echoes of people screaming “Happy New Year!” subside, Tory and I lay in bed with the lights low.

We’re nearly nose to nose, and I fight not to get lost in those endless brown eyes.

“So, for when we get back home—”

“I have a plan,” he jumps in.

“What is it?”

“Clara, you’ll probably fight me on this, but it’s nonnegotiable. I have to talk to the chief, especially after Coach called him.”

“And say what?”

“I need to inform him of what will happen if he ever puts his hands on you again. Obviously, I don’t want you anywhere near him, but you refuse to move in with me.”

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