Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(108)

I glance down at the Jack and Coke, or what’s left of it, anyway. I nod. Why the hell not? I’m not going anywhere else tonight except up to my room. I might as well drink until I feel no pain.

Something has to stop this ache that has consumed me.

I’ve purposely not mentioned James’s name to Ellie because I don’t want to know the details. I don’t want her to tell me that she called him or went to see him or, worse, let Bianca meet him. I prefer to be blessedly ignorant in that regard. But then I spend all my time wondering if she called him or went to see him or, worse, let Bianca meet him. It’s a no-win situation. Not knowing hurts as much as knowing.

Why the f*ck did this guy have to show up now? Just when things are getting good. What if Ellie falls in love with him? Or even if she simply wants to be with him so they can raise Bianca together. Where the f*ck does that leave me?

“Here you go.” The Jack and Coke appears in front of me. “This one’s on the house.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, wishing I could appear more appreciative.

Right now, I simply don’t have it in me.

Meanwhile, in hockey news…

“Jim, are you as baffled as I am? I’m not sure exactly what happened out there tonight. This Arrows team certainly isn’t the one that came roaring out of the gate at the beginning of the season.”

“I completely agree, Ed. Look back at the highlights from the net tonight. Rush looked like a rookie out there.”

“You’re right, Jim. Nothing like the seasoned goaltender we know him to be. I’d be tempted to say he looks a lot like he did at the end of last season.”

“He was all over the place. Three goals on him and I guarantee you, all three of those he would want to give back.”

“Those were the types of goals, Jim, that a net minder gets ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. Never fail. Yet tonight…”

“It was like he wasn’t even there, Ed. Not even there. I don’t know why Moen kept him in the game.”

“I don’t know, Jim. The Arrows are going to have to ramp it up if they want to make it to the postseason this year. A couple of bad games won’t do any damage, but they can’t let it get out of control. That’s what happened to them for the past two years. I only hope Moen’s keeping his thumb on these guys. They’ve got a solid team, but a few more games like this… They’ll be right back where they were last year.”



Ellie: Rough night. I watched at the bar. No one was happy with the calls. Some were bad, some were just stupid. Wanted you to know I was thinking about you.

Kingston: Yep. One of those nights.

Ellie: You doing okay?

Kingston: Fine.

Ellie: Okay… Well, if you want to talk, you know where to find me.





44


Ellie


Saturday, December 17th I don’t know why I chose not to meet James at the Penalty Box. He offered after he told me he had been looking at my Facebook profile and knows where I work. For some reason I don’t want to be there. Not for our first face-to-face conversation since the day we unknowingly created our daughter. I know Noelle would be too curious and probably Julie, as well. On top of that, a lot of the customers know me. If things go sideways, that’s the last place I want to be.

Which is why I’m currently walking through Lakeline Mall, past Pac Sun and American Eagle as I make my way toward the food court, where we agreed to meet. The scent drifting from Auntie Anne’s has me suddenly craving a cinnamon pretzel.

Nope. Never mind. The mere thought has my stomach churning, my nerves stealing my hunger.

I feel like I’m meeting this man for the first time. Hell, I don’t even remember much about what he looks like. It’s been so long, and that single night is fuzzy thanks to all of the birthdays, play-offs, Thanksgivings, and Christmases that have passed. Not to mention the teething, the first day of kindergarten, the first dance, and yes, even the first pink hair.

But since this man, who is claiming to be my daughter’s father, said he was interested in talking to me, I know I can’t ignore him indefinitely. I did, however, manage to put James off for an entire week. I finally mustered up the nerve and called him last Saturday. We talked only briefly, and I told him I’d be willing to meet with him on Saturday. Today. He said that worked perfectly because he would be able to get a flight into Austin later in the week. I didn’t bother to ask him what he does for a living, or where he lives, but obviously he doesn’t live here. I’m not sure why I thought he would. We met in Las Vegas.

So, while I counted down the days, I had some time to think, to mull things over, to figure out what I’ll say to him when I see him for the first time after thirteen years.

Surprisingly, he hasn’t tried to rush me. We even exchanged a few text messages. Most of them were him texting to see if I was okay. For some reason, he thinks this is going to be hard on me.

He’s right. It is. I can’t imagine what it’s like for him.

And I’m nervous. The kind of nervous that makes your hands sweat and your stomach flutter. I feel something in my chest. It’s kind of hollow. With an echo. From all that damn fluttering going on.

I pass by a kiosk bedazzled with jewelry, another with cute cartoonish-looking signs with people’s names on them, then stop as I approach the food court. My heart is beating a mile a second, and I’m starting to feel dizzy.