Hockey Holidays Read online

  It didn't matter that they weren't together, hadn't been together for five years. He tried to imagine how his escapades must make her feel, then immediately regretted it. It didn't take much imagination, not when he knew exactly how he felt, just thinking of the possibility of Chloe with someone else.

  Rage. Pain.

  He rolled out of bed, reached for the pair of sweatpants tossed over the small chair and yanked them on. Thinking about the past wasn't helping, not when there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

  Not when there was too much he had to do now, right here. In the present.

  Shane made his way upstairs, automatically following the scent of sizzling bacon and strong coffee. Aunt Liz and Uncle Charles were already in the kitchen, sitting at the granite-topped island. Uncle Charles offered him a quiet grunt and went back to reading his paper—perfectly normal behavior for his uncle.

  But the wide smile Aunt Liz gave him was anything but normal. Shane stumbled to a halt, frowning, then slowly made his way to the coffee pot.

  "How was the party last night, dear?"

  Shane took a long sip of the strong brew, studying his aunt over the rim of the mug. She watched him, that bright smile still on her face, completely ignoring his bruised face.

  "It was—" He wanted to say it was a disaster, that he should have never gone. But there was something about the way Aunt Liz was regarding him that stopped him. "It was fine."

  "Just fine? Did you and Wyatt finally patch things up?"

  "No, Aunt Liz. Not even close."

  Her smile faltered and died. Her gaze shot to the bruises on his face then darted back to his. "Are you sure? I thought—well, never mind. But things are fine with you and Chloe now, right?"

  Shane wrapped his second hand around the mug, afraid he'd drop it if he didn't. Hell, he might still drop it. There was something about the knowing look in his aunt's eyes, something about the smile that she was trying so hard to hide.

  Had she heard them? Did she somehow know Chloe had been here?

  Heat filled his face and he quickly raised the mug to his mouth, hoping to hide his furious blush. "It's, uh, it's complicated."

  "But I thought—"

  "Liz, let it go." Uncle Charles folded the paper and placed it next to his empty plate. He shot Shane a warning look from beneath thick gray brows—a look that told him his aunt and uncle both knew that Chloe had been here last night.

  Shane lowered his gaze, mortification sweeping over him. Shit. Shit, fuck, shit. He wanted to come up with some kind of excuse, make up some asinine reason to explain Chloe's late-night presence, but his mind was completely blank. There was absolutely nothing he could say, no excuse he could give.

  Until his uncle spoke again, changing the subject and giving him an easy out. "What did you have planned for today? Any visits you need to make before dinner?"

  "Uh, yeah. Yeah, actually, there is." He pushed away from the counter, the ghost of an idea forming in his mind. He'd been thinking about it all night—at least, before Chloe had shown up. And maybe Chloe being here had acted as the catalyst he needed. Maybe simply being with her was what he needed in order to know what to do.

  "I'm going back to see Wyatt. We still have some talking to do."

  Uncle Charles grunted and Aunt Liz smiled—another bright smile that made Shane pause and wonder how much she really knew.

  "I think that's a wonderful idea, dear. You can take Natalie's towel back while you're at it. Try not to bloody another one when you and Wyatt have your talk."

  Chapter Eight

  "Shane! I didn't expect to see you this morning." Mrs. Hunter opened the door wider, inviting him inside. "Let me call Chloe—"

  "I'm not here to see Chloe. I'm here to see Wyatt."

  The surprise on Mrs. Hunter's face matched the surprise running through him. Shane held his breath, not daring to move from the foyer. He still wasn't sure what made him come here this morning. Still wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish.

  For all he knew, he wouldn't even get the chance to talk to Wyatt. After last night, there was a very real chance that Mrs. Hunter would push him out the door and tell him to never come back. What would he do if she did that?

  What would he do if she didn't?

  Several long seconds passed, the silence filled with the sound of a holiday show drifting from the family room. It was Christmas Eve and he was intruding on their family brunch. Mr. Hunter would be in the family room, swearing under his breath as he put the finishing touches on the tree. Chloe and Wyatt would be in there with him, watching television as they teased their father. Asking if he wanted help, knowing he'd say no.

  At least, that's how they used to celebrate Christmas Eve. Shane had been part of it, all those years ago, hiding his own smile as Mr. Hunter fought with tangled strings of lights. Things could have changed in the last five years. So many other things had, why should this tradition remain untouched?

  The hug Mrs. Hunter gave him jolted him back to the present. Surprise made him hesitate, giving him barely enough time to awkwardly pat her on the back as she pulled away.

  "Wyatt's in the family room, staying out of Don's way while he fiddles with those stupid lights of his." Mrs. Hunter wrapped a hand around Shane's arm, holding onto him like she was afraid he'd run away. She tugged, leading him into the large room, empty of the crowd from last night.

  Chloe saw him first. Her eyes widened in brief surprise then a smile curled the corners of her mouth. She unfolded her legs and started to stand when Mrs. Hunter finally spoke.

  "Wyatt, Shane is here to see you."

  The surprise in Chloe's eyes changed, turning to curiosity. There was still surprise there, too, but a different kind. A surprise filled with silent question.

  Filled with hope.

  Wyatt's eyes—identical to his sister's—were filled with anything but hope. Wariness. Anger. Trepidation. His mouth thinned as color rose high on his cheeks and he narrowed his eyes at Shane, sending him a silent message.

  Go away. You're not wanted here.

  Shane heard the message loud and clear, answered with one of his own.

  Too fucking bad.

  "Don, give the lights a rest and help me in the kitchen."

  "I thought you didn't need my help."

  "I do now." Mrs. Hunter leveled a pointed gaze at her husband, some kind of silent communication passing between them. Mr. Hunter frowned, looked at Wyatt then at Shane, then finally nodded. He dropped the tangled strand of lights and started to leave the room. He paused, giving Shane a small nod, then turned to Chloe.

  "Chloe, come on. Your mother needs our help in the kitchen."

  "But—"

  "No buts."

  Chloe pulled her lower lip between her teeth, staring first at Wyatt then at Shane. He saw the worry in her green gaze, felt her hesitation before she finally stood. She brushed past him, pausing long enough to reach down and squeeze his hand before following her parents from the room.

  Silence appeared in their wake. Thick. Oppressive. Wyatt stood, took two steps toward him, stopped. His gaze didn't quite meet Shane's when he finally spoke.

  "What the fuck do you want?"

  "I came to apologize."

  "Yeah? For what?"

  "Everything. The accident. What happened after. For not sticking around when I knew you needed me."

  Surprise flickered in the depths of his former friend's eyes. Wyatt looked away, the color on his cheeks deepening as he sucked in a deep breath. Held it. Let it out in a rush.

  "Fine. Whatever. Now get the fuck out."

  The answer didn't surprise Shane. He'd expected it, had anticipated it. He took another step closer, bit back a cold smile when Wyatt's back went rigid. "That's not the only reason I'm here. I came to give you something."

  Wyatt frowned, cautious tension radiating from him. "What?"

  "This." Shane curled his fist and swung, clipping Wyatt on the jaw. The other man stumbled back with a grunt, holding his hand agains