The Best Kind of Forever (Riverside Reapers, #1)(20)

I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to look up before I suffer a face-smashing courtesy of The Incredible Hulk, and my eyes gridlock with a pair of mocha-colored ones that I would recognize anywhere.

“Aeris?”

But before I can double-confirm it’s her, an overwhelming pain cocoons my entire body. My vision comes in tides, and my muscles groan from the force of the collision. God, I forgot how much it hurt to be bitch-punted into the boards.

What is she doing here? Aeris didn’t strike me as a sports fan, much less a hockey fan. I texted her back before I left the locker room, but I don’t know if she saw it yet. The timing of my responses could definitely use some work.

I don’t know why I expected to keep my day job a secret from her. Of course she was going to find out. It’s kind of hard not to, especially since Riverside prides itself on its hockey team.

The third period goes by in a flash, and before I know it, the Caracals have evened the score. It’s 2-2 now. We’re down to the last five minutes. Whoever scores the next goal wins, and I’m determined to end the night on a high note.

Anticipation wrestles with my guts and ties them into ribbons. Bristol has the puck, but he’s flanked on either side by red and white jerseys, and he’s a second away from getting kebabbed. He flings the puck in my direction, and I dance around with it before ultimately deciding to pass it to Casen. Relief funnels through me when Casen gains some distance, nearing the Caracal’s goal. There’s a swarm of players on his tail, and if he doesn’t make this goal, there won’t be enough time for a redo.

I bend over, dropping my gloved hands to my knees, squinting through a sheen of sweat. Casen’s silhouette dwindles to a six-inch-tall version of him, and I see the goal lights flash red just as the buzzer signals the end of the game.

We won. My teammates hightail it over to Casen, pumping their sticks in the air and roaring their superiority over the opposing team. I should be over the moon, but I haven’t even lifted off the ground. Something—or someone—is preventing me from riding out my postgame high.





The cold outside is no match for the blizzard in my chest. The air shrouds my arms, raising hair and gooseflesh in its wake. The crescent moon blocks out all light from the nursery of stars in the sky, with only the haze from the high-power lamps to guide me through the endless dark.

I need to find Aeris. Why is she here? When I told her who I was, she didn’t seem to have any idea I played hockey. And now, out of nowhere, she shows up to the one place I least expected to see her. Did she know who I was this entire time? Was she putting on a show?

My teammates are probably already at Beer Comes Trouble—the bar we always hit up after games. The place is teeming with puck bunnies, and I’ve been grateful for the easy accessibility a few nights in particular. But the last thing on my mind right now is celebrating.

I’ve been pacing back and forth for twenty minutes in this damn parking lot trying to catch Aeris. I’ve texted her ten times telling her we need to talk.

My phone dings, but when I open it, the incoming message isn’t from Aeris.

DAD: Good game, son. Can we talk?

Can we talk? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I don’t hear from my father in months, and suddenly he’s trying to play nice with me? What’s next, we’re having brunch together and holding hands as we skip off into the sunset? I’d rather have my prostate exam performed by Wolverine.

Frustration balloons inside of me, and I stab aggressively at the keyboard.

ME: Not a good idea.

DAD: Please, Hayes. I just need five minutes.

ME: You don’t deserve five minutes.

DAD: I know I messed up, but I want to make things right between us.

Hatred threatens to drag me to the cusp of no return and throw me down a dark, bottomless pit. The adrenaline inside of me is amplifying my desire to pelt the concrete with my phone, but this is the third one I’ve bought this year, and I don’t want to waste any more money. And yes, if you were wondering, all three times were in response to something idiotic my father said.

ME: Why now? After all this time?

DAD: I don’t want to waste any more time where we aren’t a family again. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize it, I know. One more chance. If you give me that, and I can’t earn your trust back, you’ll never hear from me again.

Without another thought, I pocket my phone. I can’t deal with my father and Aeris right now.

Speaking of Aeris, I manage to catch sight of her chestnut waves swinging behind her like a pendulum as she exits the parking lot. I push my way past some straggling families coming out of the game, and my long legs carry me over to her in two strides.

Jesus, I forget how small she is. Not just compared to me. Her blond friend has at least seven inches on her, and that’s probably without the heels. She’s smiling at something her friend must’ve said before she’s struck shellshocked at the sight of me.

“Did you know?” I ask, trying to catalogue the emotion passing through her. I’ve already learned that she isn’t the best at hiding how she’s feeling, which can be both a blessing and a curse.

“Excuse me?” An iciness lurks under the surface of her tone.

“Did you know who I was?” I repeat, irritation blistering behind my eyes, a searing sensation shooting through me like a five-alarm fire.