It Had to Be You (Christiansen Family) (18 page)

Eden saw her mother glance at Tiger. “Owen, he wants to help
 
—”

But he advanced on Eden. “No, he doesn’t. Have you seen his games? He thinks he’s going to be the star now. He’s not here to help me
 
—he’s here to make sure that I don’t come back.”

“Owen!” their mother said.

Owen ignored her. “I want to understand how, after everything, you can switch alliances so easily. I guess any old hockey player will do?”

“Owen!” Eden wasn’t sure if she or her mother called his name louder.

He didn’t look at their mother, his gaze hot on Eden. His good eye was red, cracked, his lips chapped. He looked thinner, but he hadn’t worked out for over a week, so maybe he was losing some of his tone. “No, Mom, it’s true. She loves it
 
—hanging around the guys, making sure I stay out of trouble. She just can’t wait until I call her to show up and save the day, can you, Sis?”

He turned to Ingrid, hands over his chest. “Or didn’t she tell you? How she dragged me out of a bar last week? Maybe she also left out the part where I bring home a different rink bunny after every game
 
—”

“That’s enough!” Ingrid glanced at Tiger, who was watching them, his eyes wide. “Eden isn’t responsible for your bad behavior. And I’d appreciate it if you would keep your voice down!”

“Then what is she good for? Because the last time I looked, she was still living in a tiny apartment, writing obits, taking the bus
to work. Her only life is
my
life. She’s no one without me. And now that it’s over, she’s latched herself to someone else. Some other superstar, just itching to take my place.”

The words slid through Eden like a blade.

“Let’s see. How many goals did J-Hammer make in the last two games?”

“Three and one assist.” The voice came from behind Owen as Jace walked into the room, large and angry, his eyes steel. “That’s enough.”

“Really, dude?” Owen rounded on him, holding his arms open. “Why are you here, anyway?” As he advanced on Jace, Ingrid whisked Tiger from the room. “What
 
—do you think Eden’s some sort of good-luck charm? So what you made a couple goals. It was luck, not talent.
I’m
the talent. You’re just the entertainment.”

Eden watched Jace. He seemed to be reaching deep not to lash out.

Please don’t hit Jace.

The thought stopped her. Made her glance at Owen. She was more worried about Owen’s behavior than Jace’s.

Still, Jace looked like he might just charge, push Owen into a corner, remind him he was still a punk kid with a stupid mouth.

“Jace,” she said softly.

He looked at her, and his gaze softened. “Eden, I got this.” He turned back to Owen. “I’m here because your sister invited me, and I came to see if I could . . . I don’t know, cheer you up.”

“Oh yeah. I’m really cheered watching you steal my career. And even better, drool over my sister? Don’t tell me you’re not into her.”

Jace’s mouth twitched. “Eden and I are just friends.”

Yes. Of course. Then why did she have the urge to put a hand to her chest, maybe cover what felt like a gaping wound?

“Right,” Owen drawled, something awkward and ugly in his broken face. “I know about you and your collection of
friends
. What number is Eden?”

Jace did advance then, grabbing him by his shirt. “You shut your mouth. She’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and you’re about the most ungrateful piece of
 
—”

“Mr. Jacobsen, could I have a word?”

Eden hadn’t realized it, but her father had come into the house, followed by Darek.

John stepped forward and repeated himself. “Just one moment of your time.”

Jace bristled, and the look he gave her made Eden want to cry. Like he’d been caught bullying the first graders.

“Dad
 
—”

“It’s okay, Eden,” John said, putting his hand on Jace’s arm.

Darek came around the other side. “Owen, you come with me,” he said.

Jace’s jaw tightened, but he let Owen go. Stepped away. He kept his voice low. “I’m not trying to take your place, Owen. And you don’t need both eyes to see that.”

Then he turned and walked out, John behind him.

Owen shot Eden a glare, but Darek grabbed his arm. “Bro, you owe Eden an apology.”

Owen shook himself out of his brother’s grasp. “Whatever. She’s the one who brought him here. Maybe she needs to apologize to me.”

J
ACE WALKED OUT OF THE HOUSE,
the fury in his chest alive, ricocheting through him.

He wanted to hit something, hard.

He should probably thank Eden’s father for pulling him away, even if it might be to ask him to leave.

John walked him onto the deck, where the sun had begun to settle beyond the trees.

Jace drew in a long breath of cool air. “I’m sorry, sir. You need to know that I wouldn’t have hurt
 
—”

“I know.”

The snow crunched under his feet as he stalked to the edge of the deck, his hands shoved into his pockets. “I just . . . Owen said some awful things about Eden, and I . . .” He shook his head. “He shouldn’t have.”

“I know.” John brushed snow from the picnic table and climbed onto it, facing the lake. “My son is hurting badly, and frankly, he might be right. Bringing you up here this weekend only pours salt into his wounds.”

“I was trying to help.” Jace leaned on the deck railing. Across the water, a string of log-framed mansions lined the shore.

“You know most of our place burned down last summer. I would sit here every day, staring across the lake at all that lush, green timber, at the houses still intact, and think . . . why?”

“It’s a reasonable question. Why wasn’t your place spared?”

“No. Why
was
it spared? See this lodge?”

Jace turned as John gestured behind him.

“It didn’t burn. We still had our home. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Why were we so special? North of here, hundreds of homes burned, but ours was chosen to survive.”

“But your land
 
—it’s destroyed.”

“Yeah. So we get the good with the bad. We have to sort the blessings from the ashes. And that’s what Owen must do. Right now he sees only the ashes of his life. We have to give him time to see what remains. Discover what was seeded in the fire.”

Jace came over to the table and sat next to John, bracing his elbows on his legs. He stared at his hands, opening, closing. Imagining too easily how it might have felt to put his fist in Owen’s face. Make him shut his mouth.

I’m
the talent. You’re just the entertainment.
Yeah, well, those words had bounced right off him. It was Owen’s insinuation about Eden that dug in, pushed his buttons.

“I don’t like it when someone
 
—anyone
 
—speaks like that about a woman.” He looked away. “But you were right to step in. I’m sorry. I’ll leave today.”

“I don’t want you to leave, Jace.
You
were right, and Owen probably deserved
 
—even needed
 
—to be confronted. But I can’t have a brawl in my living room. And not with my son, who doesn’t understand why his life is unraveling.”

“I understand. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. . . . I guess I just stopped thinking.”

John was silent beside him. The wind caught Jace’s collar, trickled down his spine.

After a moment, John said, “You don’t know me that well, so you don’t know that I love football. I am not sure how I ended up with hockey players. I played for the University of Minnesota, defensive end. And wow, I loved tackling. Best day of my life was sixth grade when I started playing tackle football. Just taking my opponent out, right off his feet.”

Jace nodded.

“I’ll never forget the day in high school when Coach moved me to noseguard. I hadn’t a clue what to do at nose and got trampled on. Over and over. I worked up a good ball of steam inside. Then they threw in a play that I knew
 
—it was straight off the snap, a dive at the center’s legs. Supposed to slow down the quarterback sneak.”

Jace knew just enough football to keep up, but the old man was losing him.

“I dove as hard as I could and took the center down. And that’s when I heard the crack. I’d broken both his legs.”

Jace’s mouth opened, just enough for John to nod.

“I know. I felt sick. I stood over the guy, the stands silent, and I realized something . . . I didn’t like tackling because it made me feel powerful, although I’m sure that was part of it. I liked tackling because the fans cheered a good, clean tackle. I liked the applause.”

Jace stilled.

“I watched your last game, Jace. You do have talent. Your slap shot could be legendary. Owen is angry, and most of all, he doesn’t speak the truth. You’re more than entertainment. You’re the real deal. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

For some stupid, idiotic reason, Jace’s eyes filled. He looked away, blinking.

“Please stay, Jace.” John got up, pressed his hand to Jace’s shoulder. “My daughter invited you, and you are welcome here. Owen is going to have to get used to that.”

Jace couldn’t look at John as he walked away. He sat there in the quietness of the late afternoon, listening to the wind shift, letting his eyes dry.

“Jace?”

Eden came around in front of him, dressed in her parka, wearing fat woolen mittens along with her green hat, and handed him his coat. “C’mon. I want to show you something.”

He wanted to apologize for Owen’s words, but she took his hand, eased him off the table, around the back of the house to a small shed. She opened it and pulled out a long toboggan. “Grab the other end.”

He helped her carry it to an older-model F-150 pickup truck with the words
Evergreen Lodge Outfitter and Cabin Rentals
painted on the side. They loaded the toboggan in the back; then Eden got into the driver’s seat. It dwarfed her as she worked the gas and fired up the engine. She turned to him, her eyes bright. “Trust me.”

Jace got into the passenger seat and hung on as she backed out and took the dirt road toward town.

Silence pulsed between them, and he wanted to ease it, say something, but the fight with Owen seemed like a wedge.

Finally Eden said, “When I was a kid, and the winters grew long, and my mom wanted to kill us, my dad would take us to Honeymoon Bluff. It’s a giant sledding hill outside town. He’d sit on the back of the toboggan and line us up in front of him. Then we’d hold on to his legs, and he’d wrap his arms around us
 
—as many as he could
 
—and we’d fly down the hill together.”

“All six of you?”

She glanced at him. “We were little. But yeah, he’d pack us all in together. Our fates locked. I remember hiding my face in Darek’s jacket
 
—he was always in front
 
—and the snow would get into the collar of my coat, down my back. We’d usually crash at the bottom, and all of us would fly off, eat some snow, laugh until we cried.”

He could see her as a little girl, laughing as she sprawled in the snow, her eyelashes glistening.

When they reached town, she pulled into the campground, then drove to the park at the far end, parking next to a well-packed trail into the woods. She got out and reached for the toboggan, but he grabbed it first, setting it on the ground and retrieving the rope.

“Follow me,” she said.

Don’t lose her.
The thought pulsed in his brain.

He followed her into the woods, the arms of the evergreen thick and bushy, snow whisking off in crystalline puffs of fairy dust. They came into a clearing about halfway up a giant hill.

“It’s a hike, but it’s worth it.” Eden started up the hill again.

Jace fell in behind her, his breath forming in the air, the sweet chill of winter nipping his lungs. He should find some skates, see if he could slap a puck around.

“This is my favorite part,” she said, standing at the apex of the hill and holding out her arms.

He joined her, turning to the view. Lake Superior stretched out as far as he could see, almost lavender under a sky surrendering to shades of periwinkle and magenta, ice floating near the shore like diamonds on the surface. Snow frosted the rocky shoreline, and the birch shadows stretched fingers across the sledding hill, as if beckoning them to brave it, to fling themselves into the abyss, toward the mysteries pooling at the bottom.

And Eden. Standing in the center of it all, her arms outstretched, eyes closed. Drinking it in.

Yes, this might be his favorite part also.

She opened her eyes, and he looked away before she caught him staring.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Um
 
—”

“C’mon, don’t be afraid.”

“It’s not that. It’s just . . . Don’t tell Coach or I’ll be in big trouble. I’m not supposed to do anything dangerous
 
—”

“Besides play hockey.”

“Right.”

“Fear not, little prince, I’ll protect you,” she said.

He gave a laugh, and her green eyes twinkled as she grabbed the sled, positioned it at the top of the hill. “Get on.”

Jace climbed onto the back, holding the ropes on the side. Then he made room for Eden, and she tucked herself in front of him, looping her hands around his legs. “You hold on to the toboggan, and I’ll hold on to you. Don’t let go!”

Never.
The word rose inside him, but he shook it away. “Got it.”

“Okay!” She pushed them forward, moving her body, and he helped
 
—and then the hill took them.

Slow at first, until the momentum and weight of the sled
combined to rush them down the slope, the wind burning their cheeks, the snow cutting in front of the toboggan, pinging against his skin. Eden screamed, something high and light, and he felt it deep inside his chest.

And then, near the bottom, the slope curved upward, and suddenly they went airborne.

Jace let go of the sled, feeling Eden rise out of the pocket of his legs, and grabbed her around the waist.

Then they landed, and the toboggan bounced out from beneath them. They flew off, Jace still holding Eden to himself, and skidded into the snow.

She landed in his arms, Jace on his back, staring at the sky, adrenaline rippling through his veins.

Then he heard giggling. Bright and delicious. Eden rolled onto her side, facing him. “Are you okay?”

Still lying flat, he glanced at her. “Yeah.”

“See? Fun.”

Maybe, but better were her smile, her shining eyes, the sparkle of snow on her face.

Oh, she was pretty. The kind of natural pretty that didn’t take layers of makeup to achieve. The kind of pretty a guy wouldn’t get tired of, that he might want to wake up to every day.

Owen was right. Too right.

Jace’s breath caught.

“You ready to go again?”

He closed his eyes. “Maybe we could stay here a moment.” Just enough to get his head right. To stop thinking about pulling her down into his arms, then rolling her into the snow and kissing her.

“Sure.” She lay back, and the next thing he heard was the sound of her parka brushing the surface of the snow.

He looked over to see her arms and legs moving. “What are you doing?”

“Making a snow angel. C’mon. Make an angel.”

“I . . .”

“Don’t you know how?”

He did. But his voice had vanished, his throat closed.

“Jace, what’s the matter?” She’d sat up and scooted over to him. “Are you hurt?”

Wow. What was it about this day that seemed to find all the embedded shrapnel in his heart? “No. It’s just . . . a memory. My mom . . . she liked to make snow angels.”

Eden put her mittened hand on his arm.

And that helped somehow, enough for the words to emerge. “When I was about eight years old, she came home from work one night and pulled me right out of bed. Made me throw on my boots and my coat and dragged me outside. It had snowed since I came home from school, and you know how, after a snow, the sky glows orange? It was like a spotlight shone down on us. We lived in this rental house a ways out of town, and it had this little backyard. We tromped out into the middle of it
 
—I remember the snow being nearly up to my knees. And then we just plopped down and made angels.”

He could almost feel the snow digging down his frayed parka, hear his mother’s laughter. “She had this way of finding the best in life, pulling it out, making it special. I never knew, at the time, what it cost her to keep me in hockey
 
—it’s so expensive, you know? She worked double shifts and way too many late nights. But she always showed up for the important stuff. Like games and practices . . .”

“And snow angels.”

He nodded. Swallowed hard. “My mom was a cocktail waitress. And . . . well, I don’t want to know what else, but the fact is, she wasn’t your typical PTA mom.”

Eden didn’t even flinch. And then he remembered
 
—she’d probably read all that in the newspaper when they scandalized his mother’s life right before her death. He wanted to turn away, but Eden had a grip on his arm.

“Your mom sounds like she loved you very much.”

Jace sat up, brushed the snow off himself, but she didn’t move, so he freed the words lingering inside. Small. Almost broken.

“She told me all the time that I was the best thing that ever happened to her.”

“I’m sure you were.”

He looked away and gave a rueful chuckle. “Not really. Not until I started playing professional hockey and could get her away from that life.”