not right. We’re supposed to be able to protect her, keep her from hurting. Yet there’s nothing to do but be there for her. Hold her hand, make her laugh—”
“Buy her hats when her hair falls out,” Aiden cut in, a challenging glare matching his tone. “Wipe her mouth when she’s done vomiting. Tell her she’s beautiful and mean it, even though she looks like hell. Ignore the dark circles under her eyes and take her for walks when she wants them. Listen to her play that damn piano for fucking hours because it makes her happy. Pray to every fucking entity there is that she won’t die this—”
“Aiden,” Dan snapped. “Cool it.”
“Why?” He threw his shoulders back, stepping toward Dan. “It’s all true. He wanted to know what it’s like, and that’s all part of it.” He drew away, nostrils flaring in defiant righteousness. “He should know if he’s going to stick with her.” He leveled his hard glare at Henrik, challenge laid out.
The piano music taunted Henrik, stalking around the tension with a predatory intent. Jacqui’s presence was there despite her physical absence. This was real and ugly, just like cancer. Death.
He could lose her so quickly. Like Emma, Jacqui could be stolen from his life when he’d only begun to love her.
Could he do it? Was he ready to risk that much?
Cold. He was so damn cold. He hadn’t been this cold since Emma had died. Hockey had saved him then. Gave him a place to hide. A place to focus his pain without hurting anyone. Could it do it again? Would it work the same way if he lost Jacqui?
“Hey, Henrik,” Finn boomed from the stairs, his jovial voice plowing through the wall of angst that held the small group.
He flinched, jerking out of his dooming thoughts with a jolt. “What?” His voice didn’t carry, his reply lost in the noise of the room.
Finn ducked under the edge of the ceiling, scanning the room until he spotted Henrik. His wide grin faltered when he spotted them, hesitation showing before he plowed on. “Get up here. I’m guessing you can play one of these things since you have so many.” He lofted the guitar he was holding to indicate what he was talking about.
“No way,” Sparks countered, leaning on his pool stick. “Roller can barely keep his skates under him. There’s no way he can play the guitar.”
“What?” Rylie perked up, twisting around on the couch to get in on the conversation. “Roller can play the guitar? Since when?”
“That dude’s delusional.” Feeney pointed at Finn, shaking his head.
Sparks smacked him on the back. “Do you even know what that word means?”
“Fu—screw you, Sparky.”
“So are you in?” Finn cut in, grin holding. The stubborn man seemed to know more about him than Henrik’s teammates did.
“I’d love to hear Henrik play.” The attention shifted to Vanessa, her normally cool tone warmed by the smile on her lips. She stood next to Hauke, tucked beneath his arm but not overshadowed by him. “I’m thinking he’s really good.”
“No way,” Bowser countered. “I’ll take that bet.”
“Me too.”
“Add me to that.”
The flood of bet-takers rippled through the room so quickly Henrik lost track of it. The wagers were levied, some on both sides. The majority were against him though. None of his teammates believed he could play. Not one of them bet on him. Not even Hauke or Rylie.
Dan, Colin and Aiden all bet on Henrik though. So did other members of Jacqui’s family—people he’d just met today.
The realization froze him more. His fingers were icicles around his warm beer bottle, his lungs blocks of ice that refused to work. His family didn’t know him at all.
Who really did?
“Hey, Roller.” The voice of his best friend raced down the stairs to crash through Henrik’s numbness. “Get your butt up here and show everyone what you can do.”
“Holy shit,” he mumbled, already moving. “Wally?” He shoved between Dan and Colin, almost running to the stairs.
“Walters’s here? No way!”
“When’d he get back?”
More comments followed, but Henrik didn’t hear them. He flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time to reach his friend. Scott Walters stood at the top of the stairs, balanced on crutches, a knee brace encasing his right leg from hip to ankle from his recent knee surgery. His familiar smile stretched over his face in a warm welcome that caught Henrik right in his chest.
Shit. He paused long enough to slow his stride before he yanked Walters into a hug,