Something inside of me softens. I squeeze his arm. “Why don’t you wait here? I can run in and grab a few things.”
“No, I’ll come.” He pulls a pair of sunglasses from the glove box and slides them on. I study him for a moment, and he says, “Sometimes fluorescent lights bother me.”
“I know. It was the same for me.”
“What a pair we are, huh?” I’m about to pull my hand away when he slides his big warm palm over it, his rough calluses scoring my flesh as he holds me in place. “Nina, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you when you had your concussion.” He frowns, and behind his lenses I’m almost certain I see sorrow in his eyes.
What the hell? Who is this Cole?
“Cason and I,” his voice catches, like his words are stuck in his throat, “were on the road and—”
“It’s okay, Cole. I’m not your responsibility.”
He goes quiet for a moment and looks down at his lap, his brow knitted tightly. “Yeah, well, I just wanted to say I was sorry, about that and your injuries. You were one hell of a skater.”
My stupid heart jumps at his second compliment of the night. He’d been at the rink a few times when I was practicing or competing, but I never thought he paid me much attention. I figured he was there to check out the girls in their skimpy performance outfits.
“Thanks,” is all I say, not wanting to talk about it. Think about it. Remember it. The past is the past, and I need to focus on the writing now, and paying the bills. “We’d better hurry. We don’t want to miss the start of the game.”
He looks at me for a moment and then nods, and we both exit the vehicle. He meets me at the front of the car, and we walk into the brightly lit store together. He leans into me and nudges me with his shoulder. His scent reaches my nostrils, and as I breathe in his clean, soapy smell, every goddamn nerve in my traitorous body comes alive.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I do not want this. Becoming attracted to Cocky Cole is the last thing I need.
“So, this is a grocery store?” he says.
I laugh, anything to hide the storm going on inside my body. “Yes, Cole. This is a grocery store.” I grab a cart. “Want a ride?” I tease.
“If I didn’t have a concussion, I’d be all over that idea.”
“I somehow don’t doubt that.” I guide him to the fresh vegetables section, and as I reach for the lettuce to make us a salad, a hush comes over the crowd.
I glance around, take in the quiet mass gathering around the produce.
“What’s going on?” I ask Cole, but then I see the way people are pointing, staring, whispering to each other. A little boy of around seven is gawking at Cole, his eyes the size of the apples in his mother’s cart.
Ah, I get it. Cole is the infamous Playmaker, and everyone is star struck. I don’t know why I never stopped to think about that before. I look at him, see him through the eyes of the crowd. Truthfully, he’s charismatic, larger than life. It’s no wonder he has women handing over their panties.
A child in a cast makes a move toward him, and at first Cole stiffens. The mother grabs her son to stop him from approaching without permission, and as Cole takes in the family, a fast change comes over him. He takes his glasses off and drops to one knee. “Hey kid,” he says, his Playmaker grin in place. “What happened?”
“I broke my arm. I just got this.” He holds his cast up, like it’s a badge of honor.
“Want me to sign it, then we can get a picture together?” Cole hands me his phone. “Would you mind?”
I take the phone, and the wallpaper is that of Cason and Cole. I pull up the camera app and try not to think about how much I miss my brother.
“Mommy, can I?” the boy asks this time, his voice bursting with excitement.
“Of course,” his mom says, but from the way she’s eyeing Cole, I get the sense that she’s as infatuated as her son. I can see why, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him, like he’s nothing more than a piece of meat.
Feeling a little protective of my brother’s best friend, I step closer, under the guise of getting set up to take a picture, and partially block the woman’s view.
The boy comes bouncing over, his body practically vibrating with excitement. Cole tosses his arm around him and nudges his chin. “You play hockey?” he asks.
“Yeah, but I’m not as good as my brother.”
“Do you want to be?” The kid nods fast. “So you love it?”
“I do.”