He’d started a pickup game with a group of teenagers at the other end of the ice. He played goalie while the kids tried their best shootout moves on him. He sucked at goalie—not even on purpose—so the kids were having a blast.

She intentionally looked the other way, but it was still there. That prickle of acknowledgment seeping down her spine. She focused her attention anywhere else, cursing Drew for abandoning her. Drew refused to skate, and immediately took Sam and Callen’s offer to play video games in one of the suites. So, instead, she looked for Austin, but he was busy helping his friend Michael pull his young toddlers around on a sled.

Their smiles were contagious.

Leila stood back and took it all in, smiling to herself for the first time as she watched the family-filled scene unfold in front of her.

She even felt a little happy herself.

The notion seemed foreign. As she thought back over the past two years, she wondered if she’d ever been happy at all. She couldn’t remember, but she doubted it. It was as if she’d gradually fallen into this construed misconception of what being happy actually meant. Her relationship had been a production, a show she played out every day to convince herself that she was content. Looking back on it, she remembered the hundreds of nights she spent alone, the unanswered phone calls, and the clipped conversations. It made her sad. She pitied that part of herself, the part that trusted, and always gave the benefit of the doubt. She’d never know that girl again. She would never be able to look in a man’s eyes and just believe his words as truth. Her heart was too jaded for that now, still too raw from the memories. She wondered if the pain would ever truly go away for good.

She flinched, jerking her shoulder around. Henrik still watched her, his eyes trained on her as he stood unaware of the ensuing game around him. A puck zoomed by his shoulder without a blink of his eyes. She wanted to turn away again, but her body wouldn’t follow her mind’s demand. There was something about him, being near him, or feeling his gaze upon her, that transformed the ragged anger inside of her into something else, offering a moment’s relief.

He absently handed his stick to someone and skated to her. He didn’t say a word. It wasn’t necessary. He simply stood beside her, turning to watch the vision displayed in front of them. She breathed for the first time, and she finally shared a little bit of the happiness that surrounded her.

“I should have done this a long time ago.” She waved at the kid Austin pulled by in the sled.

“What? Come to our team functions?”

She shook her head, laughing when Austin took a sharp turn, rolling the kid off the sled to his complete delight. “Break up with Derek. Spend more time with Austin and Drew.”

“And me,” he added, glancing over at her.

She snorted. “That’s still up for debate.”

There it was—the doubt that would plague her forever. She wanted to smile at Henrik, to admit the past couple weeks hadn’t actually been so bad having him around, and how he ignited that tiny spark of hope inside of her that maybe they could actually co-exist. Except, she couldn’t. There was too much at stake now.

He rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed with her answer. “I thought we’d been having a good time lately. You know, on the rare occasion when you’re not unintentionally ignoring me.”

She glanced at him, frowning at his ridiculous grin. His hair, which had started to grow out, stuck out from underneath the ball cap he’d traded in for his Michelangelo mask. It reminded her of college, all the times she’d seen him lounging in the commons area, his faded green Fighting Sioux hat hiding his bed head. The memory hurt. As much as she told herself that she hated him then, it was just a lie to save what was left of her cracked heart.

“We’ve been tolerating each other,” she blew out, turning away from him. “I don’t necessarily know if that qualifies as having a good time.”

It was true. The past three weeks she hadn’t done much of anything. She’d called to have the few bills that were in her name transferred to Derek, but other than that, she’d been a ghost in Drew’s apartment. Randomly walking from one room to the next, not really sure what to do with herself. Sure, Henrik had been around during that time—stopping by for lunch after practice, or a late dinner after a game. He’d even brought over her favorite movies, and left his iPad for her so she could download some books. The more she thought about it, she realized he’d been there every single day, with the exception of the five days he was out of town on road trips.

“You’re in denial.”

Her brows shot up, suddenly taken aback by the harsh tone he’d used. “Of what?”

He crossed his arms. “Our friendship.”

“Sleeping together doesn’t make us friends,” she whispered back, using the same jilted tone of voice he’d used.

They’d been lovers, once, and it didn’t go beyond that. To pretend otherwise would only be another mistake in the long list she was accumulating.

He moved closer to her, his voice a soft rush between them. “We didn’t hook up for the hell of it, Leila. You came to me for help. You were upset, and I comforted you the best way I knew how at that point.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

His teeth snapped together. “Damn it, Leila.”

She tried to move, but he balled the edge of her shirt into a fist, holding her in place.

“Why do you always have to be so damn stubborn with me?”

She pried his fingers back, shooting a look toward Austin. He would draw attention to them if he didn’t stop. She didn’t want to have this conversation with him at all, let alone with an audience. All she wanted was to pretend she could be happy again.

She could make it that way, she promised herself, eventually. She’d move somewhere, on her own, start fresh. She could do it by herself.

Henrik shifted forward, now standing close enough that his chest brushed against the back of her shoulder. “Let’s say it was just sex. Even though we both know it wasn’t. Give me one good reason why we can’t be friends now.” He stepped back as Austin skated by, but then scooted even closer. “I’ve stopped accepting calls. I haven’t been out. I’ve even made it an entire two weeks without hitting on you.”

“Is that some sort of record for you, or something?” she asked dryly, still looking forward, trying to deny the way his breath felt on her neck.

“Well—yeah,” he admitted. “You haven’t exactly made it easy.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he grinned back at her. It was his you-can’t-stay-mad-me grin. “You look cute in green.”

She rolled her eyes. She couldn’t do this again. Not with Henrik.

“What?” He threw out his hands, laughing.

She spun around, scowling at him. “That is exactly why we can’t be friends.”

“Why? Because you’ve lost the ability to take a joke?” He followed after her, his every word saturated with the same unruly confidence that had turned her speechless from the very beginning. “A koala bear is cute. Bambi is cute. What’s so wrong with it?”

“It’s not that.”

He slid an inch closer. “Enlighten me, then.”

“It’s that stupid look on your face. It’s the exact same one that you—” She stopped, realizing what she was about to admit to him. It was the same grin he gave her the first night she met him. The same night he almost gave her a concussion. She couldn’t stay mad at him then either.

A friendship with Henrik would set herself up for failure again. He wasn’t capable of friendship, let alone—“Just never mind.”

“That I what?” He hurried and skated up beside her, brushing his hands against her wrist. “Leila, talk to me.”

She instantly jerked away. “No, Henrik. The simple fact is we can’t be friends.” It had already become more complicated than she ever intended. That night with Henrik was only meant to boost her ego and damper the betrayal that stung her so bitterly. If she had known what it would lead to—this reflux of emotion she thought died a long time ago, she might have just beat the hell out of Derek’s car instead. “As far as I’m concerned, we didn’t have sex that night.”