When Aria Monroe lands her dream job as the new photographer for Los Angeles's professional hockey team, the last thing she expects is to work with the cocky, arrogant center Connor Holden who rocked her world five years ago during a one-night stand...
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Brian showed up the following day at practice with a surprise for me.
Give or take five years ago, I would have been thrilled with this surprise, but a lot has changed since then. When Esme strides beside him into the arena, and her eyes land on me, they're filled with pity. The same expression Brian and my parents have whenever they look at me.
We used to be thicker than thieves when we were kids, and as the years went on, I became the bad influence Brian spoke of the other day. I lived and breathed to live on the wild side, where Esme was always the cautious one, wanting to play it safe. But after that night, I changed who I was forever, and the shift in my personality seemed to drive us apart. Not because Esme wanted the separation, but because I didn't know how to be her friend anymore if I couldn't feel like myself.
And it was also hard to be reminded of that night every single time I saw her.
Esme, as always, looks absolutely stunning. With fiery red hair and freckles dotting the sharp lines of her cheekbones, it's undeniable that she's a supermodel. Her long, slender legs carry her over to me, that same expression of concern etched into her face. "Aria," she says, pulling me in for a hug before I can refuse. The scent of jasmine floods my nose, the smell of her, and I pull her in closer, burying my face into her shirt. As much as I try to deny it, I miss her, but it's painful to be around her. I don't know how to express that without hurting her feelings.
"How have you been?" I ask.
"I've been fine. How are you?" She holds me at arm's length, inspecting me as if she'll find injuries. "My Dad said you accepted his offer to be the photographer here. I'm really glad you took him up on it."
I nod thoughtfully. "He didn't tell me you were coming today."
"Don't be mad at him," she pleads. "I asked if I could come to practice to see you. Things have been...strained between us the last couple of years, but you have to know that I'll never stop fighting for us, Aria. I understand you're going through a difficult time, but I want to be there for you. I want to help you through this."
Her kindness and sincerity are like a punch to the gut. If given the opportunity, she'd drop her successful career as a model and be by my side until she felt I was okay again. What she doesn't understand is I don't think I'm capable of healing from that night. I don't think I ever will be. And, even if I were, she's the last person who could help me.
This might be the only time I ever say this, but I'm thankful when Connor skates up to the side of the rink we're on, stripping himself of his helmet and shaking out his sweaty curls. Fucking hell. "I see you've met Esme," he drawls. "The owner's daughter."
Esme smiles politely. Too kind for her own good. "Just came to drop by and see my best friend." Pushing some strands of hair away from my face, she smiles widely, and dammit, it's contagious. It always has been.
