Page 44 of Flashback for the Forward

“All right, Cinder,” I said to my feline companion. “You ready to watch your dad go to work?”

There was a meow as he butted his furry head against my hand.

A laugh was pulled from my chest. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The puck was dropped, and the game began.

Like all those years ago, when I was merely watching on from metal bleachers, I quietly remarked on every movement that took place on the ice.

“Nice D-to-D pass, Crew . . . Ugh, you gotta have your head up . . . Who’s in front of the net? . . . Bad time for a shift change . . . Okay, power play. Let’s take advantage, boys.”

Cinder didn’t seem bothered by my mindless commentary, but he let out a loud yowl when I jumped to my feet without warning to celebrate a goal Cole scored for the Surf.

“Oops, sorry, buddy.” I bent low to scratch behind his ears in apology.

He purred as if all was forgiven before flopping onto his back and exposing his soft stomach for belly rubs.

Pride filled my chest when my eyes darted back to the TV, the five Surf players in the midst of a group hug against the glass as the crowd in the arena went wild. The camera followed as they skated toward the bench for first bumps from the rest of the team before panning to a blonde woman in the stands who cheered with visible excitement.

She was gorgeous, sure, but I didn’t understand why the shot zoomed in on her rather than the entire section, as if she were somehow relevant to the action on the ice.

Then the announcers said her name, and my world tilted on its axis.

Chapter 14

Cole

The minute I walked into the house from the garage, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Something was wrong.

The lights on the first floor were still on, so with my heart in my throat, I called out, “Bridget!”

I was met with nothing but silence.

Hastening my steps, I checked every room downstairs before doing the same upstairs.

Bridget was nowhere to be found.

She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, would she?

The mere thought made my chest constrict, and breathing became a struggle.

But all her stuff was still in the guest room. That meant she had to be around here somewhere, right?

It wouldn’t be the first time she’s fled without any of her possessions.

I gripped two fistfuls of my hair and tugged.

Fuck.

Did something happen that spooked her? That made her feel she had no other option but to run?

I hated thinking that she was out there somewhere, alone and scared.

Collapsing onto the mattress, I dropped my head into my hands.

This couldn’t be happening. It felt as though God was playing a cruel trick on me, bringing the woman I loved back into my life only to rip her away again.