Page 29 of Sinful Mafia Santa

Her fingers tighten on mine. “I want to stand beneath it,” she says. “Beside you. Come on. Let’s get some skates.”

“I don’t skate.”

“Please,” she says, like that will make all the difference.

I shake my head.

She drops to her knees, right there, beside the boards. Tears glisten on her lashes as she looks up at me. “Please,” she says again. “I’ll never ask for anything else, Gage, not ever again. But we owe this to him. Tonight, on this anniversary, he deserves one last goodbye from both of us. Together.” When I don’t say anything, she grabs my hand. “Gage,” she pleads. “If not for him, then for me. I need you to put on those skates.”

11

AERYN

For a moment, I think he’ll walk away. He looks down the tunnel toward the locker room. His eyes shine in the dim light, and his face is drawn.

“I can’t,” he finally says.

“Can’t?” I ask, squeezing his hand. “Or won’t?”

He pulls his fingers out of my reach. “What difference does it make?”

I clamber to my feet. “He would have done it for you.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“He loved you.”

“Right up until he landed an uppercut to my gut.”

“That was my fault.”

Gage’s hands curl into knots as he glares at me. I can’t remember ever seeing rage like this on his face. That’s not who he is. But he sounds like a man trying to keep from putting his fist through a wall when he says, “It was never your fault.”

“Ourfault, then.Both of us.”

He shakes his head, one tight twist.

I set my palm against his jaw. It feels like it’s about to crumble, like a suspension bridge is collapsing. “Both of us,” I repeat. “That’s why I need you with me, out there on the ice.”

He brushes away my hand with a barely capped energy. I know he could have broken my wrist. He could have shoved me over the boards, onto the rink. Even in his fury, in his misery, he’s doing his best to protect me.

“Gage… Help me say goodbye.”

“It’s been ten fucking years.”

“Then it’s time we’re both set free.”

“Free?” He says the word like he’s never heard it before. “What makes you think I deserve to befree?”

“He wouldn’t want you to?—”

“You don’t know that!” Gage’s shout bounces off the rafters.

“He was my brother.” My voice shakes.

“And he was my best friend! He’s dead! I let him die! And if you think strapping on some skates and standing beneath a goddamn teal-and-white banner can change any of that, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

He stomps down the tunnel like he’s just been given a five-minute major for fighting. I take three steps after him before I pull myself up short. He’s bellowing in the locker room,keening, like someone is pulling his heart through his ribcage.