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“No, Daddy,” she managed to say. He was
confused again. “Gerald and I,” she sniffled and pulled out of his
embrace so that she could gaze directly into his eyes. “Gerald and
I broke up,” she said gently. “Remember?”

For a moment he looked confused, but then he
nodded slowly, glancing away as if embarrassed.

“I’m sorry honey. I…I guess I forgot.”

“It’s okay, Dad, don’t worry about it. I’m
trying not to think of it either.”

Bobbi grabbed a clean mug from the cupboard
and held it aloft. “Coffee?”

“Sure, thanks for asking.”

They both turned as Betty waltzed into the
kitchen, her long hair tangled past her shoulders, her eyes overly
bright and her makeup obviously days old. She smelled like a
brewery and looked worse.

“I see you’ve managed to find your way home
again,” Bobbi said through grated teeth.

“Now girls, let’s keep our claws in,” Gramps
said hurriedly as he followed Betty into the kitchen. “Who wants
bacon and eggs?”

Bobbi pulled out a chair for her father and
shook her head. “Not me, I’m out the door in ten minutes.”

Betty arched an eyebrow as she shrugged out
of her jacket and hung it on the back end of the closest chair.
“Off to work?” Her forehead wrinkled and she pursed her mouth. “Oh,
wait. That would be wrongedy-wrong-wrong, since Gerry fired your
ass last week.”

Bobbi’s perfect manicured nails bit into the
palm of her hand painfully. She’d been riding a tightrope all
weekend, ever since…

Heat surged over her face as she thought of
Shane.

And all the things they’d done together.

All the things they’d done together, over and
over…and over again.

“Are you going to hit me, Bobbi?”

“Someone needs to do more than that,”
Herschel muttered as he grabbed eggs, bacon, cheese and milk out of
the fridge.

Betty ignored her grandfather and slid into a
chair, resting her elbows onto the table as she gazed at her
father. “You want to do something today?”

Travis shook his head, his fingers picking at
the edge of his cardigan. He was getting nervous. And why wouldn’t
he with Betty’s intense eyes focused on him like he was an insect
or something.

“I’m sorry, Bets. I’m not feeling up to
much.”

“Oh,” Betty said softly, turning her
attention to the table as she flicked away invisible crumbs. “I
just thought, you know, we haven’t really hung out and—”

“And what?” Bobbi said quietly. “You’ll treat
Dad to an afternoon at The Grill, where you’ll drink yourself into
oblivion or snort something illegal? And then you’ll leave him
behind once he gets in the way. Once Matt Hawkins walks through the
door and all rational thought flies out of your pretty little head
because some guy is paying attention to you?”

“You’re such a bitch,” Betty ground out.

Bobbi heard her grandfather sigh and took a
moment to control her emotions. Now wasn’t the time to get into it
with her sister. “At least I’m an honest bitch.”

She kissed Herschel on the cheek and
whispered, “Sorry,” before giving her dad a quick hug. About to
leave the kitchen she nailed Betty with a no-nonsense look.
“There’s laundry to be done if you can fit it into your day.”

“I’ll check my schedule,” Betty retorted.

“You do that.”

“You didn’t tell us where you’re going,”
Betty said swiveling around to watch Bobbi near the door. Her gaze
moved up and down as Bobbi smoothed her hands over her hips, her
fingers trailing across the pale grey wool skirt. Form fitting and
cut to the knee, it was offset with classic black pumps, a plum
colored turtleneck and a silk scarf around her neck in a deeper
plum with slivers of black and grey running through it.

“I’ve got a job interview,” Bobbi said dryly.
“Something you might want to think about.”

She grabbed her long, black dress coat from
the front closet, and her purse and leather gloves before heading
out into the crisp, cold morning. Thankfully, the sun was warm
enough to have melted the frost and white stuff from her
windshield.

Sunglasses lessened the brilliant play of
sunlight on the snow and after letting the vehicle warm up for a
few moments, she left. Her interview was for ten o’clock in the
city—nearly forty minutes away—and she’d given herself an extra
half an hour for traveling time.

Traffic was heavier than usual due to road
conditions, but she reached her destination with ten minutes to
spare. The Barrel & Chadwick law firm had an opening for a
junior law clerk. Bobbi was hoping that with her experience she
would be a shoo-in.

As it was, she was more than a shoo-in,
however, the pay wasn’t nearly enough and when she factored in
driving time and the expense that went along with that, she wasn’t
sure it was worth it. They were desperate for someone to start
right away and after a great interview she was offered the job on
the spot, with the caveat she would give an answer by evening.

Driving back into New Waterford took nearly
as long as the drive into the city and by the time she pulled into
a parking spot at the old arena, Bobbi was not in a good mood.

It was noon. She was hungry. And it would
seem, still jobless.

Bobbi entered the arena that now housed her
sister Billie’s hockey school. Cold, she shivered as she strolled
through the lobby, her eyes on the ice. Billie was running a drill
with a bunch of young men and a smile tugged at her mouth as a wave
of pride rolled through her.

In the space of a few months her sister had
built up a solid reputation as a great teacher. Her obvious skills,
combined with her experience playing on two Olympic winning teams,
as well as the pro league she’d played for in Europe, made it an
easy win for the burgeoning school. Billie was busy all the time,
with both private power skating lessons, groups sessions and team
sessions for local junior players.

A ringing phone caught Bobbi’s attention and
she crossed the lobby, heading toward her sisters office. She
tossed her coat onto an ancient green and plaid sofa and silenced
the shrill rings by picking up. She settled into the chair to wait
for Billie to finish up with her session while she dealt with the
call.

By twelve thirty she had fielded four more
phone calls—three prospective students, an overzealous mother of a
current one—and had placed an order for takeout Chinese. Thirsty,
she checked Billie’s small fridge and winced at the sight of four
bottles of Gatorade and nothing else.

Great.

She hated the stuff and her sister chugged it
like it was the best thing ever. She grabbed a pink bottle figuring
it had to taste better than the green one and returned to the chair
behind the desk.

She’d just sat down when her sister walked
into the room.

Billie whistled. “Wow, you clean up good.
Looking a whole lot better than last week.”

Bobbi leaned back in the chair. “I had a job
interview.”

“Oh?” Billie grabbed the green Gatorade and
flopped onto the sofa. Dressed in a plain black track suit, she
adjusted a towel around her shoulders and took a long drink, before
wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Where?”

“In the city.”

Billie made a face. “That’s a shitty
commute.”

“I know.”

“Law office?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s a pretty large firm
and could be a great opportunity.”

“Are you going to take it?”

“How do you know I was offered the
position?”

“Well, you’re the most organized person I
know and they’d be stupid not to offer you a job.” She paused. “Did
they?”

Bobbi sighed and nodded. “Yes, but I’m not
sure what to do. The pay sucks because the position is entry level.
And then there’s the drive which in the summer months won’t be bad,
but in the winter...”

“Huh,” Billie said slowly. “So…”

Her voice trailed off as a glint of mischief
lit her eyes. Here we go. Bobbi was surprised her sister had waited
this long to ask the question that had probably burned a hole
inside her head since Friday night.

“What?” Bobbi asked carefully, considering
how much she was going to share.

“So, you and Shane.”

“Yep.”

“You and Shane, Friday night.”

“Me and Shane, Friday night,” she repeated,
her cheeks flushing as she squirmed in her seat, adjusting her
skirt.

Billie’s eyes widened. “So it’s true.”

“What’s true?”

“You and Shane had sex.”

“Sheesh,” Bobbi’s eyebrows shot up. “Let’s
just cut to the chase already.”

“Well?” Billie was grinning and practically
bouncing up and down on the sofa. “Did you or did you not have lots
of hot, sweaty, hot…
really
hot sex with Shane
Gallagher?”

A throat was cleared and the two girls turned
to the doorway where Charlie Cho, owner of King’s Chinese stood
with their takeout bag.

“Hello girls,” the old man said jovially.
“Here’s your food. I’ll just take my money and you can carry on
with your interesting conversation.”

Bobbi’s face flamed to a vivid red as she dug
through her purse for some cash. After paying Mr. Cho, who winked
before he left, Billie wasted no time. As Bobbi was digging into
her chicken fried rice, Billie’s mouth was flapping.

“I want details, Bobbi. I want to know how
and why and how many times and—”

“Holy hell, Billie. I’m not going to give you
a play by play. Besides, with all the action you’ve had lately I’m
sure you can figure it out.”

“Well you at least owe me the
highlights.”

With a sigh, Bobbi picked at her fried rice.
“It was…” she began and then glanced up at her sister, her chest
tightening, her heart pounding. “It was amazing.”

Billie’s mouth hung open, her spoonful of
noodles held still, in mid-air. After a moment of silence she
frowned. “The details would be good right about now.”

Bobbi chewed her food slowly and then took a
long, exaggerated drink from the god awful pink Gatorade, ignoring
the stink eye directed at her by her sister.

“What do you want to hear?” she said sharply,
suddenly not in the mood to share the details of a night she was
still trying to process. A night that had been filled with both
passion and tenderness. A night that had been about loud,
boisterous ecstasy, followed by moments of stillness and
silence.

Bobbi wasn’t exactly sure what had transpired
on Friday night, but she knew one thing. It hadn’t just been about
the sex. It hadn’t just been about the physical. It had been so
much more.

And it was the so much more that had her
running scared.

None of that would be shared. Not even with
her sister.

“How many orgasms did you have?” Billie shot
at her.

This she could play along with. “Too many to
count.”

Billie grinned. “That’s good. Okay, how many
positions did you try?”

“Does hanging from the ceiling count?”

“Excellent.”

Bobbi shook her head at her sister’s
enthusiasm.

“Why are you so interested anyway?” she
asked.

“What happened between the two of you?”
Billie ignored Bobbi’s question. “You know, back before, well,
before Shane got into trouble and ended up in jail.”

Bobbi’s mouth tightened a little. She knew
that her sister had grown close to Shane. He and Logan were tight
and the three of them had spent a lot of time together over the
last few months.

“What has he told you?”

Billie shrugged. “Nothing. Not even Logan
says much except that the two of you were crazy about each other.
Too crazy, according to him.”

“He’s right,” she murmured. “The only time we
got along was when we were in bed.”

“But you were kids,” Billie exclaimed jumping
up. “You’re both different people now. Maybe this is your second
chance.”

“No,” Bobbi shook her head. “I thought I had
changed. I
tried
to change but I’m still the same person and
we’re still bad for each other.”

“That sounds like a bunch of clichéd bullshit
if you ask me. I see the way he looks at you…the way you perk up
whenever there’s mention of Shane. You walked out on your wedding
for Christ sakes—”

She held her hand up when Bobbi’s mouth flew
open.

“And don’t tell me that had nothing to do
with Shane Gallagher. You’re a shitty liar Bobbi, and I know
better.”

Bobbi stared at her sister but remained
silent because Billie was sadly mistaken. She didn’t know the half
of it. She didn’t know Bobbi Jo had secrets…secrets and lies that
she’d held close for so long. Lies she’d used to hurt, to
destroy…and there was no taking them back.

There would be no second chance because deep
down she knew Shane would never forgive her if he knew the
truth.

The phone rang, a shrill echo that had both
girls jumping. Bobbi frowned when Billie swore and shook her head,
but made no move to answer it. “I hate dealing with that
stuff.”

Amused, Bobbi answered the phone, glanced up
at the schedule on the white board to her right and directed the
prospective student to come out for a free skate on Sunday
afternoon. When she hung up, she glanced at Billie.

“Do you not have a website with this
information on it?”

“Sure, it’s just I have to do the updates
myself and besides the fact that I hate doing that shit, I don’t
have time.”

“Uh huh.” Bobbi’s eyes moved over the desk,
the top of which could barely be seen because there were papers,
receipts and all kinds of stuff on it. Wait. Was that a check? Or
two?

“I don’t,” Billie said defensively. “Take
today for example. I’m leaving in twenty minutes to drive to
Michigan U to meet with the head coaches and trainers of their
hockey program. They want me to work with them on fine tuning the
existing program with some cutting edge training techniques.”