Mia’s stomach surged and twisted. Her head filled with his murmurs from the night before.
“How did it take us so long to figure this out?”
“You feel better than every fantasy I’ve ever had about you.”
“Can’t get enough, baby. God, can’t get enough.”
He broke their gazes when someone called to him, and Mia got a better look at his eye. That bruise and the cut just beneath had come from a right cross. She’d seen the results of enough hockey fights to know.
“Ouch,” Eden said, her gaze also on Rafe. “That looks worse than it did under the stadium lights.”
“That’s because his helmet was hiding it.”
She searched the crowd for Tate, and she found her brother merrily chatting with a mixed group of fans and players. No bruises or cuts on his handsome face. Just as she was about to look away, Tate caught her eye and lifted his chin in greeting. Then his gaze flicked toward the door—toward Rafe—before returning to her, his smile gone. With an expression Mia couldn’t quite read, Tate returned to his conversation.
A burn radiated through her torso. She cut a look back to Rafe. He’d been greeted with rousing applause by the entire bar. Friends and fans and teammates said everything from “What got into you tonight?” to “Whatever you did to play like that, just keep doing it until we’re playin’ for the Cup.” And now he was busy with fans and puck bunnies, leaving Mia to wonder and worry. But worse—hope.
Even the slightest possibility that Rafe might have confessed to Tate gave Mia goose bumps. Not just because the thought of continuing this thing with Rafe thrilled her—heart and soul—but because that meant he’d finally put her first. He’s stood up to Tate for her. She’d meant enough to him to fight to be with her.
Her stomach fluttered, and emotion rushed in. No other man had ever done that. Not the father who’d abandoned her, not any college professor who’d supposedly mentored her, not any of her boyfriends, some who’d professed to love her.
Tate took care of her, but it wasn’t the same. From the time Joe had discovered Tate’s existence and taken on his role of father with 200 percent enthusiasm, her brother had constantly been compensating Mia for getting stuck with pond scum as a sperm donor. But he’d never given anything up for her. He’d never fought for her—unless that black eye was his doing.
Beckett came toward them, paused at the bar, and wrapped an arm around Eden’s waist. She congratulated him on his win, and they talked a little about the game.
“Mia and I can’t figure out how Rafe got the black eye,” Eden said. “Is he okay? Did the team doc look at it?”
Beckett’s expression shifted into concern and annoyance. “I don’t know what got into those two today.”
“What two?” Mia asked.
“Your brother and Rafe. Rafe came in late this morning—no big deal. One minute I’m telling him his ass is going to get fined, the next Tate’s whaling at him over my shoulder. Dumb shits.”
Eden was both amused and puzzled. “Why?”
“Fuckin’ Kilbourne.”
Mia’s stomach chilled.
“Oh God,” Eden said. “It will be a miracle if that guy makes it through the end of the season without a major injury. What did he do now?”
Beckett shot Mia an apologetic glance. “Started a stupid rumor about Mia and Rafe. I don’t think it would have bothered Tate coming from anyone else. He would have just told them to shut their mouths. But Kilbourne gets under everyone’s skin. I think Tate just took out his frustration on Rafe.”
Mia’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. It had been Cole who’d told Tate, not Rafe.
“That man’s stupidity is why I have job security,” Eden said, shooting a that’s-unbelievable look at Eden, then asked Beckett. “What did Rafe say?”
“Say about what?”
Rafe’s voice startled Mia’s heart. He came up behind Beckett and glanced at Mia, then Eden.
“Your eye,” Eden said. “About Tate hitting you.”
Rafe’s gaze returned to Mia. “I think the stress is getting to him.”
Eden took a minute to look at the cut and probe the area. When Rafe winced, Beckett pulled Eden away. “Enough, Miss Nightingale. It’s just a black eye. He’ll live. I promise.”
He stole Eden away to a quiet corner, and Mia was left facing Rafe. But he remained a good five feet away and didn’t make any move to close the distance.
Mia didn’t know what to say or where to start. And now she wasn’t sure where her footing lay either. “Congratulations on your trick and your win. You killed it tonight.”