Read It Had to Be You (Christiansen Family) for Free Online Page A

dedication to bird-watching   —intrigued her. Everyone had a story. And inside everyone was a hero   —you just had to dig for it.
    Eden hung her bag over her shoulder and headed to the employee entrance, grabbing her jacket and punching out.
    She texted Owen while standing in the frozen bus shelter. He didn’t answer.
    Maybe he did take up too much room in her life right now. But that’s what family did for each other. And she refused to let him fail.
    She boarded the bus, hand on her phone, but it never vibrated the entire eight stops to her apartment.
    Her heart sank at the sight of the Charger outside her building.
    Upstairs, the odor of burnt toast filtered out into the hallway, and frustration formed on her lips as she unlocked her door and pushed her way inside. “Owen! You’re supposed to be at practice!”
    A layer of smoke hovered against the ceiling, the smoke alarm dangling from its electric leads. Crumbs littered her white Formica counter, and as she walked farther into the apartment, the foul odor of old gym socks flooded over her.
    What?
    “Owen!” She headed straight for the bedroom but found it empty, her bedspread a mess where he’d rolled up in it like a burrito.
    She tapped on the bathroom door, but it eased open into darkness.
    The smell seemed to emanate from her living room, so she returned.
    Then stood there in a sort of stupefied silence looking at the white bundle of laundry the size of a Volkswagen Bug sitting onher coffee table. She approached it, nose curled, and hooked one finger into the drawn-closed hole.
    Oh! Owen’s clothes, everything that his team trainer didn’t wash, apparently. His private workout gear, disgusting socks, sweaty Under Armour, and she didn’t want to guess what else was crammed into the bag.
    And next to it, on the sofa, in Owen’s handwriting:
    I had this laundry in my car, but it was starting to get stinky. Can you wash it, and since you have my keys, get the seats and mats cleaned too? I’ll pick up my ride tomorrow after practice. Thanks, Sis.
    Eden picked up the note. Crumpled it in her hand.
    Threw it across the room.
    It hit the sliding-glass door, where, outside, the sky had begun to turn a dark gray.

    To Jace Jacobsen, skating over a sheet of freshly layered ice felt akin to flying. The arena air freezing his skin and drying his eyes as he flew scraped away the last vestiges of the migraine that had chased him into the morning, even after two cups of full-brew caffeine.
    He loved the early hours before practice, when the rink belonged to him. He supposed the habit started in grade school, when he hiked over to the ice shed behind the school to kill hours before evening practice. He’d had nowhere else to go, really, and it gave him time to hone his skating, sharpen his slap shots.
    Now he took the ice and stretched out in long glides, skatingthe length twice, then around again at top speed, the wind in his ears. He grabbed a bucket of pucks, dropped one, and gave it a slap, chasing it toward the net.
    He could hear the announcer playing in his mind and reveled in it. Jacobsen with the breakaway. He’s flying down the ice, tucks it in between the pads   —scores!
    The puck shot into the net, and Jace rounded the back of it, hands up. Then he fished the puck out and repeated the play on the other end.
    He skated a few quick lines, back and forth, working on his stick handling; then he emptied the bucket of pucks on the ice at the blue line.
    One by one, he took shots on goal. The sound echoed like rifle fire against the expanse of the arena. He imagined fans, two tiers high, screaming, and smiled.
    He made eight goals before he missed, then managed six more.
    The Wild had first drafted him because of his blue-line slap shot. Somehow, that fact had faded when he started dropping his gloves. And then his legend took over, and he’d stopped playing hockey and started playing for ticket sales. The Blue Ox picked him up because he made a top-notch