Page 28 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Twenty-Six

Kailey

“Another cheese stick, madame?” Beth asked, two weeks later, on what was becoming our bimonthly Cheese Night Extravaganza.

I passed her the basket, and Beth swooped in and helped herself to the yummy fried cheese. I made a mental note to add in a few walks around the block to compensate for the extra calories I consumed on these evenings.

“We’re thinking about adopting.”

Pru.

My breath caught, feeling too new to this group to be part of this conversation, but also touched that they had accepted me so easily.

Beth set down her cheese stick, reached over, and covered Pru’s hand. “I meant what I said at the wedding”—which had happened over the summer; I had been invited, but was so new and gripped by my anxiety I obviously hadn’t attended—“I will carry your babies.”

Pru inhaled sharply, turned her palm over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I know you meant it. I just…” Another breath. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”

Beth nodded. “Okay, honey. But if you do…”

Pru smiled, squeezed again, and then grabbed her beer, taking a long swallow. “It’s a long process to adopt,” she said, “so I have time to get over the rest of the nerves.”

Pru? Nerves?

“How?”

I didn’t realize I’d asked that aloud until three heads swiveled my way. “Sorry,” I said, lifting my hands. “I just—” A shake of my head. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Tell me about the process. What do you and Marcel have to do?”

Pru’s head tilted to the side. “Paperwork. Attorneys.” A beat. “Now, what do you mean how?”

I bit my lip, glanced to Hazel for help.

The psychologist merely raised her brows.

“How do you have nerves?” I whispered. “You just seem so”—a wave of my hand—“together and confident, and I’m—” I broke off. Struggled.

“Not?” Pru finished.

A shrug. A nod. My eyes on My cheese.

The table went quiet, the only sounds that of CeCe’s around us—the loud hum of conversations, the clink of silverware and plates and cups.

Then a warm, strong hand on mine.

“You’re fucking great, Kailey,” she said. “Smart and pretty, and you have this quiet strength that I envy.”

I frowned.

“Sometimes it’s impossible for me to sit and be quiet. I’m always chasing a high and for years, I used that high of life to hide all the shit in my life.”

“But you’re so strong.”

Pru’s smile gentled. “Is it? To be constantly running instead of living?”

“What about constantly hiding instead of living?” I asked and glanced across the table, happening to catch Beth’s eyes. “Because that’s what I’ve done.”

Beth’s face changed, a flicker here and gone, but then Hazel spoke.

“ Is that what you’ve done?”

A breath. “No,” I said, “it’s not quite that simple.”

“Right.”

“But it still feels weak, especially when I can’t even stand up to my dad, and he’s awful, and now I’m supposed to meet Smitty’s parents, and they’re not like my family. They’re good .”

He’d asked the previous night.

His family was coming to town.

Supposedly, they were more than good. Supposedly, they were great.

And all I’d been able to do since agreeing to have dinner with them was panicking—because I had to meet his family—but my dad was…

my dad, and my mom hadn’t shown any interest in my life in years, and Smitty’s family was involved in his life, and what if I couldn’t talk and was frozen in my own damned mind and?—

What if they didn’t like me?

Hazel leaned forward. “Want to tell me why that’s scary?”

“Oh no,” Pru said. “I’ve got that one. It’s terrifying because they’re part of him, and maybe they’ll have their faults, but you want them to like you despite your faults, and then it’s just this scary cycle of faults and panic and wanting to make a good impression and—” A wave of her hand.

“It’s just shit. All around, but you’ll get through it, especially if they love Smitty. He loves you, so they’ll love you.”

“That seems like an oversimplification,” Beth said. “Just saying,” she added when Hazel and Pru glared at her. “I mean I know you’re great, but families are complicated, and it’s…just not always that simple.”

Yeah.

It seemed like that, too.

Hazel leaned across the table and squeezed my hand. “You know Smitty,” she said. “You see how protective he is of the guys, of you. Do you have any doubt that he would tolerate anything less than full acceptance of our girl?”

Pru shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”

Beth paused, considered that. “I don’t know him all that well, but you make a good argument, Haze.”

Hazel whispered out of the side of her mouth. “That’s as close to an agreement as we’ll get from our corporate exec, Beth.”

I giggled.

Because agreement from Beth or not, Hazel did make a good point, and Pru did, too, even if it was a bit too rose-colored glasses for me, considering my brain tended toward worst case scenario.

But the truth was, this came down to me and Smitty.

To what we had together and what we were building for the future.

And I knew that Smitty would protect me.

The only thing that scared me was not being able to protect him back.

My stomach churned.

My throat was tight.

I felt like I was walking toward the guillotine—if that came in the form of three people who loved and cared for the man that U loved and cared for.

This should be easy.

But like things often were in my life, it wasn’t all that easy. It was complicated and difficult and something I had to force myself to do, just hoping that I’d get through and it would get easier and?—

Fingers on my cheek. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “I promise.”

“What if I can’t talk?” I whispered.

“Then you’ll be quiet and mysterious, and they’ll be desperate to get together with you again so that they can get to know the beautiful woman with all the mysterious secrets.”

A roll of my eyes. “Or they’ll want to run from the woman who’s a bitch and standoffish.”

“No, little bird. That’s not you. Even when you’re quiet, you’re still warm.”

“How about when I told you I wasn’t interested.”

He grinned, nipped my nose. “Still warm.”

“And when I ran from the party?”

A press of his mouth to mine. “Still warm.”

“And—”

A deeper kiss, tongue dipping in and tangling with mine.

“Baby,” I began when he pulled back. “I?—”

His eyes sparked with amusement, but he merely swiped a thumb across my lips and straightened, saying, “Oh hey, Mom.”

And I died.

Right there.

Just a little.

I had a drink in my hand—and one in my belly—and it made things slightly better.

At least with alcohol the memory of turning and seeing Smitty’s mom behind me, an indulgent smile on her face, had faded slightly.

My heart had still been racing, my legs shaking just the littlest bit, and then I’d had to introduce myself and make small talk until Smitty’s dad and brother had returned from parking the car.

Celeste had a broken foot, a cane, and a sense of humor that rivaled Smitty’s, joking that she’d break the other foot if it meant she’d get curbside service, and hearing that, seeing the easy smile that was like Smitty’s, the sparkling brown eyes that were so similar to her son’s, and the tension had eased inside me.

No spinning blades, whirling machetes slicing through me.

Just a bit of shy and following Smitty’s lead.

Which had been as it always was—patient and easy-going.

So, by the time his dad and brother came, the blades stayed sheathed, and I was able to stay relaxed…relatively anyway.

Ryan, Smitty’s dad, was a little quiet. Not standoffish, but seemingly just used to Smitty and Celeste dominating the conversation. Brandon, his brother, was quiet as well, but…he kind of gave me a weird vibe.

Like…there was some tension under the surface I couldn’t comprehend.

Nothing overt.

Nothing terrible.

Just…something that was rubbing and uncomfortable and might eventually cut through to the surface. And in the meantime, it was all just?—

There.

Barely-healed over.

“Here you go,” Julie said, sliding a plate of food in front of Celeste.

“The daily special with tomato soup.” A shift of movement brought food to me (I’d laid off the cheese and gone for wings), and then the guys’ burgers were off the large tray Julie had perched on her shoulder and dispersed to their proper locations.

“Thanks, Jules,” I said, having gotten to know the server, at least a little bit, considering how often I’d been into CeCe’s.

The other woman smiled and gave me a sly high-five as she mouthed, “You got this.”

And so far, I had.

The nerves meant I wasn’t completely comfortable, not like I was with Smitty or my friends (yes, somehow I had friends), but it wasn’t like I was sitting on my stool, feeling like a writhing uncomfortable bundle of anxiety.

“This is delicious,” Celeste said, spooning up some soup.

“For such a dingy-looking place, the burger’s good,” Brandon said, and I froze, my wing poised in front of my lips, feeling almost defensive of CeCe’s.

Was it marble and glass and a Michelin-starred restaurant?

No.

But it was homey and warm, and they made good food, had a friendly staff, and…I could be myself here.

My eyes narrowed slightly, but I decided to ignore the comment, as I had with the weird vibe and the other couple of snarky replies Brandon had given that evening, following Celeste and Ryan’s lead and focusing on my wings and my beer.

My eyes hit Smitty’s—who smiled tightly and took a bite of his burger—his knee brushing mine, silently telling me that it was okay.

I nodded slightly. Then Ryan asked me about my job with the Breakers.

Giving him my standard rundown of the program meant that I was distracted from the comment, and add in Celeste asking about my family, and the verbal tap-dance of that topic of conversation—“My dad works a lot, and we’re not close.

My mom is really busy with her charities. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

Bare facts.

Enough that I hopefully wouldn’t have to get into it in further detail.

At least not today.

Luckily, it seemed to satisfy his parents because the conversation then turned back to the team (and I didn’t miss that Smitty was the one doing the slight redirecting, just another reason I loved the man).

They were talking about the season and the prospects for what might happen when the playoffs rolled around when Brandon struck again. “Yeah, it’s lucky that Conner managed to squeak into the NHL. He was so bad at school that he wouldn’t have had a backup plan.”

Celeste gasped.

Brandon smiled, and it was tinged with the jealously that coated his words, which was obvious to me now. “Probably be working at McDonald’s now if he hadn’t.”

“ Brandon,” Ryan snapped.

Like working in the service industry was bad.

Like Smitty was bad and a disappointment and stupid.

Like his biggest worry he’d worked to bury deep.

And his brother was just poking it with a sharp stick.

Smitty winced, but his voice was calm. “Look, Brandon, man. Let’s not do this now. We’re having a nice dinner, and you don’t need to ruin it with old shit.”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed. “You took my spot.”

Celeste and Ryan stilled.

Smitty sighed. “This was more than a decade ago, Brand, and you know I had no control over who got chosen?—”

“Chosen?” I asked.

“ He took it,” Brandon snapped, his eyes flashing to mine. “He took my spot on the team, and if I’d had it, I would be here instead of where I’m at and?—”

“Brandon,” Ryan interjected. “You know?—”

“Oh, I know. I know how proud you are of him and how I’m just the normal one— You know he’s dyslexic, right?” he asked, still staring at me. “Was so fucking dumb in school that he barely passed. A disappointment to his teachers. Hell, Mom and Dad had to get him a ton of tutors and?—”

“ Brandon, ” Celeste snapped.

Was a thirty-year-old man seriously saying these things?

Rage built in my belly, flickered up and out through my limbs.

My throat spasmed.

I glanced at Smitty, saw his face had gone pale, his expression stark.

“You’re seriously holding a grudge about not making a team years ago?

” I asked, bracing when Brandon’s gaze whipped to mine, lips parting.

“And is where you are now so bad?” A swallow.

“You know what Smitty told me before we came to dinner? How proud of you he is,” I said before he could interject.

“He was so freaking excited that you just got the job at a Fortune 500 company, talked my ear off about how proud he was of you.”

The venom began to leak out of Brandon’s face.

But I wasn’t done.

The words kept coming.

“And this night, when you’re meeting me, something he’s excited to share. Not that I’m this amazing treasure?—”

“You are.”

I glanced to the side, saw Smitty’s eyes glimmering.

“You are,” he said again.

“You are, too,” I whispered, reaching forward and covering his hand with my own.

“And you’re smart and funny and the man I love.

” I glanced back at Brandon. “So, before you start bringing up shit that should have been left in the past more than ten years ago, you should think about the kind, generous man who’s sitting here with us, of his pride in you.

” A breath. “And you should consider that he might worry about his own worth, about all those things you mentioned as faults, about being a disappointment, and how hard he works to not be one.” My eyes narrowed.

“Because, for some damned reason, he wants to impress you.”

Brandon was ghost white.

But I pressed on.

“Then you should think about who the real disappointment is.”