Page 73 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Two

Jules, Two Months Later

“It’s break time.”

I glanced over at Beth, tucking the round, black tray under my arm as I did so…

And instant regret of that action.

Frosty drops of condensation from cold drinks, of spillover from the beers and sodas and just plain glasses of water dripped down my side. From armpit to hip and frigid enough that I bit the inside of my cheek so that I didn’t squeak and squirm in response.

All these years in this job and I still spilled shit on myself.

Though, I supposed I should be happy that my habit of dumping trays full of food on myself had been limited to three times. Total.

Twice—my fault.

Once—an asshole patron (who’d been permanently banned).

Beth cleared her throat, brows lifting, pregnant belly rounded and just visible when she was sitting at the high top table.

Right.

Beth had made a statement. Though, it was more of a question, even if the actual words that had come out of Beth’s mouth had been absent of the querying tone.

I glanced at my watch. “Just about.”

“Your tables all have their food and refills,” Beth said. “No one new has walked in. You’ve been on your feet for four hours?—”

“You guys have only been here for an hour,” I countered, just on principle. Beth was awesome and kind and sweet, but she also had a strong personality and was good at railroading people. It was important to show a little spine, otherwise she would walk right over me.

An arch look. “Am I wrong?”

She wasn’t, unfortunately.

But I wasn’t going to admit that.

“So, you’ve been on your feet for four hours.” Beth smiled beatifically. “And we happen to have an extra Sprite with your name on it.”

I narrowed my eyes.

I hadn’t brought them any Sprites. None of the girls, or the guys taking up space at a high top on the other side of the bar, their eyes glued to their women, drank them. And okay…all the guys were staring at their respective women…except for one of them.

Cas.

He was looking at me.

He’d done it a lot.

Before he asked me out.

And he still did it after I’d turned him down.

I was a single mom of a busy five-year-old boy.

I worked long hours and jockeyed babysitters and my budget—my superpower was robbing Peter to pay Paul, lasting a few more days so that I could scrimp and save and make sure we didn’t go broke.

I didn’t have time for hockey players who dated women like they were the Daily Special (and one that was never repeated).

Clink. Clink.

I jerked, attempting to tear my gaze from the ruggedly handsome face, from the intense green eyes that were the color of the mature Douglas firs I’d grown up with, surrounding me on all sides.

The mountains and cold, crisp air.

The snow crunching beneath my boots, walking into the nearby resorts with my boots tied together and tossed over one shoulder, my skis strapped to my back, bypassing the tourists’ cars, and making good use of my season pass (earned back then from my newly emerging superpower of scrimping and saving).

God, I’d loved being out there.

I missed it now.

But…life changed and people either adapted and moved on or lived looking back.

I wasn’t much for looking back.

I had Ethan, and he needed a happy, steady mom, and that meant not looking back. Because sure as shit, if I spent all of my time focusing on my past and all the bad stuff that had happened, I wouldn’t be happy.

Nor steady.

Nor able to give Ethan what he needed.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

A crisp demand for attention. Beth’s crisp demand for attention.

Right.

Finally, I managed to focus back on the table (and made sure to ignore Beth’s arch smirk). The other woman saw too damned much.

Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “And who is the Sprite for?” A beat. “Because I know it’s not really for me.”

“You.” A grin. “Courtesy of Matt.” She inclined her head, red hair bouncing, toward the bar, where my boss was watching the table.

When our gazes connected, he smiled and nodded at the table, silently telling me to sit down.

He was always watching out for me, though thankfully, I could take care of myself nowadays—something that hadn’t been true when he’d first hired me.

Hence the spilled trays.

Now, though, I was an expert level waitress.

But he still watched out for me—albeit with less frequency, considering he was busy with his own husband and baby and had handed off a lot of the management of CeCe’s.

I was thrilled for him. He deserved to be happy.

“See?” Beth said, drawing my focus again, her lips turning up. “Even your boss says you need a break.”

I smothered a sigh. Knew I’d been bested. “Are you going to share your cheese?”

The women came in, usually once a week, and indulged in Cheese Night Extravaganza—basically, they ordered any and all types of unhealthy cheese on the menu and went to town, pounding more food down than I had ever seen anyone eat.

And they still had things like waists (minus Beth, who was acting as a surrogate and carrying twins for Pru) and sleekly muscled arms.

Seriously.

I would hate them if they weren’t so fun.

They were also highly protective of said cheese, going so far as to threaten with forks if anyone dared to so much as steal a mozzarella stick.

Stabby-minded mofos.

But—forks and stabbing aside—I liked them.

They tipped well, weren’t assholes, and had come in often enough that I’d begun to consider them friends.

Not that I had friends.

I was too busy being a mom and working and going to school and trying to keep my life together to actually do something like have friends.

Was I lonely at times? Maybe.

But I also liked to think that I was too busy to be lonely, and plus, I was used to being alone. I’d been alone for most of my life.

That was the nature of being born to a man who’d lost his wife because of me, who’d descended into grief (that was laced with no little amount of resentment because I had been the one who’d caused the death of the love of his life), who’d been solitary by nature even before he’d lost his wife.

The trees and snow and animals had been friends until I’d gotten old enough for school.

Then I’d managed to have some actual friends.

But I’d lost touch with those friends years ago. Moving across the country would do that to the convenient ties formed through shared classes and proximity.

People grew up, had their own lives.

Went to college.

Worked every spare moment and went to school and were single mothers.

Daydreamed—

Chairs screeched and, jerking, I glanced up from where I’d been absentmindedly tracing the faux woodgrain pattern of the tabletop.

My gaze hit Beth’s, who silently pushed a plate forward.

Smothered tater tots.

My stomach immediately growled. They were my favorite.

It was sweet—and unsurprising—that the thoughtful and detail-oriented Beth knew the dish was my favorite. The other woman was devious and prepared and had never met a bone she didn’t like to dig her teeth into. And good luck breaking her hold on it.

Case in point, the plate sliding and the mischief in Beth’s eyes and the slight hint of a smirk.

Because the food and Sprite had come with a side of hot hockey players.

(The result of the chair-screeching).

An extra -large side.

Smitty—one of the Breakers’ defensemen—sidled close to his shy, sweet woman, Kailey.

Oliver—a former player—looped an arm around Hazel’s middle, nuzzling a kiss into the side of his wife’s neck.

Marcel—current star forward—slid his stool right next to Pru’s, pressing their thighs together.

Raph—quiet, steady, and great on the ice—began massaging Beth’s back, an instinctual, caring gesture from the man who beat Beth out in thoughtfulness (and stubbornness) and took care of her seemingly without thought.

And the single ones, they came close too.

Squeezing stools into the already full table.

I released a thankful breath when it was Theo—another forward who made it clear he had absolutely no plans of ending his single status—who ended up next to me and not Cas—the steady defenseman…and my secret fantasy.

He was the regret I turned over in my head in the dark of night—something I had far too much time for because I worked the late shift, was up late five days a week.

Something I had far too much time for because every time Cas was close…

Well, I had a hard time remembering why I’d turned him down.

Eyes the green of pine needles, a temptation to find home in a man who might?—

No .

The temptation to find home in a man was a stupid one.

I’d tried that, and though it had ended with me having the best thing in my life—that being Ethan—I couldn’t do that again.

It hurt too much when it went wrong, when I would ultimately end up alone.

But when I looked up, my fork full of loaded tots, my belly rumbling with the urge to. Get. Them. In. My. Belly. I found it nearly impossible to ignore the calling of those tall trees, the winter cold air, the snow crunching beneath my boots.

Especially when eyes of forest green kept catching mine.