Page 95 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Twenty-Four

Jules

I didn’t miss the wince cross Cas’s face as he jerked away from me, even as Ethan’s shriek of joy reminded me we had an audience of very nosy hockey players.

Who would gossip.

And pry.

And would want to know every detail—each of which would be shared with their equally nosy significant others.

I loved the guys—and their significant others—who came into CeCe’s.

I really did.

They’d always been fun and kind and had made me feel like I was part of something, even when I was more comfortable (and determined) remaining on the sidelines.

But I didn’t want to be in the glare of all that attention.

There was a reason I’d kept a fine line between myself and them.

I couldn’t risk letting them in, not deeper than superficially, anyway. I couldn’t risk getting hurt.

Couldn’t risk Ethan getting hurt.

All of which was well and good to say and think and believe. Except for the fact that people— cough Smitty and Beth and Cas —had decided that they were going to walk right over the line in the sand I’d drawn.

That they were going to wriggle in behind my defenses, bury themselves deeply into my heart.

So, despite my best intentions, I wasn’t on the sidelines.

And that meant when it all went wrong, it was going to hurt.

And Ethan would hurt.

My heart, that bruised, wounded organ, squeezed hard. My baby, my son . I should have protected him from this, should have?—

Laughter boomed behind me.

Jerking, I took another step back, turned away from the sexy man who was making himself at home in my heart, and saw that my getting close to Cas had definitely not been missed (this fact obvious because of the many pairs of interested eyes focused on me and Cas).

Right. Okay, then.

The gossip patrol for the Breakers had been activated. There was nothing to be done about that.

Ethan…he would have a great night, the best night. And I would protect him, no matter what. Exactly like I had from the time he’d been growing in my belly.

I would keep him safe.

I’d done a good job so far, and had confidence that I would continue to do so.

I had to believe in that one fact.

Otherwise, I was going to bundle Ethan up in my arms and run screaming from the room because between my need to protect my baby and the fact that I was very much not on the periphery, I was nearing panic.

Fingers on my cheek, a warm chest close to my back, lips I knew could kiss and reduce me to a bundle of aching nerves whispering in my ear. “Breathe, gorgeous.”

Air hissing out of my mouth.

My body aching to relax, to melt against him.

Not going to happen.

And as for the eyes, they would see soon enough that there wasn’t anything between me and Cas—minus a few kisses and some apples and pancakes—and those were nothing (insert my slightly hysterical laughter here).

Cas was just doing a nice thing for my son, all of them were, so none of this meant anything (and yeah, there was more laughter here, this time of the delusional variety).

Speaking of my son, I should probably be paying attention to Ethan.

Yup.

I definitely needed to watch my kid—while at the same time avoiding getting even closer to the sexy hockey player who was standing close, the smell of soap and spice filling my nose.

I needed to avoid that sexy hockey player who was pretending not to hurt while he showed my son around and generally made Ethan’s night, his year, his life.

The thing was…I knew too much about buried pain.

Which meant, as much as I knew I needed to retreat to the sidelines, I also knew…I was going to be an idiot.

Because I wasn’t going to retreat.

Because I hated that Cas was hiding his hurts.

Of course, I could hate it without doing anything about it, without crossing my own line, without being an idiot and risking my and Ethan’s hearts.

I could do that.

Sure .

“Whoa! You’re so tall, Smitty!” Ethan said, and I shook my head (shaking the tangled thoughts right out of my brain) and focused on the scene that was unfolding in front of me.

Just in time to watch my son six-plus feet in the air.

Literally. Because he was sitting on Smitty’s shoulders, and the tall hockey player was inexplicably jumping straight up and down. Repeatedly.

“Um…” I whispered, thinking that if this was how professional hockey players passed their time on this team, then they were a hell of a lot tamer than I’d previously thought.

Fried cheese. Excited jumping. A maniacal, blue-furred stuffed creature propped in a place of honor on a shelf by the door.

These guys were weird .

“He’s trying to touch the lucky spot.”

I blinked. Okaaay. That explanation wasn’t any better.

“Um…” I whispered again.

Cas set his hand on the back of my neck, tilted my head slightly up and to the side. “Right there. See?”

I squinted, saw there was a… oh , I saw it then. There was a sticker with the Breakers logo stuck to the ceiling, almost hidden between two of the industrial tiles that formed the top of the room.

“I almost…” Ethan grunted and stretched as Smitty jumped again and his fingertips just brushed the sticker. “Got it!”

Smitty whooped.

Some of the guys cheered.

Ethan pumped his arms like he’d just completed a herculean task.

Cas chuckled, called in a voice that sent warmth flowing through every single cell in my body, “Nice job, buddy.”

Ethan, still on top of Smitty’s shoulders, turned and smiled at Cas, and that smile told a truth that smacked me hard enough to make me see stars. Ethan had that same warmth flowing through him. My kid was in deep too.

Panic, writhing and choking, swept through me.

“Breathe, gorgeous.” Another whisper. Another touch of his fingers to my cheek.

How the fuck was I supposed to breathe?

This was all wrong.

And…this was so fucking right, more right than anything I’d ever felt in my life.

This was…almost a fairy tale.

Except, my life didn’t bring me happy endings, so I needed to stop that shit right here.

Right here.

I bundled that determination close, glanced up at Cas, lips parting to pass along my decision, but my words promptly stoppered up in the back of my throat. Because the look on his face as he watched Ethan hit me. Hard . And then he glanced down at me, gave me that same warmth and affection and?—

My brain short-circuited.

My big, dumb heart took over.

I found myself reaching up, smoothing my thumb over the prickly hair on his cheeks that was hiding a taut jaw, the lines fanning lightly out from the corners of his eyes.

Cas was hurting. He was here giving me and Ethan warm while he was hurting.

And throughout it all, he wasn’t impatient, wasn’t annoyed.

He was just…Cas.

Click .

More armor unlocking.

More of my heart exposed.

“We should let you get back to the trainer,” I murmured, gently brushing the creases near his eyes again. “You really need to get those ribs looked at.”

His big, warm palm was still resting on the side of my neck.

My words had his fingers flexing, turning my head toward him now, and—oh look—his face was right there .

And his lips were right there. And the memories were right there , flowing through my mind, making me remember exactly how it felt to kiss him, how it felt to touch him, how it felt to see him in my kitchen making pancakes, how it felt to have his warmth shining on me.

“I’m fine, gorgeous.” Another squeeze before his hand slid down, smoothing between my shoulder blades, settling at my lower back. “Promise.”

“But—”

“Smitty!” he called, and I jumped again, my body brushing against all the hardness of his, and hell if I didn’t feel that right between my thighs.

Smitty turned, Ethan still on his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Let my guy down.” Cas’s hand slipped around to hook on my hip, tugging me close to his side. “I have more to show them.”

Yeah.

That was what I was afraid of.