Page 9

Nine

Dash

Normally, I really enjoy my solitude.

I go to work, spend time with my friends and family, and then come home to peace and quiet. It’s how I wind down, reflect on the day, and center myself. It’s something I’ve done since leaving the military, and it’s part of me.

I tend to resent any change to that routine.

And yet, I don’t mind having Willow around.

In fact, I’m starting to crave her company. Sharing meals together—like our late-night snack—and just hearing her voice make me happy.

It’s almost seven and I’m starving, but I don’t want to eat without her, so I put the meatloaf in the oven and plan to wake her from her nap in a few minutes.

Instead, she surprises me; I was so lost in thought I didn’t hear her coming down the stairs.

“Hudson?”

“Hey, princess.” I turn with a smile.

Fuck, she takes my breath away.

“How are you? Ready for dinner?”

“Did you wait for me?” she asks in surprise. “It’s late.”

“It’s always better to eat together instead of alone. Food’s already in the oven. I hope you like meatloaf.”

“I love it. Thank you.” She gracefully sinks down on the large leather sectional and then stares at the TV. “Vipers are winning—yay! Go SoCal!”

That’s another surprise. “I didn’t take you for a hockey fan,” I say.

She cocks her head, curiosity in her eyes. “Hollywood princesses can’t like hockey?”

I chuckle. “Of course they can. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion. You just don’t seem like a hockey fan, but that’s a bias on my part.”

“Well, just so you know, I love hockey in general, but the Vipers are my team. I have three different jerseys, four T-shirts, more pucks than I can count, a couple of baseball caps, and Banks Christianson is my absolute favorite. He’s dreamy .”

She actually giggles, and a sharp twinge of jealousy catches me off-guard.

Banks is a good-looking bastard. Women love him. Almost as much as they loved Colt back in the day. I’m no slouch, but I don't compare to my enigmatic best friend.

“You know he’s part of my family, right?” I ask quietly.

“Wait—the Banks you talked about is Banks Christianson ?” Her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh! I somehow didn’t put that together. I will totally fangirl if I ever meet him.”

“His fiancée probably won’t like that,” I say dryly.

“I didn’t say I want to sleep with him.” She frowns, a flash of hurt in her eyes. “He’s extremely attractive, but more than that he’s an amazing hockey player. I mean, his stats have always been impressive and he’s killing it this season…”

I open my mouth but then close it again.

I need to stop being an ass. Thousands of women love Banks—as a hockey player.

They're not in love with the man, just the fantasy he provides as a pro athlete. It’s part of the job.

There are probably hundreds of thousands of men who fantasize about Willow.

It goes with the territory when you’re a celebrity, whether you’re an athlete or a rock star or an actor.

I know all of this, so I don't understand what the hell is wrong with me.

I don't get jealous.

Certainly not over a woman I barely know because she happens to be a Vipers fan.

“Yeah,” I say after a moment. “He’s always been amazing. We played together in college. I was nowhere near the player he was, though, which is why he went pro and I went into the military.”

“You were in the military? You didn’t mention that. Which branch?” She looks genuinely interested.

“Marines.”

“Thank you for your service,” she says quietly. “I don’t get a chance to say that very often, but what you guys do—anyone who serves—is important. I never take it for granted.”

“Thank you.” I nod. “I would have played pro hockey if I was good enough, but it was obvious early on that it wasn’t going to happen so I already had my Plan B in place. Colt and I both went into the military.”

“Colt.” She frowns. “Your friend…the one who passed away?”

We’d talked until five in the morning the night before last, and I forgot that I told her about him.

“Yeah.” I sigh, always reluctant to talk about him to strangers.

I’m not sure why either. He was a great guy.

My friend—my brother —and one of the best people I’ve ever known.

Deep down, I guess it’s because I miss him but it’s not easy to articulate that kind of vulnerability outside the family.

“It’s hard to talk about him. Losing him was…

rough. Probably the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. ”

“Then tell me more about the Vipers,” she says, a smile on her pretty face. “Do you go to all the games?”

“Not all of them, but as many as I can. Recent hip replacement aside, I travel for work a lot, so I’m not always here. And we alternate staying home with Frankie if it’s an evening game, because she can’t stay awake that late.”

“Makes sense— yes !” She lets out a yell as Magnus Forsberg sinks the puck into the net, giving the Vipers a three-goal lead.

“Fuck yeah!” I pump my fist. The guys are out of town tonight, so I wouldn't have been at the game regardless, but I enjoy watching them on TV almost as much as in person.

My phone rings, and I see Briar’s name on the screen.

“My sister,” I tell Willow. “I better grab it or she’ll come looking for me.” I tap at the screen. “Hey, sis.”

“What a game!” she says enthusiastically.

“It is,” I agree.

“I wish you'd come over to watch with us. Frankie will probably fall asleep soon and we could catch up.”

“Catch up on what?” I ask. “I haven’t left the house except to go to PT. There is literally nothing to catch up on.” I glance at Willow, who playfully arches her brows.

“Did it ever occur to you I might have something to tell you?” she asks wryly.

“Do you?”

“No, but you didn't know that.”

I laugh. “Seriously, I’m taking it easy physically, making sure the business is running smoothly while I’m out of commission, and doing my physical therapy. Everything here is cool.”

“Frankie misses you.”

That hits home because I love my niece. I love my sister, too, she’s just a pain in the ass sometimes.

“I’ll see her Sunday,” I say. “I’ll be there for dinner.”

Briar sighs. “Okay. But you’ll call if you need anything, right?”

“I’m fine, Briar. Really. Doc says I can drive in another week.” I gentle my voice. Briar is a mother hen, and while it can be annoying, I know it comes from a place of love. We’re family by blood and by choice.

“Don't rush it, okay? I want you to heal.”

“I’m healing and doing what I’m told. Promise.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” I disconnect and catch Willow watching me.

“I’ve always wanted a sister,” she murmurs. “But my mother didn’t want more kids.”

“Briar and I have always been close. She was this tiny little red-haired angel when she was born and I loved being a big brother. Almost as much as I love being an uncle now.”

“Being an only child means I’ll never be an aunt,” she says sadly.

“Don't you have girlfriends?” I ask. “Besties whose children would call you Aunt Willow?”

“Not anymore.” She looks away. “Dylan isolated me from my friends. To be fair, I was pretty wild in my teens. That’s kind of how this started. I rebelled against my mom and was partying like crazy. Alcohol, drugs, sex—I was living it up. That's when my mother took control of my money away from me.”

“That’s understandable,” I say. “What I don't understand is why she gave control to Dylan.”

“I think initially she was afraid I would start partying again. I was twenty-one when we met, and he was a calming force in my life. In the beginning, he was good for me. Older, settled, successful… just what I needed. Or at least, that’s what I thought.

Mom figured it would be a bridge to keep me grounded while I grew up. Her words, not mine.”

“And your mom doesn’t know he uses that money to control you?”

She rolls her eyes. “She thinks he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. It’s ridiculous how much she loves him. I think Dylan gives her a stipend every month to keep her out of our business.”

“He pays your mother to stay away from you?”

“I don’t know for sure, I’m just guessing, but yes, I think so.”

“There has to be something you can do.”

“My mother got power of attorney when I was seventeen. It’s still in effect. I don't know how to change it, and I don't have the money to hire an attorney to help me.”

The oven’s timer goes off, and I get to my feet. “We can talk about that over dinner, but that was the oven.”

“Great. Let me help.” She pads into the kitchen ahead of me and though I do my best not to stare at the sway of her ass, I honestly can’t help myself.

She’s a natural beauty. No makeup, hair in a ponytail, wearing one of my old robes—she still takes my breath away.

There’s no universe where I’m anything but a gentleman, but fuck, she’s making it hard.

Making me hard.

I’ve had a hard-on since she got here, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.