Page 87 of Hotshot
“Whoa. That’s nice, but you’re a star, man. You can’t put your name on shit like that. You gotta aim higher and?—”
“Nonnegotiable. I’m doing it. Put it in my contract.”
“Wait up, Denny. I?—”
I hung up and hurried down the street to rescue my Bronco from the parking lot at the ice rink.
I drove to Wood Hollow, looking for Hank, but his receptionist told me he’d left for the day. It took another twenty minutes to get back to his house in Elmwood.
I knocked on his door. No answer. I skirted the house and went to the barn. The horses were there, but no sign of Hank. I returned to the house and sat on the top step of his deck, studying the landscape—the field of emerald and gold, the endless blue sky, and the red barn in the distance—then texted him again.
Where are you?
“Here I am.”
I frowned when Hank plopped onto the deck beside me, his shirt hopelessly wrinkled, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his Stetson pulled low over his eyes. I set a hand on his knee.
“Hey, I heard about what happened.”
Hank shrugged. “Yeah. It sucks. Feels like failure.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Hmph.” He opened his palms and sighed. “It’s true what they say about me. I don’t have pure intentions. Never did. I signed up for six months and even if I don’t complete the job as promised, I’ll be compensated for my time and it’ll be more money than any one person in Wood Hollow will make in ten years. Can you blame them for hating me? ’Cause I sure as fuck can’t.”
“You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re running a business. It’s okay to have your own goals, you know. And I want to help. I’ll do the commercial. I talked to my agent an hour ago and told him I’m doing it.”
Hank quirked a tired smile. “That’s nice of you, but I don’t think that’s going to be enough now.”
“It’s public support and it’s worth a shot,” I insisted. “I bet a few other hockey players will jump in too. Support is what you need, and you have it. You never know, it might start a hiring boom. Then you can go home early, open your practice, do what you love…and be happy.”
He rolled his lips between his teeth thoughtfully, his jaw clenched. I got the feeling I’d tripped the wrong wire. This wasn’t the reaction I’d expected.
“Happy,” Hank repeated dully, yanking his hat from his head. “That’s a nice sentiment, but don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
I pressed my knee against his. “Talk to me, Hank.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t know where to begin. I’m filling holes in a sinking ship with platitudes and phony bullshit,hoping for the best when I should be swimming like hell. I can’t walk away now.”
“You’d stay…here? What about your business in Denver?” I pressed.
“There’s nothing there, Den. Just an idea.”
“But that’s your dream. Don’t give up your dream for the mill. It’s not right.”
Hank squinted at something in the distance. “I’m not giving up. I’m changing course…making an adjustment.”
“But you’ll lose time and?—”
“It was never mine to lose,” he intercepted.
Something in his tone set off an alarm in my brain.
“What do you mean?”
“I told you once that I’ve never committed to anything or anyone and seen it through to the end…and it’s true. I’m always aiming for something just out of reach. And just as it gets close or something goes wrong or I get spooked, I fuck it up…and leave. Start over. Don’t get me wrong. I love working with horses and I’m good at it, but it all began with me walking away. Here I am again. But I’m not running this time.”
“I want to say that’s good, but you don’t seem happy.”