Page 90 of Hotshot

“I don’t know,” I said…just to say something.

Grams shook her head, suddenly looking small and fragile. “You don’t talk about your feelings, never have, and I understand. It hurts. Life can be cruel, but Denny…it can be beautiful too. Don’t close yourself off. Don’t hide behind a hockey stick your whole life. It might be satisfying for a few years, but if you’re not careful you’ll wind up with a cold bed and a stick up your ass.”

I chuckled around that stupid ball in my throat. “Thanks for the visual.”

“You’re welcome.” She leaned on the table as she stood and set her gnarled, thin hand over mine. “Be brave, my boy…on the ice and off.”

“Thanks. I’ll try.”

She squeezed my fingers and toddled to the refrigerator. “Good. Now I’m making pancakes. You might as well invite those morons next door. It’ll give me a chance to yell at the tattoo boy for playing his damn music so loud.”

“You got it. Hey, Grams…”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but…you’re my hero.” To my horror, my voice cracked, and that was the kind of display that mortified my stoic grandmother.

Grams grinned through a sheen of tears. “And you’re mine. I love you, Denny boy. Very much.”

I hugged her till she squawked and shooed me out the door.

Once upon a time, I would have gone straight to the rink to lose myself on a patch of ice. Hockey hadn’t solve my problems, but it had given me purpose and had introduced me to some amazing people.

Including Hank.

Yeah, I was still sad, confused, and I had no idea how to make things right, but the sun was shining, there were pancakes on the griddle in my grandmother’s kitchen, and a group of campers waiting for me at the rink.

It was a start.

23

HANK

My heart hurt like hell. And the only cure I could think of was work.

I hired additional help in the stable so I could spend extra time at the mill. I arrived early every morning and suited up for jobs I hadn’t personally done in years. I drove the forklift, worked the kiln, and unloaded shipments. I met with the builder, the loggers, the mechanics. I set meetings to talk to leaders in the Four Forest area in the hopes of generating interest and in opening discussions about fundraising.

I didn’t linger on any specific chore, I didn’t waste time with idle chatter, and I avoided Elmwood like the plague. I was a fucking chicken. I was raw and miserable, and one “Where’ve you been?” away from a breakdown.

And yes, I was afraid of running into Denny. I’d hurt him, and I hated myself for it. I vacillated between thinking I should never have uttered those three stupid words and being glad I’d been honest. I did love him, and it sucked to know there was no way we could make it work.

Our worlds were too different. Denny would be off to preseason training soon and the media would be houndinghim, analyzing his game and debating whether he was talented enough to warrant an astronomical pay raise. No doubt it would be easier to keep up the charade that he and MK were still together than let them know he was single and bisexual. But he had to navigate that on his own.

And I had a job to do. Celebrity endorsement was a nice idea but what the mill really needed was leadership, so I rolled up my sleeves and got to it.

“Oh, good, you’re here. Your dad is on line one.” Emily pointed at the blinking red light on her console and shoved a plate of cookies at me. “I made those last night. Chocolate chip, peanut butter. They’re delicious. Don’t leave them at your desk, or I’ll be offended.”

My assistant loved me now. Go figure.

“Uh…thank you.” I gave what I hoped passed for a smile, then took the cookies into my office and picked up my phone. “Hi, Dad. How are you feeling?”

“Don’t fuss about me. I’m calling to check on you.”

“Everything is going well at the mill and?—”

“I meantyou, not the mill,” he intercepted.

“I’m fine.”