Page 15

FOURTEEN

Damon

“I love hockey,” Kylie says, her smile wide as she loads up a plate from the spread in one corner of the box.

“Since when?” I mutter. “You haven’t been to a game in years.”

“I did my time growing up.” She punches me lightly on the shoulder. “And let me say, those youth games did not have this kind of spread.”

“Which means you don’t love hockey. You love snacks ,” I correct, bumping my shoulder against hers before I reach over and snag a bottle of water.

“You say potato…”

My lips twitch, but I just twist open the lid on the bottle then move over to the seats that overlook the rink.

Warmups are done. The Zamboni has cleaned the ice. Anthems have been sung and the players have filled their requisite benches, five on each side taking their places on the ice.

Puck drop is imminent.

Which means I need to sit my ass in this chair and watch the players below do what I dream of.

What I lost.

What I’ll never have again.

I don’t regret what I did.

I do regret the fact that I haven’t stepped foot on the ice since—first because my contract was voided, then because I was on house arrest. I was lucky I had to do very little actual jail time, though still more than the asshole who hurt Kylie. And anyway, by the time I even thought about strapping on my skates again, it was too painful to get back into that headspace again.

Luckily, I had still had connections in the league.

I got a gig scouting then assisting with player development and eventually was an assistant GM for a few years before I came here.

Before I inherited something that was a hidden nightmare.

The crowd quiets and the whistle trills, players moving into position for the puck drop.

A moment later, the game is under way.

Lake wins the puck back to Riggs on defense and we’re off, moving into the offensive zone, gaining entry, getting a legitimate shot on net before play swings back the other way and we’re on the defensive.

It’s back and forth for long minutes, the crowd oohing and aahing, gasping and cheering in equal turn, and by the end of the first we’re still scoreless.

That’s okay.

That’s hockey.

Sometimes it’s a game of patience.

Sometimes it’s a grind.

Sometimes it’s a brutal battle until something good happens.

Like toward the end of the second when Storm tips a shot and sends it sailing into the upper corner of the net.

The crowd erupts, but my gaze is drawn to the bench and I feel Joey’s wide grin in my gut. She nods at Storm as he skates back to the bench, turns to Dave, our offensive coach, and tells him something that has him making a note on his tablet.

Then, just that quickly, the smile is gone and she’s focused, back to business.

“How’s that going?”

I flick my eyes to Kylie then back out at the ice. “Considering the guys just scored, it’s going pretty well.”

“With Joey,” she admonishes gently.

“It’s been two days since you and I talked, kid.”

She lifts and drops one shoulder in a careless shrug. “When has that ever stopped you before?”

“Ky,” I warn.

A warning she completely ignores.

“You’re Damon,” she murmurs. “You had a plan even before we finished the conversation.”

I turn my gaze back out to the ice, to the game, but I’m not actually seeing what’s happening, not processing or analyzing anything below.

I’m thinking about my plan to fill that emptiness in Joey.

I’m thinking about John and Beth and the obvious love they have for her—love she doesn’t seem to see or accept.

I’m thinking about what she told me, all she’s endured.

And yeah, I fucking have a plan.

I just wish it didn’t scare me fucking shitless.

* * *

After the game, Kylie and I head for the elevators.

I need to stop by my office and grab some shit for the road trip coming up in a couple of days and since I’m the pipsqueak’s ride, she’s stuck tagging along.

But when the doors open and we step off, I hear voices that surprise me.

“Look at this place, John!” Beth exclaims. “It’s so fancy!”

“It’s a hallway and some pictures, Beth,” John mutters. “It’s hardly the Ritz.”

Kylie chokes, and I glance over at her.

“Um,” she whispers, brows flying up.

But before I can explain, Beth spots us and rushes over. “Damon! Oh, my gosh! This place is so lovely!”

“Um,” Kylie whispers again, eyebrows lifting somehow higher.

“And, oh, my gosh”—she turns to Ky and grasps both of her hands—“you’re lovely too.”

“This is my sister, Kylie,” I say by way of introduction. “And, Ky, this is Beth, Joey’s mom.”

Something comes over Beth’s face, an acute kind of pain mixed with joy. Then she tucks that away, squeezes Kylie’s hands. “So nice to meet you, Kylie.”

I know my sister didn’t miss that expression either when she says gently, “It’s nice to meet you too, Beth. Did you guys watch Joey coach?”

Beth’s smile widens, but it’s John who answers. “Damn right we did.” He sticks his hand out. “John.”

Kylie shakes it. “She did great.”

John nods, mustache twitching when he grins and says, “Damn right she did.”

Ky’s eyes are dancing when she glances up at me, but before she can reply, I see a flash of red and look to the side as Joey turns the corner. She’s in a snug button down and slacks and my dick twitches at the sight of those lean curves.

Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of us all gathered near the elevators and she pauses for a heartbeat before continuing toward us.

“Hey guys,” she says, leaning in and squeezing Beth first then John. “Did you have fun?”

“We had the best time!” Beth exclaims. “You did so good, honey!”

“There were a lot of people,” John grumbles. “But you did good, Joey.”

“Thanks.” The moment stretches before she hitches a thumb over her should. “Well, I should”—her eyes flick between me and Kylie, Beth and John—“get back. I’ll see you guys in the morning before you head out on the road again?”

“Do you know Damon’s sister, Kylie?” Beth blurts.

“Oh,” Joey says gently, gaze drifting to mine, holding for a second, then sliding on as though she expected a different answer, as though she thought Kylie was another woman and she was jealous .

Why do I like that so much?

Because I’m an asshole.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kylie.” She sticks her hand out for Ky to shake.

“You too,” Kylie replies with a smile.

“I know!” Beth claps her hands together, the glee on her face sending my stomach sinking. “Kylie, you and Damon should join us for brunch tomorrow.”

“I—” Joey and I both begin at the same time.

And then stop, glancing at each other, knowing that we’re both thinking the same exact thing.

No.

No fucking way.

But the pause gives Kylie enough time to join in with Beth’s maneuvering.

“I love brunch!”

She does.

Mostly, she loves mimosas.

And she knows that I won’t deny her something she loves.

“I—” Joey begins again.

But Beth and Kylie are off and running, planning the restaurant—one that I can’t deny is really good—and the time—late enough that we’ll all get enough sleep, but early enough they’ll be able to navigate the RV out of the mountains before the sun sets.

“I—”

“That works perfectly!” Beth says once the details are confirmed. “I’m looking forward to talking to you more,” she adds conspiratorially, winking at my sister.

“You too,” Kylie says just as conspiratorially.

And hell, she winks back.

I glance at Joey, know her wide eyes mirror mine.

Same as I know…

We’re in trouble.