Page 35

THIRTY-FOUR

Damon

“I told you,” I snap. “There’s nothing there.”

Tera sighs and shoves a hand through her ponytail. “Damn.” She allows her arm to drop to the side and shakes her head. “I think that’s it then. The asshole is going to get off.”

I curse. “The plea deal?”

“Misdemeanors in exchange for time served.”

I curse again, barely resisting the urge to pound my fist against the wall. No, to punch it through the wall. But I manage to do some box breathing, some visualization—mostly of me turning Hiller into a bloody pulp, and in doing so, I contain my anger. “Any word from the other teams?” I grind out.

She shakes her head again.

My anger banks further, and I focus back on trying to fix this fucked-up mess. “Okay,” I say on a staccato breath. “You think you can buy us some time with the district attorney while we keep working on those other teams?”

A wince. “Not much time, but I think I can get a little.”

“Good.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “Run with that. I’ll press the other teams.”

She nods and leaves, and I’m alone in my office with thoughts I don’t want to have. If Joey just?—

No.

This time I lose hold on my temper and my fist collides with the wall with a crash.

Fucking no.

Joey doesn’t want to do it, so she’s not going to fucking do it. Not today. Not fucking ever.

And I’m not going to ask her, going to make her.

She’s been through enough.

Because I know if she hears that the case is going to shit, she’ll step up, will sacrifice herself without a second thought.

I can’t let that happen. I won’t .

I didn’t protect Kylie, didn’t protect Joey from what happened, but I can damned well protect her now.

I have to.

There’s a knock at the door, and I shake my hand out, brush away the Sheetrock dust. Then I shift the file cabinet slightly to hide the new goddamned hole in my wall.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Dammit,” I mutter, closing my eyes for a heartbeat. Then I take another breath. Calm. Steady.

Then I move to the door and pull it open.

Kylie’s standing on the other side with Joey behind her, who’s wearing an expression I’ve seen too many times over the last couple of weeks.

Worry.

No matter how hard I try to hide it, she’s still picking up on my tension.

I need to talk to her, put her at ease.

I just…need a solution for this fucked-up mess first.

“What’s up?” I ask, surveying the twosome who have gotten close.

Close enough to have a couple of Girls’ Nights that saw me kicked out of my house for the evening. Close enough that they gang up on me.

“Joey has practice,” Kylie says as she and Joey step into my office and shut the door. “But we went shopping this morning?—”

See?

A terrible twosome who drink wine, crochet terribly, watch inane TV shows, and apparently, go shopping.

“What for?” I ask.

My sister claps her hands together. “I have a new apartment to decorate!”

I scowl.

Which, because my sister lives to torment me, makes her smile. She pats my chest. “It was only a matter of time, honey.”

My scowl deepens. “I have plenty of space. There’s no need for you to move out.”

“Regardless,” she says. “I am.”

“Kylie—”

“Well,” Joey interjects. “On the note of that now painfully familiar argument, I’ll leave you to your torture.” Her fingers find mine, wrap tight, holding me in place as her eyes search my face for several moments. Then she shakes her head slightly, lips curving up into a sad smile. “So I can get on with enacting my own.”

“Get it, girl,” Kylie says.

Smile turning warm, Joey lifts up on tiptoe and presses her lips to my jaw.

I feel that deep, soothing the rough edges inside me.

She’s been careful about the PDA here at the rink—not because the guys haven’t picked up on the change in our relationship. They have—of course they have. They’re smart and gossip spreads through the organization like pollen on a windy, spring day, especially after she met with Cal…and then Cal met with me, giving us the…

Well, not really the okay so much as the not going to shitcan us for doing something that’s frowned upon.

Luckily, consent is a thing.

Along with a winning record and playoff experience.

Still, we’re not exactly throwing it in anyone’s face.

But we’re not exactly hiding it either.

“Have fun, Red,” I tell her.

Another long, searching gaze.

Then she squeezes Kylie’s arm and slips from the room.

When the door closes with a soft click, my sister turns back to me, accusation in her blue eyes. “You promised me you’d make it better. Not worse.”

I still, those words slicing through me like a sharp blade. “Kylie,” I rasp.

“What are you hiding?”

I sigh. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” She shoves lightly at my chest. “I can deal with you hiding stuff from me—I get it. You’re the overprotective older brother, but that doesn’t work in a relationship, Damon. It just doesn’t .”

“And what would you know about a relationship?” I snap.

Her inhalation is sharp, but not as sharp as the pain in her eyes.

“Shit, Kylie,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean that. I’m an asshole. I-I?—”

Fuck.

I’m fucking this up.

It’s just…it’s this goddamned secret and my fucking temper and?—

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She sighs and it’s heavy. “If I didn’t already know that something is seriously wrong then that right there would have told me.” She touches my chest. “What’s going on? I haven’t seen you like this since—” Her throat works. “Since I was hurt.”

“Kylie, I?—”

“Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to?—”

“ Tell me.”

“I—”

“Damon. Just tell me.”

“Don’t we have curtains or some shit to install at your new place? Throw pillows to fluff? A bed frame to put together?—”

“Tell me.”

“The back of the trunk is probably full of shit I need to schlep up to your place. We should go and get that done. I fly out tomorrow for that scouting trip, so if we don’t do it today then it’ll have to wait until the end of the week?—”

“ Tell me.”

Fuck. Fuck.

“And then you’ll be doing all that heavy lifting yourself?—”

“Damon,” she says quietly. “You need to cut this out. Just…stop trying to bury this shit and tell me the freaking truth.”

I can’t.

I can’t.

I’ve failed in so many ways.

I can’t fail in this too.

“For me,” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears. “Stop trying to protect me from whatever this is and please just trust me to be able to help you handle it.”

“I can’t?—”

Her face falls.

And I can’t stand it, can’t stand her thinking that I don’t trust her.

“Hiller’s going to get off.”