Page 11

Penn

M ila’s eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, one hand gripping her towel and the other rubbing her scalp like she’s making sure she still has hair.

It’s awkward, as it should be.

She’s still practically naked, damp and flushed, and I can’t stop myself from dragging my gaze down her body once more. Just for a second. Just enough to feed the part of my brain that’s apparently forgotten boundaries.

“Get dressed,” I say, gruff as hell as I make my way out of the bathroom, through the bedroom and into the hallway. “Come downstairs. We need to talk.”

She nods, a little dazed, follows me through her room. I don’t move until the door clicks shut behind her.

By the time I hit the bottom of the stairs, I’m already annoyed with myself. My hands shake a little as I crouch in front of the fireplace and stack kindling. The motion grounds me, but it doesn’t stop the images from playing in my head.

Her standing there in nothing but a towel, wet hair clinging to her shoulders, looking at me like she didn’t know whether to slap me or cry.

She was beautiful. I always knew she’d grow into it, but I wasn’t prepared for how beautiful.

And I definitely wasn’t prepared for how badly I wanted to touch more than just the busted dryer stuck to her head.

It’s been a long time since I’ve reacted to a woman like that. Even longer since I let myself feel it. I’ve kept everything buried for so long, I thought maybe those parts of me had shriveled up and died along with my heart.

But Mila’s different. And that pisses me off. I don’t know what to do with it—what to do with her .

I get a wood fire going in the den hearth just as she comes down the stairs, hair brushed, damp and looking no worse for wear after her battle with the dryer.

She’s dressed in jeans and a soft pink sweater that makes her look younger than twenty-five.

I don’t have to look all that hard to see the fifteen-year-old girl who put her entire life on the line to back me up.

Mila takes the couch without being told and curls up like she belongs there. Like this is normal.

I settle into an adjacent chair, drumming my fingertips on my thighs. I’m normally not prone to nervousness, but Mila’s got me all messed up today. I focus and get down to business, forcing aside images of her naked body.

“I went to see our general manager, Callum Derringer this morning. He was meeting with the team’s owner—”

“Brienne Norcross,” Mila says, and I blink in surprise that she knows her name.

Mila smirks. “Oh, come on… everyone knows who Brienne Norcross is. She’s like the patron saint of badass women.”

I stare at her, a bit slack-jawed.

Mila looks almost disappointed. “You didn’t think I’d just give up on hockey, did you? That I’d stop watching or caring about it?”

“Well,” I hedge, not sure what I was thinking. “Your dad and brother were the driving force behind the sport in your family.”

“And I was a big Wraiths fan and watched your practices and went to all your games. It’s in my blood, same as you, Penn. I never gave up on the sport, and so yeah… I know who Brienne Norcross is. And I’ve also followed your career, obviously.”

I don’t know why that pleases me so much, but once again, I’m forced to put such irrelevant feelings aside.

“At any rate, I told Brienne and Callum everything,” I say, turning my gaze to the fire.

“Everything?”

“Yeah.” I look at her. “From start to finish. The hazing. Nathan’s death. What you and I did to make things right. How our lives turned out so wrong. The threats. You. What happened with McLendon. The teddy bear. All of it.”

She doesn’t respond right away. “And… what did they say?”

“They’re concerned,” I drawl, rubbing at my jaw. “Brienne offered to bring in the police. Offered security.”

Her brows rise slightly. “Let me guess—you turned it down.”

I shrug. “Didn’t want the attention. Don’t want this to turn into a circus if it’s nothing other than some asshole trying to frighten you.”

“Well, I’m scared,” she says quietly, and I regret diminishing that.

“I know, and that’s why I’m going to help you find out who’s doing this and we’ll put a stop to it.”

She gives me a small smile. “Thank you for believing me. And for not discounting it.”

I wave an impatient hand at her, not wanting to fall prey to her gratitude. I don’t want to lapse back into the easy friendship we had all those years ago. I’ve spent a lot of time creating a life where I only count on myself.

Am only responsible to myself.

I will help Mila out, because it also helps me, and that’s the only reason she’s here.

Liar.

I ignore my inner voice and tell her, “I also called McLendon.”

Her eyes widen, her mouth, framed by lips that are way too plump, falling open in shock. “You did what?”

“You heard me just fine,” I say with a grimace. “We didn’t talk long, but I wanted to get a read on him. See if he was involved.”

“And?”

“He seemed clueless about it and even a little concerned on your behalf. Actually put aside his hatred of me—”

“Us,” she clarifies.

“Us,” I agree, “and heard me out. Said he hasn’t talked to Peter or Jace since they got locked up. He told me where Ryan and Colton are—both still in Minnesota. Real estate and gym ownership. He doesn’t think they’d be behind this.”

Mila lifts a naturally arched eyebrow a little higher in skepticism. “Do you trust him?”

A bark of laughter erupts from me. “I don’t trust anyone. And he made it clear on the call that he still thinks I’m a traitor.”

“You are not a traitor,” Mila exclaims angrily, shooting off the couch and standing before me. “Don’t ever let me hear you call yourself that again.”

I’m stunned by the fury in her words and partly touched that she cares enough to make her complaint known. I shake my head with a small smile. “I didn’t call myself that. He did, but I don’t ever forget that’s the way I’m viewed because of my actions.”

“And why you don’t trust anyone,” she murmurs, taking a step back and sinking down onto the cushion again.

She sounds so sad about that and it also touches me.

No one’s been sad for me for a very long time.

Because it gets me in the feels, I move on, needing to put this crap in the back seat where it belongs.

“While I don’t trust McLendon, he sounded genuine when he said he didn’t know who was behind this.

He also said he didn’t think Ryan and Colton could be involved. Seems to think they’ve moved on.”

“But he can’t be sure, which means we don’t know anything more from him than what we knew before.” Mila shakes her head. “Too many people who hate us.”

“Yeah, it’s a fucking mystery though. Who hates you enough to try to hurt you is the real question.” I shift forward in the chair. “Which is why I need to know exactly what you’ve done to get help.”

She blinks. “I told you… I went to the police.”

“When? Where?”

“Boca Raton. That’s where I lived with my aunt. After a handful of text messages, I thought I should get help.”

“And what did you show them?”

“The texts,” she says. “At first, they weren’t too bad. Just generic threats. They couldn’t trace the number—most likely from a burner. But they said it probably wasn’t Peter because he was still in prison.”

“Which is what we’ve concluded, unless he’s got someone doing the dirty work for him. Then what?” I press, wanting to know all of it so I can decide what still needs to be done.

“I went back again when I got the emails. I thought they could find out where they came from.” I can hear her anger. “But the emails hadn’t turned violent yet. Just creepy, so they didn’t take it seriously. Told me to block the sender. Use filters.”

“Have you gone back since they got worse?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

I narrow my eyes. “Anything else? Have you asked anyone else for help?”

She hesitates, her gaze dropping, and it seems she might be hiding something. My spider senses tingle. “I need to know everyone who might have knowledge of this.”

Mila flushes and I think it might be guilt, but I discount that after I hear the sadness in her tone. “I called my mom.”

I blink in surprise. “Oh.”

“First time since I left,” looking away from me. Her reply is so soft I barely catch it.

“You don’t talk to them at all?”

“No.” She lifts her eyes, a half-smile on her face. “Not once since my aunt took me in.”

I wasn’t quite sure what the residual family dynamics looked like in the Brennan family, but I don’t want to poke too deep so I stick to the call she made. “What happened with your mom when you reached out to her?”

“She listened,” Mila says, her voice cracking slightly. “I told her about the threats. Said I was scared. And she told me there’s no way Peter could’ve done it and then… she hung up on me.”

My jaw clenches so hard it hurts. “Jesus. How can they do that to you?”

She shrugs. “They’ve always believed what happened to Nathan was a mistake. A horrible accident. They said prison was too harsh. That since Peter felt guilty, it should’ve been enough punishment.”

“They blamed you entirely for what happened to him,” I say, almost growling. That’s beyond unimaginable. I mean, I get that I was blamed by players and the community, but Mila’s own parents turned against her for doing the morally responsible thing.

“Yeah.” Her eyes have a sheen to them, but she blinks a few times and they clear.

“I stood by what I did. I told them Peter may not have meant to kill Nathan, but he did mean to humiliate him. To make him suffer. He gave him that alcohol. Beat him with that hose. Laughed when he puked. Left him naked on the locker room floor to die.” She pauses, her bitterness evident.

“I could never get it out of my head… the way they laughed that night.”

My gut twists, because I was laughing too. Not because I thought it was funny, but because… well, I don’t know why I did it, and it claws at my gut. “I remember that too,” I say quietly. “I was one of the people laughing.”

Mila nods, her expression bearing an empathy I don’t deserve. “It shocked me as I was listening… to hear you laugh about it. But it was clear in that conversation that you had nothing to do with it. I could tell by listening to you that you were uncomfortable.”

“Doesn’t excuse the way I behaved,” I mutter.

“No, but you more than made up for it. Without you, Nathan’s death would have meant nothing.”

I don’t want or need her absolution. It’s my cross to bear, so once again, I turn the spotlight off me. “And your parents… just disowned you or something?”

She nods, her chin sticking out a bit in defiance.

“They tried to talk me out of testifying. They begged me but I couldn’t turn my head the other way, even if it meant Peter went to prison.

My dad was furious after I set the wheels in motion by going to the police.

He was screaming at me. He said, ‘I’d kick you out of this house if you weren’t a minor.

You ruined everything for this family.’”

I’m stunned. “So, what happened?”

“I called my aunt. Hysterical. She drove from Florida to Minnesota overnight. Showed up at our house and demanded they hand me over. My dad didn’t fight her. My mom practically shoved me out the door.”

“And this was your mom’s sister?” I hazard a guess.

Mila nods. “Needless to say, she’s not on speaking terms with my mom anymore. Dorene’s not just an aunt. She became my mother.”

I’m relieved to know that Mila had someone to support her. That person for me would’ve been my dad had he not died, and I know it probably would’ve made a world of difference in the way I am now. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Mila offers a tiny smile. “No. Neither of us deserved the fallout.”

“Brienne offered to call her police contacts. Maybe we should take her up on it.”

Mila sighs. “I don’t know. They didn’t care before. Why would they now?”

I wasn’t confident they’d be able to help either, merely from the standpoint that it was nothing more than anonymous threats. I stand up, pacing toward the window. “Then I’ll hire a private investigator. Someone to look into all the guys—Peter, Jace, Ryan, Colton. Even McLendon.”

She blinks. “Penn… that’s expensive. You don’t have to—”

“I can afford it,” I cut in. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”

She watches me, eyes soft. “Then that could be good.”

Again, something seems off with her. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Something that could be helpful?”

Her expression turns completely blank. “No, of course not.”

But I’m not sure I believe it. I could press her on it, but if Mila is anything like me, trust is earned. And she doesn’t have a lot of reason to trust me based on my most recent refusal to help her.

“Okay. I’ll look into an investigator. In the meantime, you can’t go anywhere alone. We don’t know what or who is out there.”

“But… I can’t be a prisoner.”

“If you need to go somewhere, I’ll go with you.”

She blinks in surprise, and I can’t quite decipher the expression on her face.

“And by the way,” I add, “Brienne’s demanding you go to the game tomorrow. Sit in the owner’s box.”

Mila’s mouth parts. “What?”

“She wants you there. Said it’s not fair for you to be locked up like Rapunzel.”

I wait for her to push back. To argue.

Instead, she smiles softly. “I’ve never seen you play in person. At least, not since the Wraiths.”

That… hits differently than I expect.

“Well,” I say, grabbing my phone, “you’re about to.”