Page 9

September

“ B ennett Wilson is so cool!” Gunner squeals as he climbs into his booster seat, and I can’t help the sigh that slips out. “Did you know he didn’t start skating until he was five?”

“I didn’t know that. How did you find that out?”

“And now he’s the captain, Scar,” Gunner continues in amazement without answering my question.

“I know he’s the captain, Gun. But how did you know he didn’t start skating until he was five?”

“He told me. Duh!” I’m having a hard time buckling Gunner into his seat with how excited he is.

“Really? And when did he do that?” I’ve barely asked the question when there’s a knock on the rear window of my vehicle. I step back, surprised to find Bennett standing a few steps away.

“Hey, Cap!” Gunner yelps, popping his head out the door.

“Hey there, Champ,” Bennett greets him as if they’re longtime buddies. He holds up a teal, bedazzled cell phone and says, “I think this might belong to Gemma. I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but there was a Dexcom notification going off about a low sugar reading.”

Panic flares to life inside my chest until I look over and see Gemma opening up a packet of gummy bears she keeps in her crossbody bag. “ Don’t worry, I’m on it, Scar,” Gemma assures me, but it’s not enough to override my anxiety.

I place my hand on my chest, close my eyes, and take a deep, calming breath.

She’s okay. She’s in tune with her body. She isn’t having an episode. She doesn’t need to go to the hospital. You didn’t fail her . . . at least, not this time.

I’m pulled from my spiral when I feel the warmth of Bennett’s hand clasp my own. “Hey, it’s okay. She’s got it handled, don’t you Gems?”

Gems? How does he know her? And since when are they on a nickname basis?

“Sure do, Benny,” she replies, her mouth still full of gummy bears.

“Look, like I said, I wasn’t trying to be nosy, I was just concerned. My little cousin has type 1 diabetes too, so I know how important glucose monitoring is,” Bennett says in a soothing voice that is so polar opposite to the tone he’d used with me in the locker room only hours ago.

Instead of acknowledging what he just said, I turn to Gemma. “Why are your sugars low right now? Did you have anything to eat while we were at the event?”

She looks sheepish when she shakes her head. She doesn’t meet my eye as she confesses, “No, I kind of got caught up in being on the ice again. It felt . . . good. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.”

I bite my lower lip, taking time to weigh my response. “I’m so happy you were able to skate again today, Gems. Next time, just be sure to take breaks to nourish and hydrate as you need them.”

“Not sure yet if there will be a next time. But, yeah, I’m sorry I got caught up in the excitement,” she replies, finally looking at me. I see genuine remorse shining in her eyes, and I hate that for her.

“No need to apologize. Let’s get home and you can perform that song for me you’ve been working on,” I suggest .

When her eyes flare and her cheeks heat with embarrassment, I immediately realize my mistake.

I’ve just let a secret passion of hers slip in front of a complete stranger.

“I’m just going to grab your phone and then we’ll take off.

Give me a minute,” I tell them as I shut the door and move to the rear of the vehicle where Bennett is standing, looking unsure of himself as he holds Gemma’s phone in one hand and grips the back of his neck with the other.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. It wasn’t my intention to upset any of you just now. And I’m also sorry for how I acted earlier in the locker room. I was an ass,” he admits, looking awfully bashful and so unlike the confident Bennett Wilson I’ve come to know him as over the past month.

We haven’t had to interact much, but my grandfather seems to call him into his office or have him sit in on meetings that other players and alternate captains aren’t privy to.

I haven’t worked up the courage to question my grandfather on it yet, but I’ve definitely noticed that Bennett is held with higher regard than other players in my grandfather’s eyes.

It’s interesting, to say the least.

Feeling unsure of myself is something I’ve become all too familiar with since becoming their guardian, so as I stand before Bennett’s imploring gaze, I find myself shifting on my feet to get recentered. “You didn’t overstep. At least not just now. The locker room is a whole different story—”

“I’m so sorry, Scar,” he cuts in.

Holding my hand up to silence him, I continue, “Let’s just pretend that the locker room incident didn’t happen. I appreciate you bringing Gemma’s phone out here. ”

Bennett holds out my sister’s phone for me to grab. As I do, his fingers brush mine, and a surge of heat shoots up my arm and pools in my chest, leaving me a bit breathless.

Unsure of what else to say, I turn around and take a step toward the front of my vehicle.

“You’re doing a great job with them,” he says, so softly I wonder if I’m imagining things.

With my brows pinched, I face him again.

“While you were talking to the social media team, I gave Gunner a couple of pointers. He’s a good kid, told me he loves hockey, so we hit it off.

Gemma was more reserved at first, but once she started talking, she went on and on about how amazing you are. And my god, she’s so talented.”

“About that, could you keep what you overheard me asking her about to yourself?” When he stares back in confusion, I clarify, “She’s a bit self-conscious about her songwriting.”

“Oh, I was referring to her talent on the ice, but yeah, I can keep that tidbit to myself. It sounds like she has quite a few creative passions,” he murmurs.

“I keep telling her the songs are amazing, but she says I have to tell her that as her older sister.”

“If I recall, you said something about my mother lying to me about being a good singer the night we met,” he tosses back with a cocky smirk.

My cheeks heat in response to the playful lilt of his voice and the reminder of that night.

God, what I wouldn’t give to be able to go back to being a carefree twenty-one-year-old hitting on a sexy man dressed in a ridiculous outfit for even just one night.

“Well, I still can’t recall if she was telling the truth or not.

I was pretty buzzed. But when it comes to Gemma, I’m being completely unbiased when I tell you she’s so incredibly talented.

Her songs are filled with such emotion, and when she sings them while playing the piano, my heart can hardly take it.

She says she wants to learn how to play guitar, but I haven’t gotten around to signing her up for lessons.

Maybe that’ll be a good Christmas p-present,” I stutter to a stop when I realize I’m rambling, and Bennett likely wants to get on his way.

He tilts his head to the side. “She wants to learn guitar?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all this. I’m going to get them home. I’ll see you when I see you, Bennett,” I tell him, but he surprises me with his next words.

“I’ll teach her.” His offer leaves me speechless, so I just stare back at him like an idiot.

“How to play guitar, that is,” he clarifies when I still haven’t said a word. “I could come to your place to teach her, or if she’s ever around the office, I could bring my guitar there.”

What would that be like? To have Bennett in my home, taking up space with his broad body, and polluting the air with his crisp masculine scent, all while teaching my little sister to play the guitar. It sounds like a terrible temptation that I should absolutely turn down.

But I don’t, because why would I have any sense of self-preservation? Instead, I find myself nodding in response while biting back the emotion threatening to spill out from his kind offer.

As I round the vehicle, Bennett calls out, “Drive safe, Scar. I’ll text you to set up a time that works best for your schedule.”

I can’t help but smile softly to myself. “You don’t have my number.”

A moment later, my phone buzzes in the pocket of my jeans.

Unknown:

I’ve got my ways, Little Red. Talk soon.