Hot Shot (Hot as Puck Book 2)

5. Blake

When I reach the bedroom door I glance over my shoulder at a slumbering Bran and wonder how long it will last.

If I read him right, as well as the evidence in the living room, he hasn’t consumed more than three quarters of a bottle. Not enough to be worried about unless we’re talking hangovers.

Finding the house empty, I head to the front door and see Oakley and Walker in the driveway. I assume she’s pumping Walker for any information he might know about my relationship with Bran.

Years ago, I kept her, Nat, and Cami in the dark about how close Bran and I had gotten. And when he got married, I saw no reason to enlighten them.

Especially when I knew they’d only worry about me and in all likelihood, smother me in their love and concern. Not that there’s anything wrong with that but at the time I wasn’t ready to expose the wounds Bran getting married had given me.

When the news he’d snuck off and married Celeste—that they were expecting a baby—had broken, I’d been more confused than angry. Although anger should have won out.

He’d gone and done the very things that had kept us from crossing the line of friendship to lovers.

The things neither of us had wanted yet.

The things we’d talked about having in the future—together.

Giving myself a mental slap, I pull myself out of my head and focus on now. “Oakley.”

Two sets of concerned eyes turn toward me but it’s Oakley who speaks.

“Yeah.”

Her gaze bores into mine like she can read my mind, like if she looks hard enough she can find the answers to the questions I know she has.

“I’m staying. Give me a few days and I’ll let you know if we need to keep looking or if Bran is joining us.”

“You’re staying here?”

I see her concern, those questions that must be burning her tongue, but I can’t take the time to explain. “For now.”

“Should I worry about you? What that was about?”

Shaking my head, I give her a small smile. “No. We’re good. I’m good.”

“I don’t want to leave if?—”

“I’ll be fine. Bran isn’t who the media made him out to be.” I know I’m going on past behavior, that him up and marrying Celeste and shutting me out proved what I knew to be a lie, but I didn’t accept it then, I can’t accept now. I’ve known him for years, since the scrawny six-year-old turned up at our house and began training with my dad like the rest of us.

“No one ever is,” Oakley says, pulling in a deep breath. If anyone knows about the bullshit often printed in the media, it’s her. “Okay, keep me posted. If I don’t hear from you in…three days, I’m coming back.”

“You won’t have to. Promise.” I won’t need to worry about her coming back at that deadline. I’ll be in touch before that, and I’m determined to be at my parents’ place—with Bran—by then anyway.

Coming up the steps she pulls me into a tight hug and whispers, “Call for anything, doesn’t have to be about the Rogues.”

“Thanks. Safe trip home.” When I pull away, I wave to Walker and call out, “See you later, Cap.”

“Cap?” Oakley asks.

I’m smiling now. My first real smile since we found Bran on the floor and my heart dropped from my chest to join him. “It’s what Bran called him. I forgot he was captain of the Knights. See you both later.”

I slip back inside and close the door. I know they have questions, especially Oakley, and probably want to stick around and help, but this needs to be only me and Bran for now. We need to know—okay, I need to know—that we can pull some of the remnants of our previous friendship together before either of us can decide if we’re able to work together, and we can’t do that with others around.

A quick check on Bran shows he’s still sleeping in what appears to be peaceful slumber, although I’m not sure anyone who’s been through what he has can ever find peace.

Leaving him to his post-breakdown nap, I close the bedroom door except for a few inches, and explore the rest of the house.

There’s one more bedroom, barely big enough for the bed in it but at least it’s not a twin. A small functional bathroom across the hall has no wet towels or toiletries so I assume there’s a second one off Bran’s room. The living room and dining are one space with the wall that faces the trees behind the house made up of windows.

From out front, the house looks rundown and possibly inhabitable, but inside…

Inside is a revelation.

Gannon Byrd must have fixed the place up for his grandmother after he made the NHL. As I look around, I see little touches that wouldn’t have come from him or Bran. They have to be left over from the woman who lived in this house her entire life, raised Gannon in from the time he was four.

Heading for the kitchen, I grab a roll of paper towels and go back to clean up the mess Oakley made.

I can’t say I agree with her method, but she certainly got Bran’s attention.

Something I haven’t been able to do in years.

Maybe now, with both of us stuck here, he’ll have to talk to me. Have to let me in.

The crushing embrace he gave me before he broke down says there’s a crack in his armor that wasn’t there before. And all I need is a thin break, just enough to wiggle in and find my old friend.

I’d ignored Corbin’s and Landon’s words when they told me he wasn’t the same man, now and when he’d first cut me out of his life. I understood the need to change our friendship after he had a wife but the complete severing of it in such an abrupt way didn’t seem like Bran at all.

I hate to point fingers and I know I hold a small amount of jealousy toward Celeste, but how could I not?

She got what we’d talked about. What we’d decided to wait for.

God! I let him talk me into waiting until?—

“Blake?”

The anguished cry has me dropping the roll of towels and running in the direction of the bedrooms only to collide with Bran as he bursts into the hall. Bouncing off his hard chest, I crash into the wall and would have landed on the floor if he didn’t have lightning quick, hockey-honed reflexes.

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. I was rushing.” Something I need to put a stop to. I might want him for the team, might want to try to rekindle our friendship, but I can’t let myself be consumed by him and his needs no matter how much I want to make him feel better.

“I thought you were a dream.” His hands tighten on my upper arms, his eyes searching mine. “Are you really assistant coach for the new NHL team?”

“Baton Rouge Rogues. We’re the Rogues.”

The grin he gives me does crazy things to my belly. It’s swooping and twisting and I know I’m fucked.

There’s no way I can stop my old feelings from resurfacing—for the hurts that have festered for years from oozing out to taint what is now.

“The Rogues, huh? So what, Walker is Captain Rogue?”

“Oh my god! That’s it!” Pulling from his grip I race back to where I left my bag. Searching inside, I grab my phone and fire off a quick text to the girls.

Team mascot. Captain Rogue. Pirate.

Nat

Love it!

Oakley

That fits perfectly!

Cami

Good job, Blake.

Wasn’t me. Bran came up with it. I’ll explain later. Gotta get back to securing our hot shot.

“I’ve missed that smile.”

Bran’s voice has my head snapping up. His words may say he’s happy to see me but the frown on his face doesn’t. “That’s not a good thing?”

“What? No. Missing you is not a good thing. It’s horrible. Gut scraping.”

“Then why wouldn’t you answer my calls? Why did you cut me off—” I throw up a hand. “You know what, I don’t want to get into that right now. I haven’t eaten since the plane. What have you got in the way of food?”

I don’t give him a chance to argue when I brush past him and head for the kitchen. Seeing him again is dragging up things I thought I’d be okay handling. Except I don’t think I am. And while I still think securing him for the team is the right thing, I’m rethinking my idea that I’m the right person to convince him.

“If the offer is real, I’ll take it.”

I spin around to find Bran right behind me.

So close.

Too close.

Taking a step back, my butt bumps up against the kitchen counter. “What?”

“If the offer to play for the team, the Rogues, is real. I’ll take it. Do you have a contract here?”

“Don’t you want to know the deal? Talk it over with your agent?”

“He dropped me.”

“Oh.”

“Are you the assistant coach. Is Walker head?”

I nod. “Yes, to both.”

“Then it’s three yeses. I want on your team. When do we start?”

“Bran, you should…” What am I doing? Am I going to talk him out of what we want? “Before you agree, I’ve got a condition. I want to head home and do some training with you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We stay here. For the next week. We stay here and clear the stuff between us before we go anywhere else.”

“And if I say no to doing that?” Is he trying to blackmail me with his agreement to join the Rogues?

“I’ll sign a contract after you give me the week.” He steps closer and everything in me wants to retreat but I’ve got nowhere to go.

“Bran.”

“Please. Give me the week.” He swallows hard, rakes a hand through his hair. “It’ll take me that long to explain everything.”

“I don’t need to know?—”

“You do. Most might not, but you, yeah, you deserve to know. You deserve everything and once I’ve explained things, if you can still bear to look at me, I’ll join your team and play the hardest I’ve ever played. I’ll do it for you because I owe you.”

“You owe me noth?—”

“Everything. I owe you everything.”