Hot Shot (Hot as Puck Book 2)

27. Blake

Bran has barely touched his dinner. He’s sampled everything but nothing more than a bite or two of each has passed his lips.

Leaning over I whisper, “Not hungry?”

“No.” The look he gives me makes me want to wrap my arms around him and tell him it’ll be okay. And while I believe that, I’m sure things are going to be rocky before they’re okay.

“Should I put that in the fridge for you, Branton?” Mom asks. “In case you get hungry later.”

“I… Yes, but I can do it.” He pushes back from the table and picks up his plate. “Can I clear anyone else’s?”

“We’ll do it later. Why don’t you grab that second bottle of wine off the counter on your way back? I think another glass for everyone might get us through the next few minutes.” Mom’s smile is small, a gentle curve of her lips, and her eyes are full of worry, compassion.

I want to wrap my arms around her too. I want to protect the big man next to her as well.

If I could, I’d travel back in time and slap both my brothers upside the head. Knock some sense into them before they did a stupid thing and both fucked Celeste.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

When Bran is out of earshot, Dad leans over the table and asks, “How bad?”

Shrugging, I try to offer a smile but I know it falls short of being reassuring. “Bad-ish. And good.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“It’s the one I’ve got.”

“Okay, tell me, do I need to go out and take care of someone?”

“No. They—” Shaking my head, I rethink my words. I don’t want to reveal anything. It’s Bran’s story to tell. “He needs you to listen and understand why he did what he did. And I need you to remember he removed himself from life the last few years to punish himself for what happened.”

“I hid away because I’m a coward.” Bran’s voice has us all swinging around.

I have no idea how long he’s been standing there and as much as I want to apologize for talking about him, I won’t. I said nothing I wouldn’t say in front of him. “You are not a coward.”

“I agree. Sometimes things take a while for us to understand, to work out, and some things require a long time to do it.”

“I appreciate the words, Larissa, but when it comes down to it, I was hiding so I wouldn’t have to face this. And to keep what was never mine a little longer.”

“I think you better sit down and explain.” Dad indicates Bran’s chair and holds out his hand. “Give me the wine, I’ll pour while you talk.”

Sitting beside me again, Bran reaches for my hand and grips it tight. “I woke after a party one weekend with Celeste in bed with me. I didn’t remember the night before so when she said we slept together I had no choice but to believe her.”

“You sound like you shouldn’t have,” Dad interrupts.

“I’m getting to that,” Bran says as I say, “Let him talk.”

Mom sends me a look, one that says she knows there’s been a change in our relationship. “Please, ignore the man who lacks patience unless it’s on the ice and go on, Branton.”

“I put it out of my mind until she showed up at my place a few weeks later with a positive pregnancy test and a request for money. Money to get rid of the problem. As much as I wanted to hand over some cash and be done with Celeste, I couldn’t do it.”

“Of course not!”

Mom eyes Dad with the quelling look she used to give us as kids when she wanted us to be quiet or behave.

“Sorry. Go on.”

I can’t help but smile when Dad sits back and rests his hands in his lap. It won’t last long. He’s always been vocal and not afraid to speak his mind.

“Long story short, I convinced her to have the baby, to marry me. In hindsight it was probably the wrong thing to do but at the time I didn’t see any other option. Things between us were not good. Actually, they were bad. Really bad. We fought all the time and when Laura was born, Celeste didn’t want to do anything for her, didn’t want anything to do with her.”

Bran reaches for his glass and takes a few big gulps. Probably for courage and to stall, to shore himself up for what he needs to reveal next. Placing my free hand on the pair we have entwined, I give him an encouraging squeeze.

“I thought things would be okay because I’d talked Celeste into getting a divorce, to signing over parental rights, to leave Laura with me.” He swallows another mouthful of wine. “She, Celeste, tried to hook up with a guy she’d been with before. I don’t know all the details but it didn’t go well, and the comments must have been about her post-baby body because she came home yelling about me and Laura ruining her life, ruining her.”

“Bitch.” The muttered word comes from Mom and has all of us focusing on her. “What? I call it like I see it.”

I hide my smirk and tighten my hold on Bran’s hand.

“That night was bad. I’ll give you the full details if you want but basically, Celeste hurt Laura and when I got her to the hospital, it was already too late. I’m not sure there was ever a chance… The next day, they, the doctors, told me she had no brain activity, the machines they had her connected to were the only things keeping her alive, and I needed to—” Bran chokes and Dad pushes from his seat and moves around behind him.

“I think I’m going to hold you through the rest of this.” Dad doesn’t ask permission, just sinks to his knees beside Bran’s chair and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “When you’re ready.”

“She was six weeks old the day I gave them permission to switch off the machines. And while the ventilator breathed her last breath, her mother was at the house washing down a bottle of sleeping pills with two bottles of vodka. But not before writing a note that would shatter what was left of me.”

It’s just as hard hearing it the second time, and I don’t even try to hold in my tears. I hurt. For him. For Laura. For my brothers and parents.

“The note, which I have locked in a safe deposit box along with Laura’s birth and death certificates, told me I wasn’t Laura’s father. That I’d never slept with Celeste. She lied. And then she named the father. Or fathers. She didn’t know exactly who it was, but she was certain of the options.”

“How many options? And I stand by my bitch comment,” Mom mutters, her voice the one she used whenever someone threatened one of us kids when we were little.

“Two.”

“Do they know?” Mom’s gaze is locked with mine. She’s always had this sixth sense when it comes to her kids, and I can see Bran’s words have tickled it.

“No. They don’t. And I’m not sure they should. It’s what I want your advice on. Whether to tell them when there’s nothing they can do now. No way for me to make up for being there instead of them.”

“It sounds to me like if you hadn’t been there, Laura wouldn’t exist at all.” Dad has moved to the seat beside Bran but his hand remains on Bran’s shoulder.

“Probably not. But I have guilt over that. If I hadn’t pushed Celeste to have the baby, Laura wouldn’t have had such a short life, or been hurt in the most horrible way.”

“What if’s are a slippery slope and nothing good waits at the bottom.” Dad lets go of Bran and leans forward. Pressing his elbows to his knees, he drops his head. “Corbin and Landon.”

“What—” Bran’s hand jerks in mine.

“It has to be them. It makes sense. Why you’d pull away more after Laura died.”

“How did you?—”

“Call it a parent’s sixth sense. And you can bet my lovely wife came to the same conclusion. Probably before I did.”

“They should know. I’ll check the game schedule. See when they next have a break. I’d rather tell them here, away from the public eye but we’ll all go to New York if we have to. I’m sure we can come up with any number of excuses for us all turning up there.” Mom stands and stacks the remaining plates, her movements stilted. “I’ll put the dishes on and get dessert. Nobody needs to help. In fact I’d rather do it on my own, if you don’t mind.”

We stay silent as she clears the table and heads inside. Once she’s out of sight, Dad lets out a harsh breath.

“She’s going to have a quiet cry. It’s what she does. I think it centers her so she can deal with whatever has her emotional.” Dad’s gaze meets mine. “She cried the first time you made the Olympic team. Every time after and that includes when you were appointed coach.”

Tears are still falling down my face and I have to smile. I don’t need to find somewhere quiet to let my emotions out. Not when it comes to this.