29. Puppy Love
PUPPY LOVE
brETT
God, she has the best laugh.
I like having her here, close enough to touch. Watching her joke around with my family. Hold my niece. Today’s a good day, I decide as we finish up dinner.
“Brett? You want to help me with the dishes?”
I frown at my sister. Well, it was a good day.
“Not really.”
Lainey’s death glare tells me that my feelings are irrelevant.
“Duty calls.” I press a quick kiss to Chelsea’s cheek—I can’t stop touching her—before I get up from the table, grabbing her plate and mine as I head into the kitchen.
Lainey flings a dish towel at me as I join her by the sink.
“Why are you washing these by hand? You’ve got a dishwasher.”
“Because I want to talk to you, genius.”
Exactly what I was worried about, but I accept the wet plate she thrusts in my hands.
“So... Chelsea seems nice.”
I shove the newly dried plate in the cupboard before taking the next one.
“She is.”
“Have you known each other long?”
“Long enough,” I dodge.
“What’s her last name, again?”
My hand stills in the middle of drying, and dread skitters down my spine.
Oh, here we go.
“London, isn’t it? As in Craig London?”
I sigh. One of the downfalls of sharing DNA with a woman who made the Olympic hockey team and married a titan of the sport is that she knows shit, like all the owners and GMs in the league.
Dishes forgotten, Lainey turns to face me. “The boss’ daughter? What are you thinking?”
“He doesn’t know, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He suspects. And he hates my guts. But he doesn’t know.
It doesn’t bother me if the team’s owner doesn’t like me. I can change that by keeping my mouth shut and working hard on the ice. Big hits. Penalty kills. A couple of goals.
The fact that he’s also the GM makes things a little stickier, but again, hard work and a trip to the postseason will smooth over a lot.
It does bother me that Chelsea’s dad doesn’t like me. Because that’s not so easy to fix.
“It’s not serious.”
Lainey’s worried frown deepens, and she abandons the pretense of doing the dishes altogether and crosses her arms. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”
I toss the towel on the counter. “What? We’re hanging out, okay? Neither of us is interested in a relationship right now. And stop looking at me like that. Although props on the concerned frown of disappointment. Your mom face is on point.”
I think I do a pretty decent job of sounding offhand about it all, but Lainey’s always been a master at cutting right through my bullshit.
“And are you okay with that?”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?” I ask a little desperately.
“You brought her here from Montana to meet your family.” Lainey lets the reality of that sink in. “From Montana,” she repeats.
“So?” It’s false bravado, though. I know what she’s getting at. Hell, I’m worried about the same thing myself.
“So, the only other woman you’ve ever brought over here was Janelle, and the only reason you did that was because you two were already married.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Keep your voice down, would you?”
This damn house doesn’t have enough walls.
“I know you want to find someone special, and I know all the divorce bullshit was hard on you. Especially since it lasted longer than your actual marriage.”
A bitter chuckle slips out. My sister doesn’t pull her punches.
“Hey.”
She’s quiet until I meet her stare.
“I don’t want you to get hurt again. You have a tendency to rush in without thinking things through sometimes.” She gestures with her hands like she doesn’t know what to do with me. “You’re like a big, dumb, loveable, overly-enthusiastic puppy.”
“Uh, I’m like a really strong, super suave, manly puppy, is what I think you meant to say.”
She sighs. “Either way, I don’t want you to get flattened by a mail truck, you know?”
I lean a hip against the counter, picking at a loose stitch on the dish towel. “This metaphor just got dark.”
My sister’s eyebrows dip. “It did. But I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”
“Elaine, I appreciate your concern, I do, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not that stupid twenty-year-old kid anymore. And Chelsea isn’t Janelle. I know what I’m doing. I won’t get in too deep.”
Liar. My heart kicks in my chest.
“Just be careful, okay? I can tell you like this girl. But you know as well as I do that if the Wolfpack hadn’t picked you up...”
Yeah. I do.
“And you’re playing so well right now. I don’t want anything personal to jeopardize your career. Not when there are so many hockey related things that could. Look what happened to Cooper.”
My brother-in-law suffered a couple of concussions and ended up retiring two years ago, because he had to, not because he wanted to.
And I don’t miss the way my sister’s gaze drops to the scar on her right wrist, a remnant of three hours’ worth of surgery on the break that had ended her own hockey dreams. It’s the reality of professional sports.
Your career can end in an instant, without so much as a warning shot.
Craig London’s threat rings in my ears.
I hate to think what your prospects of getting picked up next season would be if the Wolfpack decided not to renew your contract.
“So are we finishing these dishes, or what?” I ask, desperate to escape this conversation. And even more desperate to escape what’s not being said.
Lainey surveys the stack of plates in the sink. “No. They can wait. That’s why I have a dishwasher.”
I laugh, despite the tension in the kitchen.
With a sigh, my sister pulls me close, and I wrap my arms around her.
“Thanks for looking out for me.”
“Always,” she vows, her words muffled by my shoulder. “I’m glad you came to meet Chloe. Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”
I nod against her hair. “She’s incredible. You done good, Sis.”