Chapter 11
SHEPHERD
Or it’s my mother.
“Morning,” I answer, still staring at the ceiling.
“You’re trending,” Harper says without preamble.
“Well, good morning to you too, Meers. Why doesn’t that sound positive?”
“Happy to report it’s neutral for now,” she tells me. “Which is better than negative.”
I sit up, smoothing my hand down my face. “What did I do now?”
She chuckles on the other end of the line. “Apparently, you smiled.”
I blink. “What?”
“That’s what they’re saying.”
“Who is saying?”
“The internet.”
“I smile all the time.”
“You don’t smile all the time,” she argues. “But you smiled during post-game press when they asked about your off-field distractions. Do you remember that?”
I inhale a deep breath and stand from my bed, scratching at my stomach as I think back to the press room after the Omaha game.
“That wasn’t—”
“I know,” she cuts in. “But you should know, the internet has decided there’s a girl.”
I exhale slowly. “Fuck.”
“So, is there? A girl?” Harper asks as indiscriminately as possible.
“There’s not…” I push my hand through my hair. “There’s not, not a girl.”
“So, it’s not official yet.”
I mean…she kissed me.
But she also said it meant nothing.
It didn’t mean nothing to me.
“What are they saying?”
“Nothing specific. Just that you look…lighter. Happier.”
“That’s not illegal.”
“No,” she agrees. “But I need to know if there’s something I should be prepared for.”
There it is. Agent-speak for: Are you about to implode your brand?
“No implosions planned,” I say evenly.
“Good. For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you. And getting you off the market will help your brand.”
“I’m not doing anything with a girl for my brand, Harper. You know me better than that.”
“I know. And I’m not at all saying you should push her into the spotlight. I just mean fans like to see their players settled down and building families. It makes them feel like you’ve committed to their city. That you’re not going to leave.”
“Portland Rush would have to force me out,” I tell her. “I don’t plan on going anywhere. And I’m not getting this…possible girl…involved. She’s not ready for any of the bullshit that comes with the job.”
I don’t even know if she’s ready for me.
“Glad to hear it. Keep her safe and enjoy your privacy while you still have it. I’ll do all I can to deflect for you.”
“Thanks, Harper.”
“Of course. Everything else going okay? Your brothers behaving in the off season? I haven’t talked to them in a few weeks.”
“Yeah, they’ll be here in a bit, actually. They’re helping me with a project today.”
“Great. We’ll talk soon then. Whatever’s making you smile…or whoever…keep up the good work.”
I’m trying.
“Will do. Tell Harrison and the kids I said hello.” Harper is married to Harrison Meers who used to play hockey for the Anaheim Stars. He finally retired last season and has gotten into coaching.
“You got it. Bye, Shepherd.”
“Bye.”
The call ends and I stare at my phone for a second longer.
I’m trending because I smiled…
Because thinking about Sutton makes me smile.
Another thing that makes me smile?
The memory of her sweet lips on mine.
The smell of cedar and sawdust does something to my brain that nothing else can.
It quiets things. It grounds me. It makes me feel like I have a purpose outside of my sport.
I run my palm over the surface of the half-built dining table in front of me, noting the clean lines and simple joints.
It’s built strong and I’m proud of that.
Killian is leaning against the far wall with a beer he didn’t ask permission to open. Bishop is inspecting my clamp setup like he’s about to critique my life choices, and Sebastian is digging through my scrap wood pile like a raccoon.
Bishop gestures at the table. “Did you measure twice?”
“Three times, Dad. Thanks for asking.”
“Good.” He smirks.
Sebastian straightens, holding up a warped piece of oak. “This one looks like it’s been through something.”
“Put that down,” I say.
He grins but drops it back into the pile.
I pick up the sander and switch it on, letting the vibration steady my thoughts—but the kiss replays in my head anyway. It’s all I think about now.
Her grabbing my shirt.
The hesitation.
The way she pulled back and armored up immediately.
“It meant nothing.”
I almost laugh out loud remembering it.
Killian’s eyes narrow. “There it is.”
“There what is?” I ask, focusing on the table.
“That look, like an itty-bitty baby who’s either smiling for the first time or it just has gas.”
“What?”
He gestures to me. “You know, the look that says you’re either hiding a body or hiding a boner.”
I power off the sander with more force than necessary. “Why are you being dramatic?”
Killian laughs. “No, why are you being dramatic?”
“Who said I’m being dramatic?” I argue. “I’m just standing here sanding a goddamn table.”
“Oooh, I see.” He smirks. “So that’s why you called us all over here today? So we could stand around your woodshop and watch you caress your wood? Because if that’s the case, I call bullshit and we need an intervention.”
“Did something happen?” Bishop cocks his head, his brows furrowed.
“Nothing happened,” I lie.
But it wasn’t nothing.
It was anything but nothing.
“Is this a football thing or…” Killian glances around at our brothers like they’re holding cue cards. Bishop shrugs helplessly, but Sebastian is eyeing me like he’s fucking Sherlock Holmes.
He leans forward and carefully says, “You fucked her, didn’t you?”
Three heads swivel toward me and I hesitate half a second too long.
Killian gasps and claps once. “Oh my God. The girl? You fucked the girl? The bartender?”
“Shut the fuck up, we didn’t fuck.”
Kill’s eyes bulge and he points at me with a shit-eating grin. “But whatever it is, it’s about her.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“I know you’ve got that same face you had when you accidentally sent Mom that text meant for your ex.” He winks.
I gasp. “I was drunk and in college.”
He shrugs “Same look, bro. It’s about the bartender, I know it. What’s her name again?”
“Her name is Sutton,” Sebastian tells them and if looks could kill, my baby brother would be all sorts of dead right now.
He merely shakes his head, giving me a pitying look in response.
“Dude, you may as well get it all out. It’s literally the reason you wanted us here. Something is bothering you.”
“How do you even know that?”
“Tell me it’s not then.” Killian steps closer, his eyes narrowed on me.
“Tell me there’s nothing going on and you don’t really need us so we can get on with our day and not have to watch you building shit out of wood the way you do every time something is on your mind like we haven’t noticed ever since you were in high school because it’s just what you do when you’re emotionally constipated. ”
I blink at him. “That was a fucking long sentence, bro.”
“Thank you. It’s my goal in life to see how many words I can say in a row before I fucking run out of breath.”
“Okay, okay.” I push the sander out of my hands and grasp the table as if it’s going to keep me steady. “She kissed me.”
The words hang in the air between us. All three of my brothers freeze like I’ve just announced I’m joining a cult.
“Okay,” Killian murmurs, his beer halfway to his mouth. “And?”
I run my hand over the sanded edge of the table. “And then she said it meant nothing.”
Sebastian winces.
Bishop crosses his arms. “And what do you think?”
I don’t rush my answer this time. “I think,” I say carefully, “that she kissed me because she wanted to.”
“And?” Sebastian prompts.
“And she said it meant nothing because wanting things scares her.”
Killian hoists himself up onto the countertop he’s been leaning on across from me. “Start from the beginning. Where were you?”
“Outside a thrift store.”
“A thrift store?” Bishop’s eyebrows shoot up.
“She likes thrifting. Finding broken things.” I shrug, not knowing how to explain Sutton’s passion for chipped teacups without making it sound weird. But it’s not weird. It’s beautiful the way she sees value in things others have discarded.
“You were outside a thrift store,” Sebastian prompts.
“Yeah. We were talking, and then she just—grabbed my shirt and kissed me.” I pick up a piece of sandpaper just to have something to do with my hands.
“I mean, yeah, I was a little caught off guard by it. One minute we were thrifting and…I think…flirting…and then the next minute she’s grabbing my shirt and kissing me and then BOOM. Walls back up and her armor was on.”
“So, she’s got issues,” Killian announces.
“Don’t we all?” I snap more defensively than I mean to.
“Hey.” Kill raises his hands. “I’m not judging. God knows we all have our own issues. I’m just stating facts.”
I sigh, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I know she’s guarded. I can see it. Hell, I can practically feel the weight of whatever she’s carrying. I even asked her who hurt her,” I admit, staring down at the partially sanded table. “And I think that spooked her.”
Bishop whistles low. “Bold move.”
“I didn’t ask for details,” I clarify quickly. “Just…acknowledged that someone or something clearly did.”
“And what did she say?” Sebastian asks.
“Nothing. But her eyes…” I trail off, remembering how vulnerable she looked at that moment, like she was fighting against herself. “Fuck, she didn’t have to say anything.”
Killian jumps down from the counter and grabs another beer from the shop fridge. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
Three sets of eyebrows rise simultaneously.
“Guys, I’m not pushing her,” I tell them, my stare meeting each of them one at a time. “She has to set the pace, right? I’m not going to be the guy who forces her to tear down walls she built for a reason.”
Killian tilts his head. “And if her pace is glacial?”
“I’ve played in worse conditions,” I tell them, earning a bit of a laugh.
Bishop studies me a moment longer. “You’re serious about her.”