Chapter 5
Chapter Five
WADE
Bree used to tell me everything—sometimes too much. Like word vomit on steroids.
The worst one was in middle school when she got her first period, and she decided to talk to me about it.
My sisters hadn’t reached that milestone yet, so I understood why she wanted to tell her best friend about a major event in her life.
Despite my discomfort when she shared her in-depth study of pads and tampons, I put on my game face and tried not to show how squeamish the whole thing made me feel.
As much as I didn’t want to know the details, part of me felt honored that she wanted to confide something so personal in me. That’s what best friends do for each other, right?
But this time?
She’s hiding something. Piper or Ellie might know more about it…maybe. I could call one of them, or both, if Bree doesn’t open up. Unless she starts talking to me, there’s not much I can do to help her. It’s killing me that I can’t figure this out and fix it for her.
I finish getting dressed, careful to leave the bathroom in decent shape before I return to the main living area.
Bree’s sitting in front of her laptop at the dining room table with one leg folded underneath her.
She’s wearing a cream shorts set dotted with pink roses.
The fabric looks soft, touchable, like her skin.
The glow of the screen reflects off her glasses, which I’ve never seen her wear before.
That and the concentration on her face make her look intellectual and sexy all at once.
Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Those kinds of thoughts will only make this arrangement impossible. Good thing she didn’t notice me studying her with entirely too much interest, or else I’d have to scramble for some lame excuse that borders on a lie.
After a quick mental shake, I pause between the table and the kitchen island. “Hungry?”
She pushes her glasses up on top of her head, which only makes me want to gawk at her again. Who knew I had a thing for the hot librarian look?
“Famished. Did you learn to cook?” She eyes me with a hefty dose of skepticism.
“I’ve always known how to cook.” I point to the glasses. “Those new?”
She looks confused at first, then touches her head. “Oh, those. They’re for doing work on my computer. Helps with eyestrain.”
A streak of mischief hits me. “Reminds me of Nana.”
With a harrumph, she grabs the pepper shaker off the table and tosses it at me.
Of course, I catch it with ease—I’m a goalie. I get paid to snatch small, hurtling objects out of the air. “Nice try.”
She rolls her eyes. “I should have known better.”
I set the shaker down, then open the fridge. “Do you like salmon? I can grill it and add a fresh salad.”
She hums as if she’s thinking. “Or we could order a pizza.”
Not ready to give in to her obsession with cheese and meat on bread, I glance over my shoulder. “Would you prefer chicken with the salad?”
“If it’s on the pizza, sure.” She grins as if to punctuate her point.
I shut the fridge and face her, leaning my arms on the counter. “Still not a salad eater?”
She scrunches her nose. “Nope.”
After a noisy sigh of resignation, I lean over and grab my phone. “Fine. We’ll do pizza tonight, but after that, you either eat what I’m making or fend for yourself. Deal?”
Without looking away from her screen, she gives me a thumbs-up.
Once I place the order for a half pepperoni, half veggie pizza, I sit down at the table near Bree. “So, are you ready to talk about it yet?”
She continues to stare at her screen, making me wonder if she even heard me. Then she closes her laptop, takes off her glasses, and sighs. “Things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.”
That’s it? That’s all she’s going to tell me? Fine. I’ll annoy her with more questions. “Freelancing wasn’t working?”
She shrugs. “Not really. The income wasn’t stable.”
I lean back in the chair, crossing my arms as I stretch my legs out in front of me. “Why’d you leave the gig at the Texas Stars?”
Her eyes dart to me before dropping to her hands as she pulls them into her lap. “It wasn’t a good fit for me anymore.”
“Bree.” She may be two feet from me, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt so far away from her.
After what seems like minutes, she finally meets my gaze. “What?”
Something deep and painful flickers in her eyes. As I lean forward, I grab one of her hands. Her skin is soft and warm, and when I squeeze her fingers, she squeezes back. “What happened?”
She shrugs again, tugging her hand away. “Nothing. I was ready for a change, that’s all.”
I pull my head back in confusion. “Then why did you take the job here? It’s the same kind of work, isn’t it?”
She blinks rapidly as she takes a ragged breath. “I…I—”
The doorbell rings. Her eyes flash to mine like a deer caught in the headlights of my old Jeep on the ranch.
I’m pushing too hard, and I haven’t even asked the big question of why she disappeared from my life for a year.
And as much as I want to know the reason, cornering her will only make things worse.
Kind of reminds me of the mustang that showed up one morning and joined our herd.
She was fine in the group, but alone, she’d buck and snort at anyone who tried to get close.
Except for me. Took a while, but Luna finally let me get near enough to hand-feed her at first. Took most of the summer before my senior year of high school to get her to trust me and allow a saddle.
Last I heard, she just had her first colt, bearing the same moon-shaped patch of white hair on his muzzle right below his eyes.
“That would be our pizza.” I give her a reassuring smile before heading to the door.
Bree already has the plates and napkins arranged on the table when I return with the pizza box.
Her laptop sits off to the side, open to some graphics program she’s using to edit the video she took of Ethan and Elias.
“The E-team” spans across the bottom in a banner with bold letters, with the Sun Kings logo centered, yet overlapping the top of the text.
I gesture toward the image. “Impressive.”
To my relief, she smiles and lights up. “I’m creating a model to show Rebecca tomorrow so she can get a feel for the branding I’m working on. And I have some events in mind that will not only help the team’s image but also work with the charities you guys are involved with.”
When she takes a single slice of pizza, I add another because I know she’s distracted. Even in high school, Bree would forget to eat during finals, so I always made sure I brought extra snacks in my backpack so she wouldn’t pass out or become hangry.
“You’ve done your research.” I slide three slices onto my plate.
She nods. “And I made a list of ideas to optimize your profiles.”
“Should I be worried?”
Bree swats my arm. “Don’t worry. I know how much you hate this kind of stuff. I’ll only ask you to do the most important ones.”
She’s right, but when it comes to her, I’ll do anything that will make her happy. “Whatever you need, Bree. I’m your guy.”
The smile she beams at me as she tilts her head in that way she does to express her thanks deposits a familiar ache in my chest. I’m already hers. Have been for years. I just haven’t figured out how to tell her.
The old feelings are very much there, if not stronger. I knew that the minute I had her in my arms earlier, and I relished the feel of her against me. Sensing her distress stirred a primal desire to protect her, which brought to the surface everything I thought I’d buried. And then some.
How am I going to survive this? I can’t imagine my life without Bree, but somehow I have to be content with her being my best friend and nothing more.
Lost in thought, she chews and swallows.
“Fans love meeting you guys in person, so I want to do something like that romcom ‘Win a Date with Tad Hamilton.’” She gestures in the air at an unseen headline.
“Win a Date with a Hockey Player, or we could use your names like ‘Win a Date with Goaltender Wade Pierce.’”
I choke on the bite of pizza I was about to swallow and reach for one of the water bottles she thoughtfully put on the table to accompany our meal.
She jumps up, slapping my back like Nana would do whenever we choked on something, then resorts to rubbing her hand across my shoulders while her cornflower-blue eyes study me with concern. The warmth of her touch does crazy things to my pulse.
Once she’s certain I’m not going to keel over and die, she returns to her seat. “I’m only asking the single guys if they want to take part, but don’t feel you have to do it, okay? I mean, Rebecca may not even like the idea.”
She’s backpedaling because my reaction made her doubt her idea. And though I’m not keen on the thought of being fixed up on a date in such a public manner, if it helps a charity—and Bree—then I’ll do it.
“You just surprised me, that’s all. Like I said, I’m your guy.”
I’d love more than anything, maybe even more than hockey, to be hers in the most serious and intimate of ways. But Bree Sutton will never be mine. And I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship.
Maybe this dating thing will not only benefit Bree but also help me get over her.
She’s my best friend, and that will have to be enough.