Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Summer
I spent the rest of the afternoon running errands for Kennedy, that is, doing something that wasn’t self-destructive or bad for my mental well-being.
I would like to say I hadn’t known what I was doing back in that locker room, that I was overcome with emotion and my hormones ruled the day—and while some of that might hold water, the bottom line was that I was not the nicest person.
I was using Hatch to make myself feel better, and that wasn’t fair to him.
Three dog walks and a grocery delivery later, I headed back to Rosie and Adeline’s place.
I couldn’t call it my home, which made me wonder what the hell I was doing here.
Dash was right: the Rebels wouldn’t rehire me.
Scott Kincaid had emailed to tell me that it was best I no longer do any reports for him—I suspected Ryder told him to stop using my free labor—and now that avenue was closed.
I was relying on Ryder to come through with a job at another franchise, which meant if I was serious about working in pro hockey, I would need to leave Chicago.
As grateful as I was to the girls for keeping me afloat, I couldn’t mooch off them for much longer.
As soon as I opened the door, the smell of cooking made my mouth water and the sound of voices made me anxious. We had company.
A tall, dark-haired guy I didn’t recognize exited the bathroom and caught my eye. He had a hot nerd thing going on, though I was probably swayed by the glasses.
“Hello there,” he said.
“Hi, I’m Summer.” Though I’m sure he knew. Everyone did.
“Ah, the new roommate. Nice to meet you. I’m Sean, Addy’s uncle.”
Also Hatch’s, as well as Jason Isner’s brother and Theo’s half-brother. The Kershaw family tree was a many-horned beast. He wasn’t looking at me oddly, so I wondered if maybe he was the only person on planet Earth who hadn’t heard about my dash from Dash.
“Nice to meet you, too. Who else is here?”
“My brother Jason and Lauren—do you know Lauren?”
“I do.” Lauren Yates was the sister of Sadie, my wedding dress designer, sister-in-law to Gunnar Bond, an ex-Rebels player, and Hatch’s agent. A former professional hockey player in the National Women’s League, she had come into the Rebels front office a few times to discuss her clients with Ryder.
Adeline appeared in the corridor to the kitchen. “Hey, roomie! Just in time for dinner.”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.”
“Don’t be silly. This is for you.”
I blinked. “It is?”
“After all that BS in the gossip rags, we figured we’d invite a few people over. Nice, normal, but likely ragingly curious people. So, apologies in advance. Grab yourself a margarita and go mingle until the tacos are up.”
Sean smiled. “I can get you a drink. Go on ahead.”
I went into the living room, holding my breath. Don’t let him be here. Don’t let him be here.
He was not. My traitorous heart went splat with disappointment.
Lars came forward, hugged me, and growled in a very Lars-way, “Carter’s a dick.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s mighty kind of you to say so.” If I’d heard this before I spoke with Dash earlier, I would have made excuses for him. But no more. That didn’t make what happened with Hatch in that locker room right, but I needed to move on from the shame.
Lars thumbed over his shoulder. “You know these guys, right?”
“I do.” I nodded hello at Jason and Lauren and tried not to imagine what they thought of me. Since leaving my hometown ten years ago, I’d been trying to find a place. Fit in. Yet here I was standing out like a sore thumb.
“Can’t believe I considered representing Carter,” Lauren said.
A tall brunette, she had a bright-eyed, mischievous look that belied a tough-as-nails negotiator.
“He told me he would only sign on if I could guarantee him a designer fragrance or a watch deal. Looks like we both dodged a bullet.” She punctuated that with a cheeky wink, which made me chuckle.
“Like the guy needs endorsements,” Jason said. “He’s richer than God.”
“It’s not just about endorsements,” I said. “Goodwill can be just as important. Dash would have liked to be associated with a brand that made him look better. I suggested he volunteer with some charities, but he said it would be easier to write a check.”
“And that’s why he’s playing the victim in the press,” Lauren said.
“He knows that people look at him and think, ‘rich hockey player who has more money than he could ever spend in a lifetime, I wonder what’s wrong with him? Why would any girl not want to be with that?’ So he goes on the offensive.
” Lauren squeezed my arm, though I barely knew her.
“Anyone in the business who knows Carter will see right through it. Unfortunately, the readers of those rags are mostly not in the business.”
Lars frowned, then looked at me. “But you don’t have to care what they think.”
Except insofar as it impeded my ability to get a job in the business I loved. I needed to make peace with him so I could tell the Rebels, “nothing to see here!”
Sean came in with two margaritas, one of which he passed to me. “Here you go. So, I just realized that you’re Dash Carter’s runaway bride. A bona fide celebrity in our midst.”
Jason pointed at his brother and smiled. “Dude, you don’t even know who Dash Carter is.”
“No, but Franky does. She’s on her way over.”
Jason’s easy demeanor changed in an instant. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood, was she?”
“She’s doing some research over at the lighthouse, tracking some special breed of snail.”
Franky was Rosie’s stepsister and a snail specialist, which sounded both creepy and fascinating. I had met her a couple of times at various Rebels gatherings, and I always enjoyed her take on situations. I had no doubt she’d have something to say about mine.
Rosie called out, “Come fix your tacos in the kitchen, people.”
As I was closest to the door, I made it to the kitchen first.
Hatch was here.
Hatch
I had been warned by Rosie before Summer arrived.
“You had better be nice to her, Hatch. She’s had a bad time of it.” She passed me an onion and a knife. Generally a badass, Rosie had always been a wimp when it came to cutting onions.
“Why wouldn’t I be nice to her?”
“Oh, I don’t know, you tell me.” She leveled her dark-eyed gaze at me. “You’ve always acted weird around her.”
“Some people don’t mesh. But I can be nice to poor little Summer.” I needed to come off as disinterested, mostly for Summer’s sake. The last thing she needed was another target on her back.
Rosie tilted her head, assessing me.
“What?”
“You seem different. This last year, you’ve been so down on yourself, not happy with your play. Now you seem … lighter.”
I attended to my onion chopping. “It was good to get away to Saugatuck.”
“Right, the mystery woman. What was that about?”
“I had coffee with someone. Not a big deal.”
When I turned her way, I found her looking at me like I was a puzzle. She was the person I could usually trust with my secrets, my fears, my insecurities. But this was the one thing I couldn’t share with her. She wouldn’t approve, and I didn’t want to disappoint her.
Besides, I was soon on the receiving end of Summer’s disapproval once she realized I was a dinner guest.
I had agreed to give her space, but neither could I ignore dinner invitations or pretend we didn’t now move in the same circles. (To be fair, I knew these people first.) She avoided looking at me, and given the nosiness of my family and friends, I thought it best to do likewise.
The universe heard about that plan and said, “fuck you, guys.”
We found ourselves sitting opposite each other at the table, but any awkwardness was lubricated by a pitcher of margaritas.
Jason told a couple of funny stories about his hockey teammates on the Boston Cougars while Lauren supplemented his tales with a few of her own, with no names because, “confidentiality.” We spent far too much time trying to guess the secret identities, while Addy spent most of her time making eyes at Lars, who goggled right back.
I was initially down on this relationship given the age gap, the employer/nanny thing, and the fact it had the potential to screw with the team’s fortunes, but I could see now how good they were together.
I was envious really, because my little sister had her shit sorted out and I did not.
I wanted to be where she was at. I wanted Summer.
This afternoon in the locker room had been so damn sexy, but more than that, I had felt so close to her. Watching her suck me off and fucking her against that shower tile was the definition of hot. But so was listening to her troubles and confiding in her about my career woes back in Saugatuck.
I wanted those conversations as much as I wanted Summer in my bed.
We were debating whether the night warranted another pitcher when Franky arrived.
Francesca St. James was in her mid-thirties, so closer to Sean and Jason’s ages.
I’d always liked her, mostly because she had a direct, no-nonsense way of looking at things.
With her dark hair piled into a messy bun, librarian glasses (the bridge wrapped in blue duct tape), and a Lakeshore U sweater over rolled up jeans, she gave off a schoolteacher vibe.
Which tracked, because she was a professor of biology at LU.
“Hey, sis!” Rosie jumped up to hug her. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“We were just about to make another pitcher of margaritas,” Addy said. “You in?”
“Not for me. I’ll just stick with water.” She looked around the table. “I thought Sean was here?”
“He’s in the kitchen on a work call,” I said. Sean was the chief tech officer for a bank in Boston, so very, very important. “How was the slug hunt?”
Her eyes lit up. “Very productive, though in fact, I was looking for snails. Viviparinae Gray to be exact. They’re usually found in colder waters of the north but have started to migrate to the lower parts of the Great Lakes and associated waterways.”
“Sounds like a wild time,” Jason said, with an unexpected touch of snark.
Franky was more friendly with Sean, so I assumed she knew Jason to some extent. Yet I wasn’t prepared for her reaction when my uncle spoke to her. Her lip curled in a very distinctive sneer, and she turned away.
Jason shot a quick look of da fuck at me. I wanted to laugh because my uncle usually never failed to charm anyone. He was like my dad in that respect—everyone loved him. But not Franky, which amused me greatly.
Rosie set a plate down before her with a glass of water. As Franky picked up the taco, she arced her assessing gaze over the group.
“Have I missed the discussion about Summer’s sprint from the church?”
A smiling Summer made a point of not looking at me. “We haven’t really discussed it except in surface terms.”
“You made the right call. Dash Carter’s as spineless as a gastropod.” Around her chewing, Franky added, “Slug humor.”
Rosie laughed. “Tell us how you really feel.”
She sipped from her water glass and took that as a literal invitation to unload. “I once overheard him telling someone at a Rebels fundraiser that he couldn’t make a donation because his mother took care of the family’s gift-giving.”
“Damning stuff,” Jason said with an eye roll.
Franky stared at him. “You might think that a meaningless anecdote, but it reflects a negative personality trait that no woman wants in a prospective mate. A man who exhibits that sort of selfishness of spirit is not worth a woman’s time. I only wish I’d told you sooner, Summer.”
Summer caught my eye—yes!—and rolled in her lips, hiding a smile. “Not sure I would have drawn the same conclusion from that, but there were plenty of other red flags I ignored.”
Franky went on. “I imagine he would have provided good genetic material for your children, though. Sometimes that’s all you need, especially when we’re talking about athletes.”
“What does that mean?” Jason asked sharply.
Franky met his gaze over her glasses. They had slipped down her nose while she ate, making her look like a scolding schoolteacher. “Only that athletes aren’t the most evolved people on the planet.”
Jason looked like he was about to explode. I jumped in to defend my jock brethren.
“Your dad’s an athlete, Franky.” Not just any athlete. Bren St. James was a legendary center from a Cup-winning Rebels team.
Franky considered that. “My dad excepted. And Uncle Remy, who is probably the most evolved man I’ve ever met. Uncle Vadim is up there, too, though it took him a while. Russians are tough nuts and Aunt Isobel had to work hard to crack him. The rest of them? Idiots.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jason muttered.
“I think several of us have a different view of athletes, Franky,” Addy said diplomatically.
“Well, you already have proof that Lars can produce a healthy child, so you can check that off the list. And I assume he has other positives that prove he’s worth your time. After all, you overcame several obstacles to get your happy-ever-after.”
Lars stared at her. I wondered if this was his first direct exposure to the professor.
Rosie looked at her sister indulgently. “All those hurdles definitely make it worth the effort, I’d say.”
I considered that. I hoped that one day I would look fondly at the hurdles I overcame to get Summer.
Because I was prepared to knock every single one of them flat to win this woman as my own.