9
The Truth
Mitch
Pulling up to Spencer’s new home fills me with a certain sense of pride.
I loved his former beach-side house, or rather his mother, Marilyn Perry’s mansion, but this house means more because it’s all Spencer’s.
And Bethany’s, of course. They’ve just bought it together.
But considering that a year ago, before he’d met her, Spencer was one step away from being an eternal bachelor, this change in him is new and very surprising.
After parking in the driveway, I round the pale gray house and head toward the back, spotting Spencer lounging in a chair on the dock. Save for his dog, Bruno, who comes running up to me, Spencer’s by himself.
“What, no Missus today?” I tease, giving Bruno a scratch behind the ears.
“Bee had to help her parents with a catering gig.” We shake hands, then do our quick bro-hug. “Want some iced tea?”
“Nah, I’m good, thanks,” I answer, waving off the offer, but actually, I’d kill for a fourth cup of coffee.
All my pent-up energy from last night is lingering in my body. I tried to jerk-off, to get it out of my system, but thoughts of Maxine in those damn jeans kept popping into my head and killing the mood. Or maybe I just didn’t feel right imagining her that way.
So now, I’m carrying this extra stress on my back, I’m exhausted, not to mention I’ve got a massive case of blue balls.
“You sure?” Spencer asks. “Looks like you had a rough night.”
I guess the dark circles under my eyes give me away. “Must have drunk too much,” I reply with a shrug.
He smirks, then pours some iced tea into a glass. “Or maybe it’s because of a certain redhead.”
I never explicitly told him about the crush I used to have, but he’d sort of figured it out. He’s always been quite perceptive about these things. He used to tease me about it, but he never told anyone, either.
I groan, shaking my head, and sit down in the chair opposite him. “Don’t start.”
“That bad, eh?”
“I said don’t start,” I reply more sharply.
With a light chuckle, he raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. So, how long are you in town for?”
“Not sure. I figured I’d help with the brewery, but you two seem to have it under control.” I stare out to sea, then tilt my head back, enjoying the warm sunlight on my face. “I’ll stick around a little longer for Dad.”
Turns out the new medication only gave my dad a brief reprieve from his illness and it returned with a vengeance this morning.
His skin was gray, actually gray, as if life was slowly draining from his body.
Mom suggested he sit in the sun, get some vitamin D, but my dad gave her the same look I did—the look I give Maxine.
We understand what’s happening. What they’re denying.
“The vibe in that house is sucking the life from me,” I admit, then cringe, realizing my shitty choice of words. “You know what I mean.”
Without judgment, Spencer nods, his eyes kind and understanding. “You’re welcome to crash here if you want. We’ve got the extra space.”
“What, and hear you two fucking all day long? No thanks.” I could probably picture myself staying in the house by the sea, but I wouldn’t dare intrude on him and Bethany.
He laughs, sipping his drink. “Not all day. We do work sometimes,” he says with a wink.
“Noted.” I allow myself to laugh, and it feels sort of good. “How’s your mom doing?”
“Still rich and famous,” he answers dryly, telling me they’re probably in the middle of one of their frequent spats.
They love each other to death, but Spencer shares his mother’s arrogance, which often keeps them from getting along.
“And she reminds me daily that she’s responsible for Bee being in my life. So, as she says, I owe her.”
He sinks into his lounge chair with a sigh, then offers me a tight smile. Marilyn isn’t wrong, though. Turns out the day she hired Bethany to be his assistant was the best day of Spencer’s life. Despite his flippant attitude, he knows how lucky he is to have such a woman in his life.
“And you’re really not going back to California?”
His cheeks lift into a soft smile, something I’ve rarely ever seen on him. “I’m not. I’m staying here. I’ll go out there to check in on things, but mostly, I can work remotely. Plus, Bee loves her job at the paper, and I hate being away from her for too long. So, yeah, it’s better for us.”
Born a celebrity to his movie star mother and media mogul father, Spencer’s bachelor lifestyle meant he hated his summers in Oakwhite Bay. He would always dream of one day escaping it, which is why seeing him put down roots here is so shocking.
He notices my slack jaw and laughs. “What?”
“It’s great seeing you so in love, that’s all.” I catch the way his mouth quirks and the faint pink blush coloring his cheeks.
With an almost imperceptible nod, his eyes flicker toward the sea. “Yeah, it’s the best fucking feeling.”
A tiny pang flares in my heart. I wonder when I’ll be lucky enough to have something like that. “I’m happy for you, man. You deserve it.”
Spencer’s face lights up with his wide grin. “You do too, bro.”
I roll my eyes, sitting back. “I said don’t start.”
Hiding his laugh behind his drink, he finishes the tea and places the empty glass on the table. He props his feet up, crossing his arms behind his head, but I can tell he’s watching me with that impenetrable Larson-Perry stare.
“I’m really sorry about your dad, Mitch,” he offers a few minutes later. “Do you think there’s any chance…?” His words fade, the question hanging in the air.
I tuck my lips in. “It’s terminal. He refused all treatment.”
“That’s a shame. I know you two aren’t close and with all that shit…” Again, he lets his words drift, his meaning clear. “If there’s anything you or your parents need, I’m here.”
“I never doubted it, Spence. I appreciate it.”
“So, I guess that means you’ll stay until…”
“Yeah, probably.” I scratch my beard and nod. “Hell, maybe longer.”
He whips his head my way. “What about the team?”
“They’ve dropped me.”
Alert, he sits up. “What?”
“Phil is shopping me around, but it’s not looking good.”
“Shit, man. I’m sorry. What happened?” The pity in his eyes makes me nauseous.
“Don’t be.” I glance around, making sure we’re alone. All that surrounds us is sand, grassy dunes and the Atlantic Ocean. “Honestly? I’m done. I keep thinking that this might not be such a bad thing. Maybe it’s time I hung up the skates and retired early.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he replies, swatting a hand through the air. “You’re not retiring. Hockey is the air you breathe.”
Without answering, I stare at him, my lips pressed in a tight line. He’s exactly right. Hockey is my life. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Only since returning to Oakwhite, I’ve realized that I may have been living in a bubble of self-denial all this time.
Spencer reads my silent gaze, understanding, and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’d quit the game.”
“I got an offer to play for Germany, but I’m not taking a huge pay cut to play for some shitty league off in another country.
I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I’m at.
” I drop my head and rub my eyes. “It’s like I’ve given them everything and now they’re putting me out to pasture.
I’m better than that. Don’t I deserve more than that? ”
Agreeing, he nods.
As if needing a reminder of my weakness, my hip twinges and I shift in the seat, glancing down at it. “I guess I’m not as indestructible as I thought I was.”
“Fuck you. You’re Mitchell-fucking-Adams,” he says, emphasizing the name as if it means I’m Superman.
“I’m telling you, Spence. My hip is fucked, not to mention I’ve pissed off all the wrong people.”
“But you’ve protected and stood up for a lot of them, too.”
I run a hand down my beard. “Well, it is what it is.”
“That’s it? You’re just going to bow out?” he asks, staring at me as if he hasn’t known me for twenty years. I’m not only letting myself down, but him, too.
“Not sure I have many options. I’m not healing the way I thought I would. And honestly, I’m getting too old for this shit.”
“Too old? Take it easy, you’re thirty-one,” he bites back.
I’ve hit a nerve. We’re the same age, and he’s dating a woman ten years younger than him. Age is a sensitive topic for Spencer.
“You should see the kids these days. They’re unreal. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before. And it doesn’t help that I’m not at my best, either.”
“But you love the game.”
“And always will. But it’s not driving me as hard as it used to.” I’ve never admitted this to anyone before, not even Phil, but to speak the words aloud is cathartic, and my shoulders lighten without the burden of these secrets on my back.
“Shit, man. I can’t even imagine you not on the ice. It’s a part of you.”
There’s sincere sympathy in Spencer’s ocean-blue eyes. He knows hockey has been my life. Most days, it was my sole reason for existing. Leaving the game would definitely hurt. The thought alone fills my heart with an indescribable ache.
“Why don’t you consult or coach, something like that? You’d be great at it. God knows you have the mouth for it,” he jokes.
I play along and smile. “Actually, Phil says my face draws the female demographic, so I’m sure I’d do well as a commentator.”
Spencer reaches over, pinches my chin, and gives it a shake. “With this ugly mug? Never.”
I swat his hand away and laugh. “Screw you. We both know I’m the hot one,” I shoot back, but everyone knows that’s bullshit.
He’s the charismatic one, Hunter’s the good-looking one, and I’m the bad boy.
A title they gave me a long time ago, but I can’t say it ever suited me, or that it ever felt right.
“True. You’re so fucking hot,” Spencer replies with a good-hearted chuckle.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but this might actually be good.”
“How do you figure?”
“My attention needs to be here, on Dad and the brewery.”