13. Chord
thirteen
Chord
I’ve got a good sweat going and my heart rate’s up as I leap onto the front porch of the old bungalow. “I win.”
Finn’s feet land a half-second behind mine, and he shoves me to the side. “Fuck off. You had a head start.”
I crack the tiniest smile and bend down to give Finn’s old golden Labrador a rub behind the ears. Her name’s Dakota, she’s got to be at least ten years old, and Finn picked her up at a rescue shelter on his three-month trip across the country.
I knew the minute I saw her why he brought her home. The resemblance between this dog and the Labrador we had as kids is uncanny, and Finn had always been old Bear’s favorite.
Dakota turns her head to lick my fingers, and I give her one last scratch before setting a hand on the balustrade and catching my foot in one hand. The stretch through my quad feels good, but beating my younger brother on these morning runs feels even better.
“You’re a sore loser.”
He snorts and throws an incredulous look my way. I grin for real this time. We both know I’m the one who hates to lose, which is why I never let it happen.
“Do you think Dylan would want to join us tomorrow?” I ask. “The only thing better than kicking your ass every morning would be showing you both how it’s done.”
“Nah.” Finn sets his toes against the low line of timber and stretches out his calf. “Running isn’t really his thing.”
“And what is?”
Finn shrugs. “Izzy and the restaurant.”
I shift into a low lunge, grunting quietly at the pull in my hip flexors, and Finn bites back a shit-eating grin.
“Say it, asshole. I dare you.”
“I don’t need to, old man. Your body is saying it for me.”
I shake my head and switch legs. I know how old I am. I know I can’t play hockey forever. But Finn’s teasing hits a nerve that wasn’t there a year ago.
When I thought I’d see out my career with Calgary, I looked toward retirement with a kind of proud resignation. I was okay with walking away because I was at the top of my game. At the top of the game. I was prepared to start something new—maybe here at Silver Leaf, possibly with a woman I loved, in a house that I built for a family. But everything is different now. Now I’ve got too much to prove.
“How are things going with Charles?” Finn asks.
Charles is Finn’s nickname for Charlie.
Born a year apart to the day, they were inseparable growing up. Fair-haired, brown-eyed, barrel-chested, and big-hearted Finn, and the dark-haired, blue-eyed, dirt-on-her knees big sister who always had his back. One never went anywhere without the other right up until the day he enlisted. Dylan and Daisy, born two and four years after Finn respectively, had their own bond as well. Of the five of us, I’ve always been the odd one out. The oldest, sure, but that was never the problem. Hockey was the problem. It always came first.
“Things are…” I reach an arm over my head and push on the elbow to stretch out my tricep. “Fine.”
Finn lifts a disbelieving eyebrow. “Talk to her, bro. Sort it out. We’re all too old for this shit.”
I change arms and lean into the burn shooting through the muscle. “I would if I knew where to start.”
He shakes his head and walks through the unlocked screen door. I follow, holding the door open for Dakota to amble through after us, then move fast to catch the bottle of water that smacks me square in the chest.
“She’s our sister,” he says. “Start anywhere you like, keep going until she bites, and don’t let her push you around.”
“I wish it were that easy.” I huff out a dry chuckle, but I think about it as I take a long swallow of water. “Has she… said anything about me?”
The look he gives me is wry. “She doesn’t have to. You know the problem. She knows the problem. We all know the problem, and we want you two to fix it.”
He punches my arm as he passes me on his way to the sofa, then launches himself over the back of it, points the remote at the television, and starts flicking through his streaming service. Dakota shadows him, and when she heaves herself up next to him, he shifts to make room for her alongside his thigh.
Finn’s right. I know the problem. I just don’t know how to solve it.
Charlie’s stuck on the idea that I haven’t done enough to earn my place here. I spent my childhood focused on becoming the next NHL prodigy while she was being groomed to take over the family business. It’s a job that would have gone to me had it not been for hockey, and although I know she loves Silver Leaf and probably wouldn’t have it any other way, it doesn’t change the fact that I got to chase my dreams while she was here doing the grunt work and carrying the burden of Mom and Dad’s legacy.
It won’t be easy, but I’m going to prove that Silver Leaf means as much to me as it does to her. And if she won’t accept a dime of my money, I’ll just put my blood, sweat, and tears into this place the same way she has. Why else would I be out there every damn day fixing fences with my bare hands?
“Thanks for the run, bro.” I clap Finn on the shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”
He doesn’t look up. “You bet.”
I walk out while he’s still channel surfing.
I start the run back to my house, easing a little on the pace as I round the last bend, then stopping altogether as I spot movement on the back porch.
It’s her. A short, fast flicker of frustration has me narrowing my eyes at her distant silhouette.
I’m not irritated with her. I’m pissed at myself. Hiring Violet as my assistant was supposed to be the easy option. A wallflower who’d never hit on me. Someone I wouldn’t look at twice. But ever since she got here, I can’t stop looking, and I’m losing the will to keep my distance.
What was that I said about my focus, discipline, strength, self-control? I snort quietly to myself. My most prized values might as well line the floor at this woman’s feet because instead of doing the smart thing and going around the front, I run straight to her.
I take the porch steps two at a time and stand back while she paces at the other end of the white wooden deck, talking on the phone with her head bent and voice quiet.
Whatever it is looks serious, and maybe now would be a good time to disappear, but I edge closer, seduced by the way her tee lifts on the side with her raised arm, exposing the narrowest strip of smooth pale skin.
Violet’s absorbed enough in her conversation that she doesn’t feel my eyes on her, doesn’t notice me even when I lean into another round of stretches. And I’m so fixated on her that I don’t notice the other phone on the long outdoor table until it rings with an incoming call and skitters across the top. Violet shoots it a harried look over her shoulder, but when she sees me, her brows shoot up, and she starts blinking.
“Jen?” she says into the phone. “Thanks for the chat, but I have to go. I’ll text you tonight after I talk to him.”
Him? Who’s him ? A boyfriend? Violet glances at me once and away again, her throat bobbing in a nervous swallow, and I smooth the irritation from my face.
The phone on the table, which had just fallen silent, screams again. I’m frustrated by how badly I want to talk to her right now, and I don’t care that it’s none of my business, so I pick it up to see who’s bugging Violet—and, by extension, bugging me. It’s not a boyfriend, but the name flashing irritates me all the same. Courtney Reynolds .
“I’m sorry.” Violet accepts the phone from my outstretched hand while tucking the other into the back of her shorts. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your morning…”
Her face falls as she sees the name on the screen, and when the call cuts off, I move closer to make out the notification that says she’s got two missed calls and two unread texts. All from Courtney.
“Shoot,” Violet whispers. “She’s going to be so mad.”
“Courtney?”
I cross my arms over my chest and keep my tone cool. I’m only too capable and too happy to take care of any issues she has with that woman.
“Yes.” Violet licks her lips, tongue sweeping out in a way that makes my dick pay attention, but she waves away her worry like it’s nothing. “I’ll call her back now. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“And the other thing?”
I’m a demanding bastard, but I’ve always known that about myself.
“What other thing?”
I nod at her hip to indicate the phone in her back pocket. “The call you were on when I got here. Something serious?”
“Oh.” Her hand touches the phone in her jeans, giving me a valid excuse to rake my eyes up her long legs to the curve of her hip. “That was a personal call.”
“With your boyfriend?”
A sweet, self-deprecating chuckle dances across her lips, and the sound makes me stand a little straighter.
“Ah, no. I don’t have one of those.”
“Girlfriend?”
Violet gives me an amused frown, and I cock an eyebrow in return. So fucking cute.
“No. I don’t have one of those either.”
“So, the serious conversation with the not-your-boyfriend and not-your-girlfriend was with your…”
“Neighbor.” Her expression is bemused, but in a good way, if the way she’s trying not to smile is anything to go by.
“About your…”
She’s still trying to work me out, but the crease that pops up between her brows doesn’t sit well with me. “My dad. He’s—”
The phone in her hand rings again, and she looks at it with alarm. “I’m sorry. I really have to take this.”
“Go ahead.”
I mean for her to answer it here where I can keep an eye on her, but Violet interprets my permission as a dismissal and hurries into the house.
My stomach clenches as she walks away, and I’m so damn disappointed to watch her go. It’s a small thing in a series of small moments that shouldn’t feel so significant, but the disappointment is what tips me over the edge.
I love the sound of her laugh. I could waste an entire day waiting for her smile. I crave our accidental moments together, and I like how I feel when she’s near—warmer, somehow. Less guarded. More myself.
The struggle to stay away has become more of a distraction than pursuing her, so why am I trying to fight it? I want this woman, and if chasing her makes me weak? If it flaunts the rules I imposed on myself this year? Then fuck it. I’ll deal with the fallout later.
Rules were made to be broken, and I’ll break them all to make this girl mine.