Chapter Four
Dylan
I couldn’t believe I was back in this house. On New Year’s Eve.
Last time I was here, I’d been too busy surviving the occasion to notice much of anything. The Alexander home was big and warm. The kind of place that made it clear money wasn’t a problem.
Fuck, their holiday decorations alone probably cost more than my monthly mortgage.
Every surface was dressed for the season, every light was on, and the furniture was clearly not the build-it-yourself kind.
The whole place radiated a quiet, effortless wealth that made my two-bedroom ranch feel like a starter kit.
I planted myself near the front window with a drink, watching the room fill up and wondering, not for the first time, what the hell I was doing here.
“She’s not coming.”
I turned to find Caleb with a half-eaten plate of food in hand, leaning against the wall behind me, casual as hell. He was sixteen, Eric’s youngest brother, and had absolutely no business knowing my business.
I stared at him. “Who?”
“Chantel.” His expression made it clear he knew damn well I’d already figured that out. “In case you were wondering.”
“Why would I be wondering?”
He only smiled in that knowing way of his and then sauntered off toward the food table without another word.
The kid was either a mutant mind reader or just way more in the know than any teenager had a right to be.
But how the hell had he figured it out?
I hadn’t told anyone about my encounter with Chantel. Not even the guys at work. And I’d been wearing a scowl since before I’d walked through the door, so he sure as hell hadn’t read it on my face.
Yet he’d dropped her name like it was a gift, which was both creepy and, given she wasn’t coming, disappointing as fuck.
Seeing her again was half the reason I’d come. To hear her voice. To find a quiet corner and pick up where we’d left off. Or at least get a kiss at midnight.
Fuck.
It was the last day of the year, I was back in a place I’d promised myself to avoid, and my one shot at having a good time wouldn’t be here.
At least there was booze. Not that I’d be getting drunk—no way was I handing this family any ammunition—but having a drink in hand was a decent crutch.
And poor loser John and his annoying stalker of a wife weren’t here. Thank fuck.
Overall, being here wasn’t as bad as last time.
I’d spent the last six months with my head down, working and hanging out with Hunter every chance I got.
That alone made the rest of it easier to swallow.
And Jamie and Eric hadn’t rushed to the altar the way I’d expected.
Their wedding was still eight months away.
Two hundred and twenty-eight days, to be exact.
That gave me time. To either stop it or come to terms with it. I had no fucking idea which.
I was still turning it over in my head when I spotted Hunter working his way through the crowd. He moved toward me, elbows out, cutting a path through the adults with the focused determination of a kid on a mission.
“Dad, can I stay up until midnight and watch the ball drop?” His request reached me before he did, and I was willing to bet I wasn’t the first person he’d asked.
“Do you really think you’ll make it?” I raised an eyebrow. “I saw you covering your mouth earlier. It’s only nine o’clock and you’re already yawning.”
“I wasn’t yawning. I was trying not to spit out the food in my mouth. Caleb was making me laugh.”
“Nice excuse.” I smiled despite myself. “What did your mom say about staying up?” No way was I getting outmaneuvered by my eleven-year-old. Not again.
His shoulders dropped. “I haven’t asked her yet. She said no last year, but it’s not like I’ll be able to sleep anyway. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Honestly, I didn’t see what the big deal was, either. If it were up to me, the kid could stay up as late as he wanted on nights like this. It was a rite of passage. But it wasn’t up to me.
“Your mom’s the boss here. Go ask her first. And stop trying to guilt me into stuff. You know it won’t work.”
“Got me Mojo, didn’t it?” His eyes, so much like my own, filled with mischief.
“No, wise guy. You got the dog because your mom and I both agreed. Now quit causing trouble and go do the right thing.”
“Yeah, okay.” He sighed dramatically and trudged off toward Jamie.
I watched him launch into his negotiation from across the room—animated, throwing everything he had at her. Jamie’s exasperated sigh was visible from where I stood, but so was the smile she was trying to hide.
Warmth moved through my chest, settling deep.
I’d missed so much of him. Her entire pregnancy, his birth, his first everything. I’d told myself at seventeen that I wasn’t ready to be someone’s dad, that they were better off without me. By the time I’d understood what I’d lost, Jamie was gone and the door was closed.
Eric appeared from somewhere behind her, sliding into the conversation. His hand moved to her shoulder, and he smiled down at Hunter like my kid was his own.
The warmth in my chest twisted into something ugly. Not quite anger. Not quite grief. Something primal that I didn’t have a name for and sure as fuck wasn’t proud of.
“Kids are fun, aren’t they?” a deep voice interrupted my thoughts.
The man who’d wandered up beside me was big. Really big. Tall and built, with reddish-brown hair and a thick copper beard that made him look like a fucking lumberjack.
“Depends on who’s asking.” The words were defensive sounding, even to me. But fuck, I already had to share my son with Eric. I wasn’t in the mood to share this moment with a stranger too.
His laugh was bold and boisterous, the kind that drew people’s attention whether they wanted to give it or not. Mine included.
“Don’t worry. It wasn’t a test,” he said with a smirk. “I like kids but I’m always glad when they go home with their parents.”
“You’re one up on me, then. I don’t like most people’s kids.
Love mine like crazy, but he rarely comes home with me.
He’s usually with those two.” I nodded toward Jamie and Eric, who now had their arms wrapped around each other.
Hunter had run off, probably in search of Caleb and whatever trouble they could get into.
“So you’re just the baby daddy, eh? That’s gotta suck.”
Was this guy for real? “No, doesn’t suck at all, but thanks for bringing it up.”
He laughed again, and I actually fucking smiled.
“I’m Sean.” He stuck out his hand, and I took it.
“Dylan.”
“How’d you get suckered into this shindig? Especially if that’s what you’ve got to deal with?” He looked back toward Jamie and Eric, who were now locked at the lips.
His distaste for their display was clear, though I doubted it ran as deep as mine. And I was pretty sure he wasn’t considering knocking Eric’s teeth in the way I was—an urge that appeared like clockwork every time he touched her.
“No idea. Sylvie keeps inviting me and I keep trying to say no. Guilt, I guess.” I shrugged. “You?”
“Same. She’s a hard woman to say no to.” He smiled. “Plus, I kind of owe her husband my career.”
“Really?”
Glenn Alexander was brilliant and intuitive, probably where Caleb got it from, but he was a psychologist, and not the kind of man who took credit for other people’s success. I couldn’t imagine many people willing to admit he’d helped them, either.
“You’re a shrink?” I couldn’t picture this mountain man handling someone else’s mental health.
His laughter filled the room. “Hell no. I’m not smart enough or patient enough for something like that.”
“Yeah, me neither. What do you do?”
He scratched the back of his neck, something uncomfortable crossing his features. “I play hockey.”
Shit. I knew he looked familiar.
This was Sean Brennan. Professional hockey playing Sean Brennan. A second-line defensemen who’d been traded more times than Jamie and Eric’s spit.
He caught my recognition and nodded. “What about you? You look like an armed forces guy.”
“Police force, actually.”
“Yeah, that tracks. It’s a badass job.” He said it with the kind of genuine respect that caught me off guard.
The people I’d been trying to impress with it had never once reacted this way.
“So how is it you owe Glenn your career?”
“He volunteered with some outreach program at my high school. I was a rough little fucker—bad attitude, bad temper, and had a habit of sleeping with anyone willing. I was going nowhere fast, until he helped set me straight.” His smile turned predatory as he held my gaze. “Well, not perfectly straight.”
Oh, shit. I froze.
“No, and yes,” he said, reading my expression with obvious amusement.
“No and yes to what?”
“No, I’m not secretly gay. I’m bi, and everyone knows it. But yes.” His voice stroked the word like it was a trophy. “Yes, I’m absolutely hitting on you.”
Every warning bell I had fired at once. I crossed my arms. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” He leaned in, his voice a seductive murmur. “Or you could show me where the bathroom is in this very large and confusing house. Take a walk on the wild side with me.” His shoulder brushed mine. “Something tells me it wouldn’t be your first time.”
How the hell did he know that?
In another place, another time, maybe. But not tonight, and especially not here, with Jamie twenty feet away and half this room just waiting for me to do something wrong.
“That woman over there.” I motioned toward Jamie. “Is the love of my life. We’re in her soon-to-be in-laws’ living room, my son is here, and I’m a respected officer of this community. So, no.”
“No, eh?” His eyebrow rose.
“No.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
No, normally I wouldn’t. It was the exact kind of bold move I’d made a hundred times. Throw out enough lures and eventually one comes back with more than just the bait.
Sean was more than just bold. He was enigmatic. And his lure was mighty fucking attractive.
Still, I couldn’t take the risk. “Guess not. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try again.”
“Deal.” He stroked his beard, unbothered. “So. You a hockey fan?”
“Yeah. The sport’s in my blood.” The tension in my shoulders finally started to ease.
“Cool. Did you catch my last game?”
“Honestly? I couldn’t tell you which one that was.”
“That’s okay, it was a trick question.” His fingers ran over his beard again, and I caught myself watching the gesture a moment longer than I should have. “I haven’t played once this season. Was hoping maybe you had some insight as to why.”
“Your coach hasn’t told you?”
“He gave me a line about teamwork and penalty stats, but I have a feeling there’s something more he’s not saying. Know what I mean?”
That had to be rough. I’d seen him play enough to know he loved it. He played with passion—a lot of it. Maybe a bit too much, since he had a reputation as a bruiser.
But that’s what happened when you loved something, wasn’t it? You did stupid things for it.
“It’s only two months into the season,” I offered.
“Don’t sugarcoat it.” He shook his head slowly. “This is probably my last year. Nobody’s going to want me unless it’s a package trade. I’ve made my peace with it.”
He said it like he meant it, but I wasn’t convinced.
“You’re calm for someone who thinks they’re losing their job. How do you manage it?”
“Well, how are you managing?” A bite of annoyance sharpened his tone. “You’re standing across the room from the love of your life while she’s kissing the love of hers. And it isn’t you.”
My eyes drifted back to Jamie and Eric, still tangled up in each other across the room. Heat crawled up the back of my neck, and my jaw went tight.
Fuck, it wasn’t right that guys like Sean, guys like me, could pour our hearts and souls into loving something only to have it stolen away. To have all our passion, our effort, our blind devotion, tossed aside like it meant nothing.
“Do you see my son anywhere?”
“Not sure.” His head turned as he scanned the room. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I set my drink down. “Just need to talk to him about the ball drop.”
No fucking way was Hunter going to miss midnight. Not on my watch.