Chapter 20
Twenty
Colt
Finishing my conversation with the donor, I shake his hand then slip away into the crowd.
Usually, the fundraising events take place at home.
But this one supports the hospital where Blake has spent so much of his time.
When they asked me to help get the new children’s wing funded, I jumped at the chance to give back.
Luckily, some of the guys were happy to help too.
Tonight, Lake, Riggs, Knox, Bear, Leo, and Storm are here, along with Damon and Joey, all hobnobbing with donors, signing jerseys and posters (and in Lake’s case, bottles of vodka as well). They’ve all also offered up items for the silent auction.
Good guys.
The best.
It might take another couple of events, but we’re getting close to the Blake Madden Children’s wing.
Something I wanted to show my brother tonight.
But he isn’t here yet, and the fundraiser is well underway.
Frowning, I search the room one more time and then pull out my phone.
It’s rude, but I’m worried.
Did something happen on their drive up?
Blake had sounded better when I spoke to him yesterday before the game, confirming the details, had promised to be here with my parents, who were driving him up.
But he’s not.
And the message on my phone fucking burns.
Blake: Mom says my cough is worse and won’t drive me up. I’m trying to find another ride but on this short of notice…fuck, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have trusted her to follow through.
“You good?” I look up to see Storm has come over.
“Yeah,” I clip. “I’m great.” I shove my cell back in my pocket, stifle a sigh.
“You don’t look great.”
Because as much as this hurts, it isn’t a surprise.
It’s just another line in a long list of broken promises and crippling disappointments.
“Colt?” he presses.
“All good. Just family shit,” I mutter.
“What kind of family shit?”
“They can’t make it.”
His face clouds. “Seriously?”
I grit my teeth together, exhale sharply. “Don’t worry about it. My brother…he really wanted to be here but his ride didn’t work out.”
“Because your parents won’t drive him?”
The guys know enough to get that Blake can’t live alone without help, let alone drive himself.
I look away, shrug. “Anyway, we’re here. We’re doing a good thing. Thanks for supporting it.”
“Right,” he says.
But he doesn’t move on, doesn’t take the opportunity to escape like I expect, like he’s been doing more and more often of late.
Pulling back from us.
Isolating himself.
Instead, he shows me a glimpse of the Storm of old—kind, insightful, and persistent.
“You know I know all about family shit,” he says quietly. “But that doesn’t mean you’re immune to it, even as an adult.”
Christ, why does he have to return to his old self right now?
Why can’t he just keep being the sulky bastard who’s distancing himself from the rest of us?
Which, yes, I know is an asshole thing to think…
But I don’t want to contemplate my family right now.
Not about the disappointment, not about trying to get my parents, my mom to see me doing something great, something I want to do, am happy to do…but that I also know I’m doing for her. Partly, anyway.
Also for Blake, of course.
But also maybe so she’ll acknowledge—
Stop.
“I know you do.” I shove my thoughts down, focus on something that isn’t about me.
My parents are…less than what I wanted, what I hoped for.
But Storm’s dad? He’s a bastard.
His childhood was seriously fucked up.
Seriously.
“Which is why we both know I shouldn’t be disappointed by the status quo.”
“Yeah.” Storm sighs and leans back against the wall. “But logic doesn’t work when this shit hurts.”
“Stuff still bad with your dad?” I ask, not wanting to poke the bear, but also—seriously—wanting to shift the conversation away from my problems.
“Yup,” he mutters. “Always the same shit in Cedar Hollow. Just a different day, different month, different fucking year.”
We fall silent and I don’t miss that his eyes slide across the room, slide over to Joey and Damon, don’t miss the way that pain seems to settle over his bones, making him look a decade older.
Fuck.
Then there’s that.
Shitty childhood.
Fucked-up family.
The woman he wants choosing someone else.
“Storm—”
He pushes away from the wall. “I’m going to make another round of the room, see if we can’t get some more donations.”
“Hey, if you need to go, it’s all good. You’ve done your time and—”
A sigh. “I promised to be here.” His gaze slides over my shoulder and his face softens for the first time in forever. “And I think your day is about to get a hell of a lot better.”
“What—?”
He claps me on the arm then walks away, heading for the corner opposite of Coach and Damon and—
“Hey, handsome.”
Her soft, floral scent hits me first then her voice processes and I spin around, mouth dropping open, shock rippling through me. “Kylie? Baby, what the hell are you doing here?”
She’s dressed in a slinky blue dress, the ribbons of her silver sandals crisscrossing their way up her shins.
“Nice shoes, Teach.”
Her cheeks go pink, eyes sliding away then back to mine. “Maybe I can convince you to help me take them off later?”
My dick twitches and I want to say no convincing will be necessary, that we can go and I’ll take them off right now, but more importantly, I need to find out…
“How are you here?”
Something drifts across her face, mischief and worry and—
“Blake and I conspired.”
My heart rolls over in my chest. “How—”
“The flight to Utah was an hour and a half. When it looked like he wasn’t going to make it, Blake called me, I hopped on a plane, and ipso facto…I’m here. So”—she rubs her hands together—“who are we fleecing out of money?”
I grin despite myself. “It’s called fundraising, Teach.”
A slender shoulder shrugs. “Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.”
I laugh.
Fuck.
I laugh.
When ten minutes ago I was feeling like shit.
Leaning close, I trace the line of her jaw. “You didn’t have to—”
Her fingers find mine, squeeze. “I know. But I wanted to. Now, quit stalling and show me off so I can play your gorgeous girlfriend who raises you a lot of money.”
“Girlfriend talk when you were giving me shit about saying I was your boyfriend just yesterday?”
“What can I say?” Another shrug. “Double standards are real.”
And then, fucking somehow, I’m laughing again.
No.
Not somehow.
It’s Kylie.
And Blake.
Later, it’s after Storm has left, after the other guys have gone too.
After a fuck-ton of money has been raised…mostly due to Kylie working the room and doing it with unassuming aplomb while the guys swooped in to support her and drive up those donations.
“Lots of years spent fundraising means I know how to turn the screws,” she told me when I asked her what her secret sauce was. Then she tossed me a grin before flitting off to the next group.
The result is that we should actually hit our funding goal in a matter of weeks.
Not months.
Not years.
If I hadn’t already wanted to claim Kylie as my own and keep her forever, tonight would have done it.
Now to just convince her of that.
Maybe I’ll take a page out of her book—girlfriend today, mine forever. Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to.
“She told me I didn’t need to book her a room.”
I still at the cold voice, any amusement fading as I turn to face Damon.
And I know I talked a big game earlier to Kylie about her not needing to worry, that her brother wouldn’t trade me just because I’ve dared touch his little sister.
But the murder in his eyes right now…
He would burn down the world for her.
A hockey team would be small potatoes.
“I don’t think I need to give voice to what’s running through my head.”
“You don’t,” I say when he pauses, my eyes drawn toward the entrance where Ky and Joey are waiting inside in the warmth until the cars are pulled around. “She’s…” I shake my head. “Well, fuck, you know how special she is.”
A beat, then a sharp, frigid reply. “I do.”
“And I know she’s…” I can’t say broken, because despite her own words, the panic in the kitchen, the fear she feels from touch, she’s not that.
No fucking way.
She’s damned smart and funny as hell and has a beautiful heart.
She just needs someone to give her something…good.
Something great.
Something beautiful.
“I promise I won’t hurt her.”
“I know you won’t.”
Startled, my eyes fly to his.
“Because if you were, you’d already be dead.”