Chapter 30 Tish
TISH
The tension in the small cabin is suffocating as I stare at my brother’s furious face.
Carl clears his throat behind me, and I feel his hand briefly touch my shoulder.
“I should give you two some privacy, Trisha,” Carl says quietly, his voice carrying that gravelly tone that always sends shivers down my spine. His hand brushes against mine as he walks past me, and the brief contact sends electricity through my entire body.
The way he says my full name, with such care and protection, makes my chest tighten with emotion.
I watch as he walks away, admiring the confident way he carries himself, the way his shoulders fill out his sweater.
The moment Carl closes the door behind him, the atmosphere in the living room shifts dramatically.
The cozy Christmas ambiance—the twinkling lights, the garland draped along the mantle—suddenly feels suffocating rather than comforting.
Trent’s face is a mask of barely controlled fury, his light blue eyes blazing with an anger I haven’t seen since we were teenagers.
His dark hair has escaped from its usual ponytail, strands falling around his face in a way that makes him look wild, dangerous.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Tish?” he explodes, his voice echoing off the walls.
The sudden volume makes me flinch, and I’m grateful that Becky is safely tucked away at the babysitter’s cabin with Krystal, probably building snowmen or decorating cookies, blissfully unaware of this confrontation.
Before I can even form a response, Trent reaches into his jacket and pulls out a manila envelope.
He tosses it at me so quickly I don’t catch it, and it falls to the floor. Photographs spill out across the hardwood.
My blood turns to ice as I see them. Two crystal-clear images that make my stomach drop to my feet.
The first shows me kissing Jake outside the hotel, his hands tangled in my hair, my body pressed against his in a way that leaves no doubt about the passion between us.
The second captures the moment Ash kissed me in behind the RV when we were broken down, his strong arms wrapped around me, my face tilted up to his with obvious desire.
“Care to explain these?” Trent’s voice is deadly quiet now, which is somehow worse than his shouting. He’s standing over me like an avenging angel, his muscular frame tense with rage.
I scramble to pick up the photos, my hands shaking as I try to process what I’m seeing.
The person watching me is sending the photos to my brother? The new violation feels like a physical blow, making it hard to breathe.
“Trent, I can explain—”
“Explain what?” he cuts me off, his voice rising again. “That you’re sleeping with my best friend? That you’re also apparently screwing around with that playboy Jake? Jesus Christ, Tish, what are you thinking?”
The accusation in his tone makes my own anger flare to life. I stand up, clutching the photos to my chest, and face him head-on. “I’m thinking that I’m a grown woman who can make her own choices!”
“Grown woman?” Trent laughs bitterly, the sound harsh and mocking. “A grown woman doesn’t sleep around with multiple guys on the same team. A grown woman thinks about her daughter before she acts like a—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I warn, my voice low and dangerous. The Christmas tree lights seem to flicker with the intensity of my rage. “Don’t you dare judge me, Trent. You have no idea what I’ve been through, what I’m dealing with.”
“I know exactly what you’re dealing with!” he shouts back. “You’re dealing with the consequences of your poor choices, just like always. First Mica, now this. When are you going to learn?”
The mention of Mica’s name hits me like a slap. “That’s not fair, and you know it. I was young and stupid. This is completely different.”
“Is it?” Trent’s eyes are blazing now, his face flushed with anger. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re making the same mistakes all over again. Getting involved with dangerous men, putting yourself and Becky at risk.”
“Ash and Jake aren’t dangerous!” I protest, though even as I say it, I think about the anonymous messages, the sabotage, the feeling of being watched. “They’re good men who care about me.”
“Both of them?” Trent’s voice drips with sarcasm. “How convenient. And what about Carl? Are you sleeping with him too? Going for the whole damn team?”
The crude way he says it makes me see red. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know that Ash is my best friend, and you’re going to ruin that,” Trent says, his voice cracking slightly. “I know that you’re going to tear this team apart if you continue this. And I know that when it all falls apart, I’m going to be the one left picking up the pieces, just like always.”
His words cut deep because there’s truth in them that I don’t want to acknowledge. The fear that I’m being selfish, that I’m hurting people I care about, has been eating at me for weeks.
“I never asked you to pick up my pieces,” I say quietly, but Trent’s not done.
“You never had to ask!” he explodes. “When Mom and Dad died, who took care of you? When you got pregnant and had to run from Mica, who helped you disappear? I’ve been there whenever you needed me!”
The words hang in the air between us like a physical presence. I can see the moment he realizes what he’s said, the way his face pales slightly, but it’s too late. The damage is done.
“So that’s what I am to you?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the soft Christmas music still playing in the background. “A mess to be cleaned up? A burden you’ve been carrying?”
“Tish, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” Tears are burning behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “You meant every word. You resent me for Mom and Dad dying. You resent me for needing your help. You resent me for existing.”
“That’s not true,” Trent says, his voice low and urgent.
“Isn’t it?” I stand up straighter, drawing on every ounce of strength I have. “You think I don’t know? You think I don’t see the way you look at Ash and the other players sometimes? Like you wish you were out there instead of stuck dealing with your screwed-up little sister?”
Trent’s face goes white, and I know I’ve hit the mark. The truth has been sitting between us for years, unspoken but always present.
“I never asked you to give up hockey,” I continue, my voice getting stronger. “I never asked you to sacrifice your dreams for me. You made that choice, Trent. You don’t get to blame me for it now.”
“You were nineteen!” he shouts. “You were a kid! What was I supposed to do, leave you to fend for yourself?”
“Maybe!” The word tears out of my throat. “Maybe that would have been better than spending the rest of my life feeling guilty for ruining yours!”
The silence that follows is deafening. We’re both breathing hard, staring at each other across a chasm that feels impossible to bridge.
The Christmas tree lights continue to twinkle merrily, a mockery of the holiday spirit that should be filling this room.
“I love you, Tish,” Trent says finally, his voice broken. “You’re my sister, and I love you. But I can’t watch you destroy yourself again. And I can’t watch you destroy my friendship with Ash.”
“So what are you saying?” I ask, though I’m afraid I already know.
“I’m saying you need to choose. Stop playing games with these men’s hearts. Pick one and let the others go…or walk away from all of them.”
The ultimatum hangs between us like a sword. I think about Ash’s protective strength, Jake’s playful charm, Carl’s steady presence. How can I choose between them when each one fills a different part of my heart?
“And if I don’t?” I challenge.
“Then you’re on your own,” Trent says quietly. “I won’t be there to pick up the pieces this time.”
The threat hits me like a physical blow.
Despite everything, despite the anger and resentment, Trent has always been my safety net. The thought of losing that, of losing him, makes my chest tight with panic.
“You don’t mean that,” I whisper.
“I do.” His voice is steady now, resolved. “I’m done enabling your bad choices, Tish. It’s time for you to grow up and face the consequences of your actions.”
Before I can respond, before I can even process what he’s saying, the front door bursts open with such force that it slams against the wall.
Cold air rushes in, along with a flurry of snow, and Ash is standing in the doorway.