The Runaway: A Small Town Runaway Bride Hockey Romance

Prologue

6 months ago

“Don’t you think it’s time?” he rasps, tilting his head in that irritating way he does when he’s letting you know in a subtle way Dad knows best.

I glare at my father. Aiden Reeves, retired boxer and now a man with too much time on his hands. Time to think and pester his kids on how they should live their lives.

I don’t take the bait and stand with a stretch. “Yeah, I suppose it is time I head back to the city. Got an early practice tomorrow.”

“Sit down,” Dad grits out.

I sit my ass back on the leather armchair in his den.

“Time for what, Dad?”

“Elliot’s place. You can’t keep avoiding it.”

“I don’t have time for any of that, Dad. Can’t you get that real estate chick you were dating to put it on the market or something?”

“We’re not selling your brother’s house, Chase,” he growls.

“Now which one of us isn’t over it?” I mutter, knowing damn well I’m going to pay for that if he heard me.

It’s a minute before he speaks again. His expression something between pain and disgust. “You never get over losing a child, Chase.”

I swallow. Yeah well, same goes for your kid brother. “Look, I’m going to do it, alright? I’ll spend the day, take a look around, clear out some things…just...”

“Not today,” he finishes, tired of my predictable excuse.

“Soon,” I assure. Though neither one of us believes it.

My kid brother, Elliot, died nearly three months ago, and I inherited his one-bedroom cottage in our small town of Hideaway Springs. For some stupid reason, Elliot looked up to me. So when his assets—which weren’t much given he was a recent college grad—were divided, I was left with his home—and everything in it.

Several years ago, after Mom died from an illness that took her from us in the span of six months, Dad made us all create a will. For “the unexpected,” he’d called it.

So my twenty-two year old brother had one. And it clearly stated that all his personal belongings would be left to Chase Reeves. Since I knew him best and would know what to do with everything.

Would you have still chosen me after that last night?

Yeah. You probably would have. My brother and I didn’t fight often. Hell, he was the sweetest kid in town. No one messed with him—and the kid could never hurt a fly.

It’s why I pushed him away from trying to play hockey—too brutal, too intense. They’d eat him alive.

Two weeks after his funeral, I set one foot in his home, set some boxes down—and walked right out.

Disappearing for the next several weeks.

Which was easy to do, since I have a condo in the city. Before I got my own place, I lived in the cottage. And left it to Elliot four years ago, when I started playing with Denver’s NHL team.

“Look, Dad, I don’t want to talk about it, alright? I’ve got to head back to the city.”

“Fine. We’ll drop it for now. Hang out for a bit. I’ll grab a couple of beers.”

I sigh. I’m not the beer drinker with Dad. Never was—never cared to be. That’s Levi—the oldest. He and Dad could sit down and throw back a case of beer without a hiccup.I’d bust my brother’s chops over all the calories, but the bastard doesn’t show it. He somehow manages to maintain abs of steel and the guy doesn’t even play a sport.

Speak of the fucking devil.

My least favorite brother pulls his truck up in front of Dad’s house like he owns the place.

“Think I’ll pass—since you’ve got company.”

“Oh, come on. I’ll grab three bottles. Sit tight.” Dad disappears into his kitchen just as Levi pushes the front door open. He pulls off his cowboy hat and hangs the hat on a hook.

Why does he wear that stupid thing?

He turns into the living room. “Hey, did you guys hear the news?”

“What news?” Dad asks, returning with three cans of Coors Light.

Levi grabs the cold beverage and lifts the remote from the coffee table, quickly pointing it at the television. “I just heard it on the radio on the drive over.”

He and Dad bond over sporting events, so I’m sure this is another one of those over-the-top reactions to an NFL trade or a boxing championship.

But when I see the news channel instead with our country’s president, I’m intrigued. “Suddenly into politics, Levi? Didn’t think your farmer brain would be into that.”

He shoots me a glare, hating it when I call him a farmer. “Shut up. You might want to tune in.” It’s the tone in his voice that throws me off. That smug—I know something you’d want to know—kind of tone.

Why the hell would I care about the President? Or his son who just appeared on screen.

The guy is a walking political cliché. Crisp suit, clean shaven, slick hair, bleached smile—no doubt a degree from Harvard. He’s waving to the crowd next to his father and stretches an arm out, welcoming someone beside him. I’m prepared to roll my eyes again.

Until I see who it is.

Wild and wavy blonde hair, familiar hazel eyes, fair skin and flushed cheeks. The only thing unfamiliar about her is the fake smile on her face.

Pepper Woods was never a pearly white smile kind of gal. She either wore a cocky smirk or belted out a wholehearted laugh. She didn’t have an in between. You either impressed the hell out of her or fell flat.

It was one of the few things I liked about her.

I was the hockey nerd. Of course, back then, it was field hockey since the local rink was ten miles away and we’d have to wait until the lake froze over during the winter before we could skate in town.

“President John Mayfield announces his son, Troy Mayfield’s, engagement to Penelope Walker, a local city girl.”

“Penelope Walker?” Levi and I repeat.

Dad chuckles in his chair in the background. “Least she kept her initials.”

Local city girl?

“Girl next door?” Levy scoffs, reading the banner on the bottom of the screen.

“Yeah, that’s just what they say when the person isn’t famous or anything. Makes it sound more romantic and sentimental,” Dad explains.

“But she wasn’t his next-door neighbor,” I point out harshly.

Dad and Levi turn to me. My brother shrugs and cocks a brow. “So? She wasn’t yours either, but you still asked her out.”

“I didn’t ask her out.”

It was nothing like that, as a matter of fact. I would have never been stupid enough to ask out Pepper Woods. She dated the quarterback of the football team and prom king Beau Hamilton.

Until her world fell apart.

The richest girl in town had nearly everything taken away, starting with her father’s assets after he was found guilty of fraud.

Then, three weeks before her eighteenth birthday, her parents died in a car accident just outside of town.

It was a tragedy for everyone in town. But something happened to Pepper after that. It was more than grief. She was like a walking zombie. A confused walking zombie. Avoiding comfort and people in general.

The minute she was of age, which was shortly after our high school graduation, she dropped everything and everyone. And left.

“Word had it, you tried talking to her in the halls a week before graduation,” Levi pokes.

“I was giving her my condolences.”

“Sure, you were.”

Dad sits up in his chair. “Well, look at that, boys? Looks like Pepper found her happily ever after, after all.”

I take a swig of my beer. I don’t know why, but I watch her eyes closely. The tightness of her lips as Troy wraps his arm around her waist.

Yeah, she’s the picture of pure bliss.

Eight years ago

My palms are sweaty as I linger just outside the cafeteria before fifth period. Pepper Woods is slouched against the tile wall, scrolling through her phone. Her auburn hair falls in thick waves around her shoulders. Her pink lips turned into a slight frown. And though I can’t see them now, her big brown eyes that were once full of spirit and wonder…have lost their shine.

And with the loss she’s suffered…it’ll be a while before she gets it back.

I should know.

I swallow and rub my hands down my jeans as I try and muster the courage to approach her.

This is a bad idea.

She’s probably heard enough. She doesn’t need another awkward few minutes of the same ‘sorry for your loss’ and ‘if there’s anything I can do…’ speech.

Not that I plan on a speech. The likelihood of Pepper giving me more than thirty seconds of her time is slim.

And the chances of the most popular girl in school being alone for just as long are even slimmer.

I start closing the distance before I change my mind.

“Pepper.”

She flinches before she turns. Something between skepticism and annoyance in her expression. “What?”

I slip my hands in my pockets, glancing around the hallway like I’m afraid her posse will come after me for talking to their queen.

I’m not a small guy; I’m considered somewhat of an athlete. Not a jock like her boyfriend Beau Hamilton, but I play a sport. Still, I wouldn’t want to come face to face with that guy right now if he sees me talkin’ to his girl.

“I just wanted to say…I’m sorry for your loss.”

Those lost but still beautiful brown eyes narrow. “Which one are you again?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a Reeves, right? Your dad’s Aiden Reeves, the boxer?”

“Yep.” I say, not bothering to tell her which one I am. She knows. She’s making a point. And I read her loud and clear.

“Yeah, well thanks. I don’t need anyone’s pity. I’m fine.”

There’s a beat as I debate whether or not to walk away. She’s grieving and this is…normal.

“Look, I’ll go. But I don’t pity you. I just…understand.”

She nods. It’s not that big a town. I know she knows my mother, Marybell, died two years ago. Everyone knows.

There’s that familiar flash of warmth in her eyes before she shakes it off with a shrug. “Well thanks, but…Beau should be here soon. That’s really all the comforting I need…”

I nod. “Well…let me know if you need anything.”

“I don’t,” she snaps. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything or anyone.” She glances over my shoulder and huffs out a breath. “There he is. You should go.”

I don’t bother turning. I offer another nod and walk away. It was a mistake talking to her.

One I’ll never make again.