Page 33 of Shootout
I glanced toward the living room, but the women were drinking wine and making too much noise to hear us.
“They were going to be married, but he put off setting a date. We should’ve seen a years-long engagement as a red flag, but we didn’t. They’d been a couple so long we considered him part of the family. Over a year ago, he took that new job hours away. Next thing we know, he’s moving on, and she’s pining for him.”
“Wow, that sucks,” I said for lack of anything else to say.
“Now Rick has someone else. Jessie thought he’d come back. He said he needed time. The dickwad didn’t have the courage to tell her he was done. Instead, he filled her with all that ‘take a break’ nonsense,” Wild muttered, beating the ingredients so hard I waited for the bowl to break.
Shit. We didn’t dare use that reason when we broke up. I didn’t want to be that guy.
Talking to her family, I realized this fake relationship had to continue longer than planned, or I’d look like a first-class asshole. My celibacy would also have to continue. I didn’t dare pick up a puck bunny on a road trip. Wild would know about it. I didn’t want to be lumped into the same category as Rick, even if I probably fit there. This whole fake girlfriend thing was getting more and more complicated.
“What we’re trying to say is that we’re all gun-shy. You’re going to have to work twice as hard as Rick did to get in our good graces, and it won’t come easy.”
“Understood. I have two younger sisters, and I’d feel the same way.” Another truth. One downside of living in Seattle is that I couldn’t put the fear of God in my sisters’ dates. Braden and I used to tag-team the poor guys. Most people can’t be in two places at once, but we could. We were relentless with our threats, and our interference pissed off our sisters multiple times.
Wild turned to look at me. “Then you know what the consequences can be if a guy hurts your sister.”
“I do.” I met Wild’s gaze and hoped he didn’t see the deception there. I was becoming more and more uncomfortable deceiving these people. If I got out of this mess unscathed, it’d be a miracle.
ChapterEleven
TEMPORARY
~~Jessie~~
Dinner progressed better than I’d expected. Banks had managed an easy truce with the men in my family. Even Jason put aside his animosity for the occasion, though he maintained a wary suspicion.
After dinner, I helped clean up while the guys hung out in the living room, watching hockey and drinking beer. Ever since I was a young child, it’d rankled me how much I was excluded from hockey talk and lumped in with the women. My irritation wasn’t fair because my entire family preferred hockey except for my mom, so some of us had to take on the “help Mom” duties. I just didn’t understand why those someones had to be Brenda and me. No matter how hard I tried to prove myself and how much praise my family heaped upon me, I would forever be on the outside looking in. I’d never played professional men’s hockey, therefore, I wasn’t allowed in the club. They didn’t mean to hurt me or even exclude me; they did it without thinking.
I strained to hear parts of the conversation, having as much interest in the league and the Sockeyes as the guys did, but I only caught a word or two over the banging of pots and running of water. At one point, I glanced at my sister, and she shrugged. She didn’t have the chip on her shoulder I did, but she understood.
“You’ll never change them, but you gotta love them,” she said in a lowered voice.
“Are you sure?” I shot back.
“Sure of which part, changing or loving?”
“Both.”
She winked at me. “We have to do what we can do to further women’s hockey, pick our battles wisely, and fight on. They’re not where we need to concentrate our energy.”
“I know you’re right.”
“I’m always right, big sis.”
I rolled my eyes, and she chortled with glee, drawing a questioning look from our mother, but we didn’t care to enlighten her. Mom still couldn’t fathom why we’d choose hockey over figure skating, even though she accepted our choice.
We finished up, and I hurried to the living room, anxious to rescue Banks and to get in on the end of the hockey talk. I paused and glanced around the room, not seeing Banks. If he’d escaped, I wouldn’t have blamed him.
“Where’s Banks?” I asked my brother.
He jerked his thumb toward the deck. “Out there getting fresh air and a break from us assholes.”
I nodded, grabbed a bottle of beer for Banks and filled my wineglass, then went outside. The evening was quite warm for late September, and the sun set in the distance, casting an orange reflection on the water below.
Banks gave me a quick smile before turning back to the scenery.
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” I asked to break the silence. I handed him the beer and leaned against the railing next to him.
