Page 9 of One Wealthy Wedding

Cole frowns. “You sure about that?”

“It’s not my problem,” I say shortly, even as something twists in my gut at how helpless Cat looked last night.

She’s not fucking helpless. She has claws and a big bank account. She’ll be fine. I slap the puck back to Cole, and he snags it with the tip of his stick.

“Maybe you should help her out. Cat’s a nice girl.”

“Nice.” I snort. “She’s not nice. Why does everyone think that?”

“Must be those big eyes.” My brother is grinning like he likes her eyes.

“I don’t want to hear about her eyes.”

He bursts out laughing. We skate in silence for a bit, the soft shush of our skates soothing in the quiet arena. It’s still not enough to keep my thoughts from circling my problems.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” I ask. “I need a distraction. Let’s hang out.” I can’t go home to that empty mansion and be alone with my thoughts. Cole has a massive penthouse, and he’s boring as shit. No parties. No women. Not like his teammates. There’s definitely room for me.

He raises a brow. “Last time I let you stay over, you broke a chandelier. And I had to burn the sheets from the guest room.”

“Won’t happen again, I swear.”

“Why? Are you cleaning up your act?” He looks skeptical, and I shoot him the puck with angry force.

“Maybe I should.”

“Whoa, hold on.” He skates to a stop and leans against the boards in front of the penalty box. “What happened?”

“The same shit,” I bite out. My heart is pounding, and it’s not from the skating. “I have no one but myself to blame. Another article came out. Full of the usual snide comments about womanizing and partying.”

“And?” Cole asks. “That’s never bothered you before.”

“We lost an investor because of it.”

“Shit. A big one?”

“Not too big, but important. He had a lot of connections in Luxembourg, but I fucked that up. I’m supposed to be working on the expansion. Cozying up to guys like that.” I shrug. “That’s what I’m good for, I guess.”

Cole frowns, his Kennedy-esque face crinkling in concern. I brace myself for some wise comment. My brother thinks he can be the father we never had, and I love him and hate him for it.

“You’re always the first person to joke about your antics,” he says slowly. I open my mouth to protest and he holds up a gloved hand. “But if you don’t like it”—he shrugs—“change it.”

“But this is—” Who I am, I don’t say.

“Just a thought.” Cole says mildly. He’s so damn settled, while I feel unsettled, scraped raw, uncertain. Easy for him to say I should just change my whole life. He’s always relentlessly pursued his goals. I’ve taken a more meandering path.

“Say I did want to clean up my act,” I say slowly. “Where would I start?”

Cole considers me. He’s too damn thoughtful about everything.

“You know what? Forget I asked.” I shake my head.

“No. I’m thinking. What are your goals?”

“I swear if you start getting philosophical with me, I’m going to walk out of here. I’m not one of your teammates, Captain Archer.”

“Answer the question, Theo.”

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “That’s half the problem. I’m not settled like you. And I don’t want to be. But sometimes I wonder if there has to be more to life. Don’t you?”

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