Page 26 of Mind Pucked

He remains breathless, wordless after, and for the first time I struggle to actually hate him. Sure, he’s a great father, and he’s a damn good hockey player, from what I can tell, but Ihaveto hate the man who may know something about my brother’s death. I have to. Preston deserves justice, and I’m clearly the only person willing to give him that.

“No, seriously, what’s wrong?” I chance as I sit down on the sofa across from him. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

I feel a little guilty pushing at his pain. Especially after seeing the human side of him, the side he shows when only his friends are looking, but this…this is something far worse.

“When my wife died, my whole world ended, and the only reason I kept going was for that little girl in there,” he says, and it’s honestly more than I expected him to say.

“I’m sorry about that,” is all I can say, as I lower my coat and purse and sit back down.

“I don’t know why the fuck I’m telling you all this, but she wasn’t alone when she died,” he offers.

“Oh?” I say, playing the part. In truth, I’m still a little annoyed he hasn’t put two and two together about who I am.

Does he not remember me at all? Or is he so stricken with grief that he can’t see what’s going on around him? Apart from hockey and his daughter, that is.

He and my brother spent years as rivals in one way or another.

“Yeah,” he grumbles.

“Do you know who was with her when she died? I mean…did they die too?”

“The sorry bastard wasn’t with her—all I know is that a wallet was found at the scene, and the owner of that wallet was nowhere to be found.”

“Was it someone you knew?” I wonder out loud, trying not to give away the fact that I know more about the situation than any normal nanny should.

“It was,” he says. “I mean…I don’t know what the hell I mean,” he rambles on as if he’s already drank five glasses of whatever’s in his cup.

I try to gain some composure. Mentioning the wallet without even telling me who it belongs to makes no sense at all. I hate all of this, but I remind myself that being here, taking care of Hayden…this is truly the only reason I’m here—to get to the bottom of all this.

I know in my heart of hearts that Jackson has something to do with this. I still have a feeling that perhaps he suspected his wife of cheating, or that maybe she was cheating on him with my brother.

I have to take a moment before speaking again so I don’t betray myself.

“Have you thought about asking the police if there’s any more information to give you on the matter?” I ask him.

“Don’t you think I’ve exhausted my options?” he snaps as he sits up a little and leans forward, letting his cup hang limp in his hands between his knees.

“Well, how am I supposed to know? I can’t tell if you suspect something bad happened, or if this was all just an accident.” Iknow I risk losing him and this conversation for good if I keep questioning him, but I can’t help it.

“I don’t fucking know anymore,” he spouts as he gets up and storms to the kitchen.

I take this opportunity to follow him as he fiddles in the fridge for a beer. He tries for the cap on the beer a few times before growling. Here and now, even with me angry with him, he seems so helpless.

I reach across and take the beer, slamming the lid end down on the countertop until it pops off.

“How the hell?” he asks, as I hand him the beer. “You should show that little party trick to some of the guys on my team…they’d never open a beer the old-fashioned way again.”

He smiles a little, which sends some sort of chill down my spine. I don’t know where it’s coming from or what emotion it is exactly, but it’s here and I can’t shake it. I let my anger at the situation replace the chills.

“You’re welcome,” I say as I decide it’s time to leave.

Getting too comfortable with the enemy is not an option. Not when I have so many questions that I know I’m not going to find the answers for anytime soon.

He nods and heads back to the living room where he sits back down in his chair and begins to nurse his drink. I don’t know what to say or do to make the conversation go any further, so I just nod and grab my things.

“See you tomorrow,” I say as I head for the door.

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” he says behind me, but he doesn’t so much as look my way as I walk out and close the door behind me.

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