Page 15 of For Pucking Keeps

I wait for her to say more, but when nothing comes,I blow out a breath. “I needed to get out of there, Mama,” I finally say. “I will spare you the details of what I came home to that night, but I jumped in my car and started driving. I didn’t think straight, but I needed to put as much distance between me and them as I could. Then found myself in Seattle,” I say as I continue to go through my morning routine. “I mean, it was more complicated than that, of course, but I needed a clean slate. I can’t come back to Texas. Not now. If Shaun wants the house, he can buy me out, but right now, I need to be here.”

“O-kay,” she replies slowly, without rebuttal, I expected more of a lecture. I’m about to ask her if she’s going to say more but stop when she speaks again. “You’ve been through enough these past few months, I get it. You’re a grown woman. I can’t tell you what to do. I want you to be happy, and if Seattle is where you need to be to achieve it, then I am content. Next time, call your mama, Alexis. Shay and Dawn need to hear from you as well. Your sisters won’t be as nice as I’ve been.”

I huff because I know they are going to give me hell. I smile in anticipation. I’ll welcome it.

“Thank you, Ma. I’m truly sorry. I know I still have a lot to deal with back home, and I promise I will. As far as my recent media exposure, it’s all being blown out of proportion. Someone took a picture of me and said hockey player, and things went a bitcrazy from there. He offered me his help because of the next book I am writing. That’s it, nothing more. He’s famous, with loads of fans invested in his life. It will all blow over soon.” I shrug, wanting nothing more for my own words to be truth.

“Well, good. I can ignore all the gossip. I love you, Alexis. I know how you get when you’re writing, so I don’t expect a call every day, but reach out, please.” I hear sadness in her voice and feel terrible all over again. Hurting my mother and sisters was the last thing I wanted to do when I left.

“I’m sorry?—”

“Alexis Rhodes, if you tell me you’re sorry again, I will fly to Seattle and whoop your ass,” she threatens using her stern mom voice. Nothing like a good threat from your mother to set your life right. “Now, tell me all about this new book you’re writing.”

I don’t apologize again, instead, I tell her all about my book idea as I continue to get ready for my day out with Tor. What I don’t say is I haven’t written a word. I don’t tell her that I am struggling emotionally, that I feel inadequate. I don’t tell her I’m not enough, and it was Shaun who made me feel this way. I don’t tell her I ran because I was afraid of everyone around me seeing it too. I don’t tell her of the mental walls blocking my creativity because of everything that’s happened this year. No. I don’t want her to worry because I am the daughter she never has to worry about. The one who’s always been strong and had her shit together. I keep it all to myself to unpack later. Some of these realizations I hadn’t figured out until now.

We fall into an easy conversation, as if no time has passed between the last time we spoke. By the time I end the call I’m in good spirits and feel lighter. I forget about the press, paparazzi, and petty gossip. For the first time in months I have something to look forward to. Sometimes all it takes to reboot your mood is the comfort of your mother’s voice and a good talk.

TOR

I pull up in front of Jaz’s home in my SUV bright and early. I didn’t sleep much as I went through the plans I have in store for her today. Not wanting to waste a minute of my free day, I jump out of the car and stare up at the beautiful craftsman style bungalow in front of me. Dark grey siding with black trim, the exterior probably looks exactly like it did when it was built over a hundred years ago. The house is tucked within a slope with natural stone steps leading up to the front porch. The front door is made of stained-glass panels, with images depicting flowers, trees, and woodland creatures, framed in a polished dark oak wood. Two largewindows sit on either side of the door, the curtains are drawn but I can imagine being able to see directly through the interior if they were open.

The magical part about this place, in my opinion, is the second floor. Windows line the front and sides, I assume it’s an almost three-hundred-and-sixty-degree perspective if it extends to the back. I hope I get to find out. I’m sure the view from up there is the reason why Jaz bought the place. I’ll have to ask her. I take a good look at the homes surrounding hers, including Lia’s, and remember a conversation about the homes all being restored to their original specifications a few years ago.

The neighborhood is quaint and quiet, so far from the hustle and bustle of the downtown area where my penthouse is. Just standing here feels like an escape from it all. There’s no one shouting my name or trying to take pictures, and no one hiding in wait to sabotage my day with random drama. Now I know why Ridley found this place for his sister years ago. He placed her here to protect her, and I’m relieved Jaz will be safe here as well.

A door slams from next door as I hurry up the front steps of Jaz’s yard, pausing as Lia comes into view. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a mess of curls. From where I’m standing she looks as if she’s still in her pajamas, a large tote hangs from her shoulders, with a purple knitted cardigan spilling over the sides.She rushes to her car, but when she sees me she stops short, and jogs across the yard towards me.

“Did you talk to Ridley last night?” she asks as she pushes her black-rimmed glasses up on her nose. Considering the nature of the question, I try not to smile. Lia is like a little sister to me, a little momma bear when it comes to her big brother. Especially the past two years after Rid’s breakup, so I’m not surprised that whatever’s the matter she’s scurried out of her home in her sleepwear. I bet it hasn’t registered or she just doesn’t give a damn. Probably the latter. But she is rocking the oversized black t-shirt with the words ‘Dream Smutty Dreams’ on the front, with red and black checkered pants regardless. Her brows are pinched in concern as she taps her foot waiting for me to reply. Does she realize she’s wearing house shoes?

“I talked to him last night on the bus back to the arena. I think he went out with Devan and the rest of the team though. Why?” I ask, pulling my phone from my back pocket to check and see if I missed any messages from the guys. If there had been trouble they would have called me, or worse, it would be all over social media by now. I already had to deal with the fall out of my post-game interview from last night and it’s not even ten in the morning yet.

“Apparently he got really drunk last night. Devan called me and said he was taking him back to his place. Somehow they managed to keep the bunnies away from him. So that’s a relief, I guess, but Tor, Devan said Rid drunk dialed Brea last night. According to Devan, my brother cried, begged her to take him back and demanded to see her. He asked for her forgiveness for all the shit she’s had to witness him doing these past two years.” Her sigh is weary, and her shoulders slump forward. I already know where this is going. “Devan said she hung up. He’s a mess all over again, Tor,” she says, her lips pinching in a tight sympathetic grimace, her bright blue eyes shiny with unshed tears.

I fold my hands over my chest and hang my head. This is my fault. He was trying to give me advice. By doing so he reopened his own wounds. “Fuck.” Is all I can say. I turn and look back at Jaz’s door and then back at Lia. I have plans, but if Ridley needs me.

“I’ll—”

“No.” She points behind me, then steps closer and pokes me in the chest. “You are here for Jaz, be there for her. I saw you and thought you knew what was happening. Now you know. I am going to Devan’s to get my brother. I will take him home and look after him today. It’s the least I can do. I know Ridley’s not been himself. I haven’t been happy with his behavior since this all blew up. But he’s taken care of me since our parents died, so now it’s my turn to take care of him. I know it’s not the same, but I will be there for him no matter how much he fucks up. Because we have no one but each other. I got him. You go make sure my friend has a great day.” She smiles and gives me a little shove toward Jaz’s door.

“You’re a good sister, Lia. Ridley is blessed to have you. He was trying to help me get out last night. I feel like his emotional relapse is my fault. But maybe it’s time for him to actually deal with the way he and Brea left things. Who knows, there may be a way for them to work it out.”

“Maybe,” Lia acquiesces. “It’s been two years, Tor. Brea has moved on. The last I heard she was dating another musician. It couldn’t have been easy for her to see Ridley’s continuous spiral downhill since their breakup.”

I nod my head noncommittally, not sure what to say, because he didn’t take it well when he saw her on the arms of other men either these past few years. They have both hurt each other. When you hear her music, for those of us who know her, you know exactly who she is referring to in those songs.

I watch Lia back away from me, then turn with a wave as she heads to her car.

“Lia,” I call after her as she reaches her car.

“Yeah?” she replies, opening her car door and tossing her bag in the passenger seat.

“You have me, and I am sure you have Devan too.” I wink and she rolls her eyes at my mention of Devan. “You are not alone, and neither is Ridley. You are both family,” I say, hoping she hears me. She gives me a short nod of understanding and climbs into her car. I watch her pull away, wondering if this is the end of Ridley’s fuckboy era. I can only hope. Ridley and Brea love each other, for fuck’s sake. If they can’t find their way back to each other then what hope is there for second chances? I guess only time will tell.

“Tor.” I hear my name and turn to see Jaz at her front door. My feet move on their own until I’m standing right in front of her. I let my eyes roam her body, her hair is half up and half down, loose natural curls kiss her shoulders. It’s cold this morning. She’s in a white cable knit sweater with a brown and black plaid flannel shirt over it. Dark denim hugs her curves, leaving nothing to my imagination. She is breathtaking, fresh faced without an ounce of makeup, and my dick is instantly awake. God, it’s a turn on to know that she doesn’t feel the need to plaster herself in makeup. I can tell she’s confident in her own skin, and I like what I see. I like her.

“Tor. Is everything okay?” she asks, smirking back at me, knowing exactly what I’ve been doing for the past few seconds it had taken me to peruse her body.

I glance up at her and smirk back and give her complete honesty. “You’re gorgeous, Miss Starr.” I smile at her reaction. Jaz’s brows raise in surprise at my response, giving me an impressed look. Did I catch her off guard? By her reaction, yes, I did.

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