Page 11 of Beautiful Collide

To say Hudson Wilde is very good-looking is an understatement.

He’s the kind of good-looking that makes you forget how to form sentences. All broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and a smile that screams trouble. I would bet that the second he makes his NHL debut, he’ll have advertisers lining up, begging for his face on a billboard. I would know. I have several on speed dial.

From a marketing standpoint, the team landed an ace. He’ll have the fans screaming from their seats each time he zips past. I can see the viral videos already.

I knew the Saints were bringing on a new player, but I never cared to research him.

I work exclusively with my brother, and while I often interact with the team, the other players aren’t my concern.

Making sure my brother is okay is.

Dane gave up his life for me.

He’d say he’s not struggling, but I see it differently. He’s hollow inside. A shell of a person.

I know the feeling.

Losing our parents, mainly Mom, changed us both to the marrow of our bones.

And here I am, trying to keep myself together, but instead, I’m losing my shit in a storage closet with one of his teammates.

A wave of nausea hits me.

Dane can never find out this happened.

How would I ever explain it?

He would want to know how and when this started.

I can’t tell him that.

I’ll have to think of an excuse for where I’ve been. Not trapped in a closet. And certainly not with his new teammate. Nope. The second he finds out about this is the second ten years of lies unravel. The darkness. The panic attacks.Him.

That can never happen.

Dane can never know.

Even if I have to lie through my teeth to make sure of it.

Lifting my hands, I bury my head in them.

“What’s going on?” Hudson rubs small circles on my back. “Is it being locked in, or is it more?”

“I hardly think that’s any of your business,” I can’t help but snap.

This is my own personal sin bin. I don’t talk about this stuff with anyone. Ever.

“Good.” He brushes off my tone, unbothered. “There’s the fire you need.”

“What?”

“You were about to lose it again, and I needed to stop you. Having you think I’m a nosy asshole is better than the alternative.”

“You’re diabolical.”

“I like to believe I am.”

Despite the fact we’re virtual strangers, Idofeel the need to tell him something. Anything. He’s been so kind. But I can’t spill too much. EvenIdon’t want to admit to myself why I’m like this.

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