Page 8 of War

When I swing the door open, Trish is there, messy hair, smudged lipstick, hazy eyes. “Where is he?”

Her voice is scratchy from smoking, yet still too loud for the still night.

I step out into the hall and shut the door so we don’t wake him. “Keep it down.”

Trish pushes against my bare chest, the move weak, uncoordinated. “Don’t shush me. That’s my kid in there. I’ll wake him up if I want to.”

“Yeah, that’s your kid,” I hiss, anger getting the best of me, and point toward the door. “Your kid who spent the whole day wondering where his mom was because you weren’t there when he woke up for school and because you never came home.Again.We both know you weren’t working, since I’m the one paying your bills. I’m not asking where you were. Don’t need to. I already know the answer. But if you can’t get yourself together for him, then don’t show up here and go on about him being your kid.”

She throws an arm out to push me again but stumbles forward this time. I grab both her arms to steady her, hit with the stench of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and Chanel No. 5. Even as my stomach twists from the vile mixture of scents, my heart aches for her. She’s an adult and she needs to have her shit together so she can take care of her son, but her husband died a few years ago, and from what I’ve been told by the volunteers and staff at the Y, she hasn’t been the same since.

That’s how I met Brayden.

When I was traded to Boston, I promised myself things would be different. I spent the off season volunteering at the YMCA, and backwhen Trish still worked, he spent a couple of hours after school there each day.

We became friends. Or something resembling it. Friendship for a kid who has more snark than an old man on a street corner with a cigarette looks different from what most expect. Sarcasm is his love language, so when he’s an ass to me, it’s because, deep down, he appreciates me. Even if he didn’t, I’d show up. That’s what he needs. A person in his life who’s there when he needs them.

The door next to mine swings open, catching my attention as well as Trisha’s. The wild red hair registers before the identity of my neighbor does. It isn’t until she steps into the hall, arms wrapped around her torso, that it hits me. My mood swings like a pendulum, lifting at my sheer luck. Damn, is it really possible that the woman I’m obsessed with is my neighbor? Looks like I didn’t need that number after all.

As a smile spreads across my face, hers puckers in a scowl.

That’s when I remember that I’m holding on to a woman who looks like she’s just been fucked. Her hands are pressed against my bare chest, and I’m gripping her upper arms, holding her in place. “It’s not—” I snap my mouth shut and release my hold on Trisha. “Go inside.”

The way her lips turn up makes my stomach twist. She’s so drunk she actually believes I’m inviting her in. She’s offered herself up on a platter more than once. Says since I’m paying her, I might as well take advantage of the perks.

Bile rises in my throat at the thought, but I take a deep breath and tamp down the reaction. Once she’s inside and the door is shut, I turn to Ava.

“It’s not what you think.” I step toward her, hands up.

She shakes her head. “Right.”

“I didn’t have your number, and there was an emergency.”

The laugh she lets out is louder and more sardonic than seems fitting for such an angelic-looking woman. “Yeah, an emergency.”

Hot anger pulses through me. This fucking night. I lower my head and run my hand through my hair, determined to start over. “There’s this kid?—”

“Save your breath.” She holds up her hands. “I’mworking for Langfield Corp, and I heard you’re ahockey player.” The last two words leave her like they’re a curse. Like my status as a hockey player damns me in her mind.

Hands fisted at my sides, I straighten. “And?”

“And I will be handling charitable relations for the company.” She lifts her chin, as if that revelation should surprise me.

“Okay?”

“So we’ll be working together.”

I bark out a laugh. “No. I play hockey. You work for the corporation. We do notworktogether.”

“We’re neighbors.”

Though she probably thinks it’s a deterrent, that fact tugs a genuine smile from me. Yeah, we are.

“I kind of figured you lived in this building, since we met in the gym downstairs.” I lick my lips and take another step forward.

She takes in a surprised breath, her chest expanding and her arms tightening around her torso. She’s so fucking pretty it hurts.

“I’m sorry I missed our date,” I rasp, taking another step. “I’d like to make it up to you.”

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