Page 27 of Whirlwind
“Yeah, I don’t know any of them, though. Apparently, she wasn’t close to them. Dad said none of them showed up for their wedding or contacted him about me after she left.”
“You’re close with your dad?” he asks, and now Iamuncomfortable. Because, no, I’m not close with my dad. And that’s not something I want to discuss. My past is not high on my list of conversational topics, even with people I’m close to.
“Was this trade harder because of Isla and Cillian?”
Tyson’s gaze narrows on me, registering my redirect. For a second, I think he’s going to call me out on it, but he doesn’t.
“Yes, and Coach Cole. History isn’t always so easy to ignore. Plus, I wasn’t sure if the other guys would distance themselves in favor of keeping Cillian comfortable.”
“You were in love with her, weren’t you?”
“It felt like I was,” he says after some hesitation.
“Isn’t that all the definition you need? If it feels like love, it’s love.”
“Because love is just a feeling?”
“Isn’t it?” I ask with a smile, because we’re still doing the question thing.
“Is it?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never felt it. Not like, romantically, anyway.”
“Are you always this insightful?”
“No.” I laugh. “You were right when you said I’m curious, though. I don’t like not knowing things.”
“On that note, let’s get installing a security system under our belt,” he says, draining his mug and standing up. I get the feeling he’s deflecting now. Since he let me get away with it, I’ll do the same for him.
Within two hours, we’ve completed the task. I set it up on the Wi-Fi and my phone, while Tyson placed the sensors and motion detectors, saying I’m too short to reach.
I snarked at him for that, but he’s right. I’m far shorter than him. They never look that big on the ice when you’re watching from the stands or on television. But almost every guy on the team is six foot or taller.
Conversation didn’t wane while we worked. Tyson chattered a lot about his family, especially his sister, who seems very important to him. He worries about her, and I find it sweet. When I was young, I wished I had a sibling. A big brother to protect me from the shadows under the bed.
I’d bet his sister never had those thoughts. I bet she felt safe.
After we’re done, he goes home to change, which gives me the chance to shower and dress in real pants before we go to lunch. When I get in his truck, he waits to start the engine until I’ve got my seat belt fastened. I never ride in a car without one, but I’m still amused by how adamant he is about it.
“You’re a gentleman at heart, aren’t you, Tyson?”
“What do you mean by at heart?”
“I mean, I don’t know how gentlemanly it is to bring a different woman home every night. But it is gentlemanly to help your neighbor with her alarm system and make sure she’s got her seat belt on correctly.”
“How much of my business can you see from your tiny house across the street?” he asks, once again blushing some.
“I don’t mean to be nosey, but your friend’s house basically takes up the whole view from the front of my house. It’s hard not to notice the visitations,” I say. “Besides, I don’t judge other people’s sex lives.”
“You just said it’s not gentlemanly to screw a different woman every night,” he accuses.
“Shit, Tyson. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound like some kind of insult,” I stammer.
“Kit,” he says softly, picking up my hand. “I’m teasing. It’s fine.”
“Both hands on the wheel, please,” I say, pulling my fingers away. “Sorry, I told you I can be awkward. I’m not always good at reading people.”
“You do just fine,” he says, looking at my other hand gripping the door handle. “Does being in a car make you nervous?”
