Page 318 of Branded
Ethan…he would have a great night, the best night. And I would protect him, no matter what. Exactly like I had from the time he’d been growing in my belly.
I would keep him safe.
I’d done a good job so far, and had confidence that I would continue to do so.
I had to believe in that one fact.
Otherwise, I was going to bundle Ethan up in my arms and run screaming from the room because between my need to protect my baby and the fact that I was very much not on the periphery, I was nearing panic.
Fingers on my cheek, a warm chest close to my back, lips I knew could kiss and reduce me to a bundle of aching nerves whispering in my ear. “Breathe, gorgeous.”
Air hissing out of my mouth.
My body aching to relax, to melt against him.
Not going to happen.
And as for the eyes, they would see soon enough that there wasn’t anything between me and Cas—minus a few kisses and some apples and pancakes—and those were nothing (insert my slightly hysterical laughter here). Cas was just doing a nice thing for my son, all of them were, so none of this meant anything (and yeah, there was more laughter here, this time of the delusional variety).
Speaking of my son, I should probably be paying attention to Ethan.
Yup.
I definitely needed to watch my kid—while at the same time avoiding getting even closer to the sexy hockey player who was standing close, the smell of soap and spice filling my nose. I needed to avoid that sexy hockey player who was pretending not to hurt while he showed my son around and generally made Ethan’s night, his year, his life.
The thing was…I knew too much about buried pain.
Which meant, as much as I knew I needed to retreat to the sidelines, I also knew…I was going to be an idiot.
Because I wasn’t going to retreat.
Because I hated that Cas was hiding his hurts.
Of course, I could hate it without doing anything about it, without crossing my own line, without being an idiot and risking my and Ethan’s hearts.
I could do that.
Sure.
“Whoa! You’re so tall, Smitty!” Ethan said, and I shook my head (shaking the tangled thoughts right out of my brain) and focused on the scene that was unfolding in front of me. Just in time to watch my son six-plus feet in the air. Literally. Because he was sitting on Smitty’s shoulders, and the tall hockey player was inexplicably jumping straight up and down. Repeatedly.
“Um…” I whispered, thinking that if this was how professional hockey players passed their time on this team, then they were a hell of a lot tamer than I’d previously thought.
Fried cheese. Excited jumping. A maniacal, blue-furred stuffed creature propped in a place of honor on a shelf by the door.
These guys were weird.
“He’s trying to touch the lucky spot.”
I blinked. Okaaay. That explanation wasn’t any better.
“Um…” I whispered again.
Cas set his hand on the back of my neck, tilted my head slightly up and to the side. “Right there. See?”
I squinted, saw there was a…oh, I saw it then. There was a sticker with the Breakers logo stuck to the ceiling, almost hidden between two of the industrial tiles that formed the top of the room.
“I almost…” Ethan grunted and stretched as Smitty jumped again and his fingertips just brushed the sticker. “Got it!”
