Page 361 of Branded
Didn’t want my son anywhere near him.
But how could I pull Ethan away from something he loved?
I tried to breathe, to think. We weren’t going to go anywhere near the Sierra’s locker room or players—yes, I’d planned on heading down and surprising Cas after the game, but I could tell Ethan that something had come up and that we couldn’t go down and visit today. I’d soften the blow by telling him that we’d meet Cas at his place. That way, it would still be a surprise for Cas, and it would definitely still be fun for Ethan. That had pretty much been the original plan Ethan and I had before I’d gotten the bright—dumbass—idea to ask Smitty if he happened to have any spare tickets for the game. Until then, we would watch the game and enjoy ourselves.
Until then, I would avoid looking at Nate, at Lake, and instead focus on my man, my friends.
It would be easy to stay under the radar.
Ethan and I were just two faces in a crowd of twenty-thousand people.
It would all be okay.
“That’s Lake Jordan, Mom,” Ethan breathed with almost as much awe as he’d had when first meeting Cas and Smitty and Marcel and the others.
“Yeah, bud,” I said, forcing my tone to stay neutral. “I grew up with him, remember?”
They’d had conversations about Lake when Ethan had first gotten into hockey.
A nod, his eyes glued to the ice. “But you haven’t seen him in a long time.”
“Right.” I smiled down at him.
“He’s big,” Ethan said.
Lake was. He’d always been tall and solid, but now he was muscled, and in his gear, on his skates—even across the ice he was approaching giant status. Not to mention that face.
It was…pretty.
Too pretty to risk being sliced open with skate blades and whacked with sticks.
“Yeah, he is,” I said. “Almost as big as Smitty.”
Another nod, still watching intently. “Do you think he’ll recognize you?”
“Well,” I teased. “I didn’t get big. But I doubt it,” I told him. “It’s been years, bud, and we’ve only texted and talked on the phone?—”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My head jerked up at the sharp sound.
Jerked up…and saw Lake standing there.
Waving at me. Grinning at me.
“Whoa,” Ethan murmured. “I think he recognizes you, Mom.”
Shit.
Shit.
I couldn’t form a response, not to save my life.
Because who was standing behind him?
Nate Miller.
Thirty-Nine
