Page 126 of The Maxwell Brothers
They were right, however. Attending the game wouldn’t be easy, but I wanted to be there. Hockey was my life. It wasn’t all about making money. It had never been about that. We grew up with all the comforts money could buy. Grandma and Grandpa founded the Maxwell Bookstores chainin their youth. My parents and my uncle ran it with Grandma after Grandpa passed away. They sold it for a shit-ton when I was still in school, and they set up trust funds for each of us. I never touched mine. I didn’t need it—it was all about hockey for me, and fortunately the sport paid very well.
In fact, none of us lived off our trust funds. Luke was a sought-after architect, and Tate had built an immensely successful wine business. I’d gotten the hockey bug early on, and Mom and Dad supported me through it all.
When I was drafted, most of my teammates thought the Chicago Blades just took me on because of my last name. I’d worked hard to prove I deserved my spot. I never even had to play on the Blades’ farm team either, and that was because they needed a goalie on the roster ASAP. I made my family proud when I was positioned as first pick, the player all the sportscasters thought would deliver the goods. And I did.
I headed out the back door that led to the yard. My brother’s enormous house was in the Lincoln Park neighborhood—a quiet area with larger homes and nice spacious yards. I lived in a condo in the West Loop. I liked feeling the pulse of the city: sirens, the hustle and bustle and all that goes with it.
My niece, Paisley, was in the swing I’d tied up last week from the sturdy oak tree at the side of the property.
“Having fun?” I asked her as she swung back and forth.
“Yes, Uncle Tyler. Thank you so much for building this for me.”
“You’re welcome.”
She’d hinted that she wanted one and even showed me a few pictures on an app, so I surprised her with it on her birthday. Paisley had Mom’s green eyes and the trademark Maxwell dark brown hair. She didn’t look anything like Tate’s ex-wife.
“Can you push me? I want to go really high.”
I weighed the risks, but I was right here, ready to catch her if she lost her balance. Thanks to my years on the ice, I had quick reflexes.
“Sure thing.” I planted my feet wide apart, pushing the swing with one hand and keeping my eyes trained on Paisley.
She laughed, shrieking every time she went higher. A few minutes later, her enthusiasm lessened.
“I’m getting a bit queasy,” she piped up, and I didn’t push her again.
“Don’t move your legs anymore, and it’ll slow down. If I stop it abruptly, you’ll be sick for sure.”
“Okay, Uncle Tyler.”
It took a few more minutes for the swing to slow down, and then finally Paisley put one foot down, leaning her head on the rope she was holding.
Her grin was huge. “This is fun. What are you doing out here?”
“What do you mean? Can’t I spend time with my niece?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well, yeah… but you look like you’re running away from something. Are they teasing you? If you don’t tell me, I’ll just askthem.”
I stared at her. She was ten years old. How did she already show signs of the Maxwell teasing genes?
“Fine, they’re on my case about something.”
She laughed, clapping her hands. “Ha! I knew it. And are they right about it? Wait, don’t tell me. I want to figure it out by myself.”
“Why?”
“How else will I hone my skills?”
I laughed, unconsciously massaging my injured shoulder. I liked giving Declan shit, but he was right. I needed to focus on my recovery—both in the physical sense and my reputation. And yet I couldn’t take my mind off Kendra. She was sexy as hell, yes, but something else made me straighten up and pay attention. Her honesty and sense of humor were refreshing. Was she always that fun and unassuming?
Fortunately, I’d have plenty of opportunities to find out.
CHAPTER 4
KENDRA
On Tuesday,I arrived half an hour early in Ashburn and parked at the back of the sports center directly next to the entrance of the ice rink. I took out my iPad and pulled up my email account. I was on a private mission, so I felt a bit guilty using my professional email and connections, butonlyjust a little.
