Page 84 of Rebel Bride
The sarcasm was strong with this one, but I could take it. Jason and I were close. I confided in him more than I did my dad, so I got the impression he was masking with snark his hurt that I hadn’t shared this thrilling life update.
“And what happened in Saugatuck?”
I didn’t say anything, and he lifted his hands jazz-style.
“Cool, cool. So you don’t have a freakin’ clue. Any chance she does?”
“About what?” Though I knew. Of course I did.
“That you’re head over skates in love with her.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hatch
* * *
My heart pounded hard against my rib cage.
“I told you once I thought she was pretty.”
Jason squinted. “Yeah, but then you said some other stuff. You’d had a few drinks, but you still said it.”
“It’s in the past. Years ago.”
He shook his head, pitying. “Maybe you need a little refresher. How about I tell you a story?”
“Always up for a fairytale, Uncle J.” I could match his sarcasm, for all the good it would do me.
“Well, this one probably won’t have a happy ending. Once upon a time, a doofus college kid clapped eyes on a girl at a Christmas party and fell hopelessly in love.”
“Lust is more accurate.”
He passed over my clarification. “But she was with someone else. Worse, she was with someone he knew, so he remained a gentleman and never made a move.” Jason wagged a finger. “But he did spend the next five years being a total dick to her. Pretending to hate her made it easier, I suppose. Kids and their coping mechanisms.”
I examined the label of a granola box. Damn, that was high in sugar. “Kind of extrapolating from minimal facts there.”
“Okay, how about these facts? About three years ago, this same kid had a chance to take a job and work with his dear old dad, but he told his agent to resist all efforts to trade him to the Rebels. He didn’t think it would be a, quote, good move, unquote.”
“I had a change of heart and came on board, didn’t I?”
“Only because Theo said it was his last year in the pros, and it would make him so shiny-happy if his eldest jumped in. He doesn’t know you turned down the first offer because you couldn’t bear to be in the same city as Summer.”
“I told you that in confidence.”
My uncle’s expression turned sympathetic. “I know. And I’ve never breathed a word. Still won’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to talk this through with you. Hatch, you made career choices because this woman, who you couldn’t have, was living in your hometown. You’ve spent the last year acting like an asshole to her and now you’re harboring her like she’s a fugitive?”
“It just … happened. I was under that window when she climbed out. Do you think I wanted to be the one who rescued her? I didn’t even like her. Yeah, I was obsessed with her. But like? No. And I wanted to keep it that way because even if she was no longer with Carter, no good could come out of getting to know her better. I couldn’t help her one day and look my teammate in the eye the next.”
Jason’s expression was one hundred percent pity now. I hated it.
“But you did help her. And from the body language I just witnessed, I’m guessing you helped her all the way to a fucking orgasm. I’m even going to hazard another guess and say that the ‘not liking’ thing is no more. You created a cozy little love nest in the Tuck, and this just got a whole lot more complicated.”
How was this possible? Each passing second brought new twists and turns.
Jason’s rehashing of events was correct. A few years ago, barely a year into my stint with Denver, I had rejected the push to trade me to the Chicago Rebels because I didn’t want to be around her. I didn’t want to be around them. Watching Carter touch her, kiss her, own her, made me sick with jealousy, so I told my dad I wasn’t ready to move. He was disappointed but he didn’t push it.
Then I decided to sac up. Knowing it was likely my dad’s last year in the pros, I figured that was more important than this ridiculous obsession I had for a woman I had barely spoken to. I could be civil to Carter, indifferent to Summer, and would play my best hockey to honor my dad. I would handle it like a boss.
