Page 82 of The Playmaker

“Nope.”

“Little Neaner Neaner, who hates hockey, suddenly has an interest in it. What’s up with that?”

“Maybe hockey isn’t so stupid. And you know I hate when you call me that,” I say against his shoulder as his warmth curls around me, cocoons me.

“Hey, come on. It’s a term of endearment. Only special girls get special names.”

Pretty BallerNina.

Emotions well up inside me and unable to stop them, tears fall, and when I give a big hiccupping sound, Cason stiffens.

I don’t cry around my brother. I never have. But I’m so raw inside, so cut up and confused and hurt, there is nothing I can do to keep the tears from spilling. God, I hate myself right now. Hate that I let myself get in deep with Cole.

Cason gently pulls me into the house and shuts the door. It softly clicks in place behind me. The house is quiet this time of day, with Mom and Dad both at work. Cason holds my shoulders and inches back. His blue eyes take me in and there’s real concern on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I…I missed you,” I say, and while that’s true, I missed him like crazy, there is more going on inside of me.

“Hey, I’m here now.” He glances past my shoulder, uncomfortable with my display of affection and not knowing how to handle it. “Want to grab a bite to eat?”

I note the way he’s changing the subject, unable to deal with my emotions. Then again, maybe that’s just his way, and maybe that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.

I nod, and he grabs a tissue to wipe my face. “I’ll make something here,” I say.

“No, we’ll go out.” He makes a fist and nudges my chin, and it brings a smile to my face. “The least I can do is treat my sister to a meal, right?”

I nod and I sniff back the tears and wipe my cheeks as we step outside. We climb into his car and a few minutes later, he pulls up in front of one of my favorite restaurants. Not that I eat here often. I can’t afford it.

The hostess seats us, places our menus on the table and, as she tells us the specials, I look at my tough-as-nails brother, take in his scars, ones that were made on the ice, not from a skipping rope.

My stomach tightens, the noise inside the cafe fading to a dull roar as I think of the pain Cole endured. I wish I hadn’t been so mean to him back in the day. Then again, he did tease me all the time. But still, I’m so glad our house was a sanctuary for him.

The hostess leaves and Cason stretches. “It’s good to be home.”

“Did you beat up guys who looked at me?” I ask, and his head rears back with the question.

“Ah, what?”

“Did you beat up guys who looked at me?” I pick up my napkin and wrap it around my fingers.

He glances around, like he’s being punked or something. “Where is this coming from, Nina?”

“I just want to know.” The waitress comes with our water, and we both glance over the menus quickly. We put in our order and when she leaves, I ask, “Did you?”

His nostrils flare and his fingers curl. “You’re my little sister, of course I did.”

People show love in different ways.

As Cole’s words ping around inside my brain, a laugh wells up inside me. Inappropriate considering the circumstances? For sure.

“You know, all these years I never thought guys liked me, only to find out you were scaring them off.”

His jaw clenches. “How did you find out?”

Damn, he’s really pissed that I know he was protecting me from the shadows. Cole protected me, too. He was the one I called when Kenny drove me to the middle of nowhere and demanded I put out. He’s the one who wanted to go after the bartender who abused me and made me feel like a whore.

I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter.” I reach across the table and put my hand over his. “How come you didn’t tell me the trust fund was from you?”

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