Page 49 of Her Greatest Mistake

“Look, I know that I just look like a stubborn ass, and maybe that’s exactly what I am. Or maybe I’m just a guy with a good sense of self-preservation. I love you, man, but you don’t understand what I’m feeling.”

He doesn’t look as if he buys what I’m selling, and I internally groan. “I don’t? Huh. That’s funny because I remember losing a lot that day too. I just didn’t let her get away from me the same way you did.”

“What are you saying?” I ask through gritted teeth.

Cooper rubs a rough hand over his mouth—a tell that he’s trying to rein in his frustration. Not driven by emotion, he’s always the most level-headed person in the room. I don’t know whether to take it as a compliment or not that I have the ability to push his buttons so easily.

“I’m saying that maybe you’re pushing the resentment you hold toward yourself for letting her leave onto her, and it’s keeping you both from moving on.”

I bark a laugh, the realness in his statement startling me. “Thank God you didn’t go into psychology,” I force out.

His smile is sympathetic, and I fucking hate it. “Yeah, maybe I’m just talking crazy right now.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I say lightly in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

He lays a hand on my shoulder, and his smile becomes more relaxed. “You know I’m here if you really want to talk. Always. Think of me as Switzerland. I’ll always be neutral ground.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Cooper! Come here for a second!” Adalyn calls from her place on a high-backed wicker chair. I glance in her direction and see she’s waving her phone in the air, eyes on us.

I look at Cooper and snort. “Have fun with that.”

“She probably wants me to give her more advice for her trip.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell her not to go?”

He laughs. “You know that wouldn’t work.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Loosen the reins a bit, man. She has a good head on her shoulders. Even if it might be full of crazy thoughts and ideas.”

Loosening the reins isn’t an easy task for me when it comes to Addie, but I don’t argue with what he said. He might not be family, but he’s been around long enough to know her just as well as I do.

“Appreciate the advice. And thank you for coming today. It means the world to Ma.”

“Just your mom? Come out and say you’re happy I was here to give you such stellar advice, Mad dog. I promise I won’t spread it around that you’re the grateful type,” he teases, grinning wide.

Rolling my eyes, I roughly pat his cheek. “Get the fuck out of my face before I smack you.”

He belts out a laugh and steps back, tossing his hands up. “You’re welcome. I’m here whenever you need me.”

I tip my head at the promise and watch as he releases an exaggerated sigh and heads toward my sister. As soon as he’s gone, that’s when the last few minutes come crashing back in.

Is what he said true? Do I hate myself for what happened more than I tried to convince myself I hatedher?

19

BRAXTON

Two days later,I’m celebrating the Vancouver Warriors’ first-round sweep in a sweaty VIP section of a club I’ve never heard of. It’s a mess of flashing lights, dirty dancing, and deep male laughter, and while I would rather be at home, I’ve learned that when Alexander Torello orders you to do something, you do it without question. Especially when you have an agreement and a selfish father hanging over your head.

I haven’t gone out to a club since university, and even then, I never really had the time to enjoy myself. Between the sickening amount of coursework, exams, and time spent at the small animal clinic that took me on for my work experience hours, fun wasn’t really a priority. But even when I did make the time, I can’t say that I was ever invited to hang out with professional players in the VIP section of a club while they complain about their rankings on the newest NHL video game.

This is entirely new territory to me, and I’m not above admitting that I feel a bit out of place.

“Hutton is the only one who didn’t get fucked by the ratings this year. I mean, they have me as an eighty overall? There’s no way!” one of the players shouts, outraged on the far end of the couch. He’s a bit rugged-looking, with a thick, bushy beard that looks like it would feel scratchy and deep bluey-purple eyes.

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