Page 11 of The Sweetest Risk

We both sit next to each other in the penalty box. I look over my shoulder and try to find Brooke in the sea of green and white. She isn’t where I last saw her. She probably left after Bradley got in a fight and didn’t see my fight – well fights – at all. I know how much she hates seeing Bradley get hurt.

“What the hell is your problem, Lawson?” The lines in between Hasting’s eyebrows deepen. I’m sure mine look the same.

“You’re my fucking problem. You listen to me.”

Hastings gives me an incredulous look, almost like he thinks what is about to come out of my mouth is a joke. It’s not.

“She’s fucking off-limits,” I tell him. “This bet is fucking over.”

“Not for me, Lawson. I thought you were a man of your word. And I thought you didn’t care about her at all.” He gives a maniacal and calculated smile. “This is going to be even more fun. Watching you squirm, knowing that you will never have her or the captain’s spot. Does Bradley know about your crush on his little sister? I’m sure he would love that.”

The urge to punch him in the face again surges through my body. The only thing stopping me from doing so is my integrity, and the fact that I don’t want Brooke to get the wrong idea of me. She’s already written a negative narrative about me in her head. I am determined to prove her wrong. I wipe my cheek and see the blood on my fingertips. I hope I don’t have to get stitches.

Once the ten minutes are up, the athletic trainer motions for me to follow him to the locker room to get assessed. As I walk back to the locker room, two thoughts cross my mind:one, Bradley can never find out about the bet and two, neither can Brooke.

9

“Why am I here right now?” I say under my breath as I make my way up the steps to his front door.Because you want to make sure he is okay.And no matter how much you hate him, he is your brother’s best friend. You’ve known him for ten years. And he fricken got in a fight with Dean and made a complete ass of himself in front of everyone. And he got laid out by the opponent before that and had to go to the locker room to get checked out after he went to the penalty box.

Tristan answers the door in just a towel.Seriously, who does that?Tristan Lawson, that’s who.

“Seriously, Hot Shot? Who answers their door in just a towel? Who were you expecting? One of your many ice girls or puck bunnies you keep on standby?”

He smirks a little. “I wasn’t expectinganyone–especially notyou, Cupcake.” He looks super confused as to why I am standing there.Join the club, buddy. “Brooke, what are you doing here?”

What? Henevercalls me Brooke. And my God, look at his face. There is a cut right on his cheekbone and another one across his eyebrow. I instinctively want to reach out and fix what is injured. But I restrain myself.

“I don’t know…” I say. “I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”Am I really going to admit this next thing to him?“I tried to go down and see you in the locker room, but security stopped me because I’m not family. Can I come in?”

Tristan hesitantly steps aside and I make my way through his doorway.

I don’t know what I expected Tristan’s place to look like. A bachelor pad? Laundry strewn everywhere. Dishes piled up in the sink. Trash bins overflowing. But I see none of that. In fact, it smells so crisp and clean. Controlled. I guess we are more alike than I thought. This is exactly how my apartment looks. The only exception is there is a stark lack of color in his house. Everything is grays and blacks. Probably to match his personality. My apartment looks like a rainbow exploded in it.

I am greeted excitedly by a couple of big dogs. I hold out my hands for them to lick and say hello. Their tails are wagging so they seem friendly enough, which is ironic since I know who their dad is. And he has been anything but friendly to me for the majority of the time that I’ve known him.

I slowly walk through the foyer that has a massive chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling. And look around. This is the nicest house I’ve ever seen. It has a modern farmhouse feel to it, which hello Chip and Joanna Gaines. I am obsessed with them. I try to go to Waco every chance I get so I can visit the Silos. Tristan’s house looks like he got the majority of his decor from their catalog.

I walk into the kitchen and run my fingers across the island as Tristan stations himself on the other side of the massive counter that is separating us. I finally shift my gaze from the countertop to Tristan and get a good look at his body. My heart leaps for a second.Calm down, you’ve seen plenty of men naked. Well not plenty, but enough. Ugh, stop staring, Brooke.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Poison?” Tristan raises an eyebrow and smirks in the process.

“Ha ha. Water is fine.” Tristan walks over to his kitchen cabinets and takes out a glass. When he reaches up, I see not only how ridiculously muscular he really is, but also the bruises that cover his torso. My goodness, he was not this muscular when we first met. Then again, he wasn’t playing in the NHL. He also has a lot more tattoos than I remember. I guess over the years, I’ve noticed a little, but I made it a point to not give Tristan any more of my attention than the obligatory hello and goodbye when he would come by my parent’s house.

My face must be contorted in a wince because Tristan says, “Is something wrong, Cupcake? You look like you’re in pain.”

“I can say the same about you.” Then some force outside of my own control takes over. I walk toward Tristan and reach out my hand, gently touching one of his bruises. “Is this from earlier?”

“Yeah. That piece of shit got me good. That’s just the nature of the game.” Tristan hands me the glass and I have to actively peel my eyes off him and grasp onto the glass. “Also, fans love a good fight.”

Geez, I don’t understand why. I mean did Tristan look incredibly hot while throwing punches…of course, I wouldnevertell him that. I couldn’t help but flinch whenever anyone ran into him. And it bothered me that Tristan was the only one I was paying attention to. I was there to watch and support my brother. But, when I saw Tristan on the jumbotron, my eyeswould automatically follow him wherever he went on the ice. It’s like he inadvertently cast a spell through the screen and I was not immune to it.

“A lot of good that gear does you. You still get hurt anyway.” I slowly caress the bruise.My goodness, what is coming over me?

“Trust me, I could look a lot worse.” I wince at the thought. I’ve hated seeing Bradley in this state all these years. Anytime he would come home from a game with cuts and bruises, I would cringe. These men must be masochists for enduring that amount of pain. I finally take a sip of the water. For some reason my mouth is turning dry every second I am near this man. And I hate him even more for that.

“Do you have a first aid kit here?”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

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