Page 37 of Barn Burner
Minutes go by without Rhett saying a word. Sighing, I glance over at him, and his brows are pinched in concern.
“What?”
“You don’t think he’s leadin’ you on?” he asks, then quickly continues when I glare at him. “I don’t mean that as in I think he is, but it’s been over a month now, and you haven’t seen him.”
“Because he’s working,” I reply defensively. “And if you haven’t noticed, this place hasn’t exactly been a breeze these last few weeks. It’s not like I could’ve left.”
The trail rides have been fully booked for the last month, meaning I’ve been out twice a day, seven days a week. Then two nights ago, we experienced high winds that caused some damage to the roof of the barn that I haven’t gotten around to fixing, as Rhett and my dad needed help fixing the broken fences in the cattle fields. We’ve also been on high alert for fires due to the dry weather and continuous high winds, so while today’s downpour has caused a mess, we’re grateful for the rain.
That also means Brayden and I haven’t been able to talk as much as I’d like, having settled for late-night video calls or texts.
“Alright.” Rhett sighs defeatedly. “I just worry ’bout you, is all.”
Turning off the tap for the hose, I walk over to Rhett and clamp my hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to worry. I’m good. We’re still figuring things out, and in a way, it’s kinda suited me ’cause I’ve been so busy here.”
He purses his lips, almost like he wants to argue, but instead, he simply nods and gives my side a clap. “Alright, if you say so. You head in, I’ll finish up with Ivy and settle her in for the night. Thanks for helpin’.”
I give him a small smile and say, “Anytime,” then say good night to Prince as I pass, heading toward the main house.
When I step inside, I’m greeted by the smell of food. The kitchen island is set up, ready with buns and a mix of toppings and condiments. Cooper is at the stove, pan-frying the hot dog sausages while Mom stands next to him, caramelizing some onions. I stomp my boots on the mat, then kick them off and shed my jacket, hanging it on the hook next to the door.
“Is there anything I can help with?” I ask, feeling a sense of relief as the warmth of the kitchen seeps into my cold body.
“No, I think we’re nearly done,” Mom replies with a smile over her shoulder. “Is your brother coming in soon?”
“Yeah, he’s just beddin’ down Ivy,” I tell her, then head down the hall to wash up. I change into some dry clothes I keep here to save me from having to go back to my house and put my damp clothes into the washing machine.
As soon as Rhett comes inside, we load up our plates with hot dogs and settle in the living room in front of the TV. Cooper skims through the channels until he finds Sportsnet. I take a large bite into my hot dog as the players come out onto the pristine white ice, skating around their offensive zone before some make their way back to the bench, while the others head to the blue line, ready for the national anthem. The camera pansthe players lined up as Mom sings along, but her words cut off with a loud gasp as a familiar face appears on the TV.
My mouth drops open, and the hot dog falls from my hand onto my plate.
His brown eyes sparkle under the arena lights, his stare fixed on something in the distance. His dark hair is damp and brushed away from his face. He’s restless, shifting his weight from skate to skate. It’s like he can’t stand still, wired with a high-intensity energy that’s eager to be let loose.
“Holy shit!” Cooper shouts, pointing at the TV.
“Is that—” comes from my dad.
“Oh my God!” Mom squeals.
Rhett’s head snaps to me, eyes widened in shock. “Did you know?”
I can’t answer. All I can do is shake my head, my hand still poised in the air. I’m unable to tear my eyes away from the man who has been at the forefront of my mind since that morning in August.
The second the music ends, he turns and skates back toward the bench to grab his helmet and does a quick lap around the back of the net, parting his legs wide and wiggling, almost like he’s loosening up his hips.
“Holy shit,” I whisper as everything begins to fall into place.
His fleeing from reality. The hesitancy around him expanding on what he does for work. The constant travelling.
Should I be mad that he hid this from me? Maybe, but I don’t feel mad. If anything, there’s this sense of relief inside me because I can understandwhyhe kept it a secret, especially when Cooper hoots, “We had an NHL player on our ranch!” Cooper smacks his thigh with his palm. “Holy shit! That’s so fucking cool. Wait ’til we tell everyone. They’re gonna be so jealous!”
“No,” I say immediately. The need to protect Brayden is brewing stronger inside me. “He had his reasons for not tellin’ us. It’s not our place to share somethin’ he didn’t share himself. If they find out for themselves, then it’s a different story.”
The man himself lines up at centre ice for the puck drop, and for the first time in a long time, I’m on the edge of my seat as I watch him. He glides across the ice so effortlessly. He has this dominating presence that makes him stand out from the rest. He’s quick to outskate the defensemen, so agile he avoids any attempts the forwards make to steal the puck from his possession.
He’s incredible.
When he skates back to the bench for a line change, I pick up my phone and type his name into the search bar, and his roster picture appears, along with his profile.
