Page 2 of Hot Shot
I laugh at the boys’ reactions. It breaks the tension, and my body relaxes as I lean back in my chair. “They got married a couple of days ago. Just them, Oakley’s Pa, and Micky, the little boy Walker’s cousin left him guardian of.”
“I heard about that.” Mom’s face crowds out Dad’s, her concern clearly etched around her eyes, in her gaze, in the lopsided frown I remember from my childhood. “Is he okay? Micky? Does he need anything? Do they need anything? You tell Oakley to call me if they need help. Walker too. For anything at all.”
I smile at her. “I will.” Mom hums as if she knows neither of them is likely to reach out before moving out of frame again. “I promise I’ll pass on your message and remind them regularly,” I reassure in the hope of appeasing her.
Although I won’t be surprised if she sends a care package or even turns up, my dad in tow, to offer her help in person. She’s loved Oakley like a second daughter since she and I became unlikely best friends when we were young.
“Is Alcott going as Oakley’s husband or…”
Rolling my lips between my teeth, I’m the one keeping quiet now. I hope Sutton lets the question drop.
There’s been speculation in the press, but the Rogues org hasn’t made an official announcement about Walker’s employment as head coach.
Hell, there’s still chatter about his injuries and retirement. And his relationship with Oakley.
“Right. Well, when are you heading up this way?” Dad asks, clearly knowing I won’t be saying a word on the subject of Walker. “Any chance you can squeeze in a quick visit to your old man?”
It’ll be more than a quick visit if we—I—can convince Bran to sign with the Rogues but I don’t want to jinx anything by making plans yet. “Can I let you know?”
“Of course. The door is always open,” Mom says, her head slipping into frame beside Dad’s again.
“Okay, thanks.” Over the top of my monitor, I see Oakley appear in the doorway of my office; she taps her wrist reminding me we need to get moving, before disappearing. “All right, I gotta go.”
After a chorus of goodbyes from my brothers, and an I love you from both my parents, I’m left staring at Mason. He’s my oldest brother and he’s taken that title seriously my whole life. He hasn’t been a second father but at times he’s skated close to that line.
“You were quiet,” I say, hoping he wasn’t that way so he could blast me about my choices now.
“Are you sure?”
“I said I was, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you’ve never let Dad see your fears. Those you reserved for me or Mom.”
True. But then being the only girl in the middle of a pack of boys—and yes, I refer to my brothers as a pack—in a hockey family, fear is something I’ve strived to hide. “Fear is a healthy motivator.”
“It’s also a crippling emotion and a survival instinct and?—”
“Okay, okay.” I hold up a hand. “I get it.”
“Well? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Is that from a coach’s perspective or a girlfriend’s?”
“We never dated.” Not for lack of wanting on either side. Or at least I didn’t believe it was one sided.
“No? Then what would you call what you two were?”
A sigh slips free, and I rub my forehead again. “I don’t know. Best friends?”
“And yet you heard he was married through the media?”
“Mason. No one knew he was marrying her until it broke onPuck Bunny Promotions.” Fuck, I hate that blog.
“Fine.” He holds up both hands. “I’ll leave it alone. For now.”
“Thank you.”
