Page 25 of Hot Shot
I didn’t realize he’d followed me back inside and the sound of his voice so close sends a shiver down my spine. “Ah, no. She would have added the ice to the water and waited a few minutes for the ice to chill the water before dumping it over your head.”
“Cruel, cruel woman.”
“She’s not.”
He holds up a hand. “No. She’s not. I know that. I was joking. Obviously I’m so rusty at this interacting with others thing, it didn’t come out right.”
“I don’t think you’re that rusty and it was probably fine but I’m a little sensitive when it comes to the women of KAW. We’ve dealt with a lot of shit-talk over the years and I’m sure we’ll be dealing with a hell of a lot more now that the world knows about the Rogues.”
“The world? Or is it a select few who will dig at you?”
“The latter. I think most hockey fans will embrace the new team, and honestly, I don’t need to defend our choices or plans. What we’ve done so far, what we’re planning for the future, is about more than the Rogues. I think once we’re established, the team on the ice, people will see that.”
“If they don’t, fuck ’em.”
I grin. “Keep that attitude, because when the world finds out you’re signing on with the Rogues, you’re bound to get some of that shit flung your way.”
“Then I should tell you everything so there aren’t any skeletons lurking in dark closets.”
“I’m not afraid of dark closets.”
“What about the skeletons?”
“Those don’t scare me either.”
“Good. Because I’ve got a graveyard full of them. Real and otherwise.”
Branton
We’ve both finished a bowl and served ourselves a second of Blake’s chicken and vegetable soup when I start to talk. I didn’t lie. She needs to know all the skeletons in my graveyard.
Some will be easier than others to reveal and the coward that I am, I start with the easiest.
“I don’t remember it.”
Blake looks at me, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “What?”
“Fucking Celeste. Making Laura.”
She lowers the spoon back to her bowl. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Never been blackout drunk before.” The memories of waking in bed with Celeste plastered to my back and no recollection of how I got there, flashes through my head. “Or since.”
I can’t stand to stay in my seat, to look at her when I tell her the rest, so I shove my chair back and walk over to the deck railing. Wrapping my fingers around the wood, I stare off into the trees without really seeing them.
The emotions of that long ago morning assault me, and the sympathy in Blake’s eyes only add to the guilt I already feel. I don’t deserve her compassion. I don’t deserve anyone’s.
“Not even in the alcohol fueled days after I told the doctors they could kill Laura,” I mutter.
“Bran.”
Blake wraps her arms around me from behind. How she got so close without my knowledge, I don’t know, but the gentle strength of her hold eases some of the ache in my chest.
“You didn’t kill Laura. None of you killed Laura. She was already gone. The accident took her away long before you had to make that decision.”
“My brain knows that but…” I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “I gave them permission to turn the machines off.”
Blake’s hold tightens. “Without those machines, she wasn’t alive.”
