Page 7 of Hot Shot
Two sets of concerned eyes turn toward me but it’s Oakley who speaks.
“Yeah.”
Her gaze bores into mine like she can read my mind, like if she looks hard enough she can find the answers to the questions I know she has.
“I’m staying. Give me a few days and I’ll let you know if we need to keep looking or if Bran is joining us.”
“You’re staying here?”
I see her concern, those questions that must be burning her tongue, but I can’t take the time to explain. “For now.”
“Should I worry about you? What that was about?”
Shaking my head, I give her a small smile. “No. We’re good. I’m good.”
“I don’t want to leave if?—”
“I’ll be fine. Bran isn’t who the media made him out to be.” I know I’m going on past behavior, that him up and marrying Celeste and shutting me out proved what I knew to be a lie, but I didn’t accept it then, I can’t accept now. I’ve known him for years, since the scrawny six-year-old turned up at our house and began training with my dad like the rest of us.
“No one ever is,” Oakley says, pulling in a deep breath. If anyone knows about the bullshit often printed in the media, it’s her. “Okay, keep me posted. If I don’t hear from you in…three days, I’m coming back.”
“You won’t have to. Promise.” I won’t need to worry about her coming back at that deadline. I’ll be in touch before that, and I’m determined to be at my parents’ place—with Bran—by then anyway.
Coming up the steps she pulls me into a tight hug and whispers, “Call for anything, doesn’t have to be about the Rogues.”
“Thanks. Safe trip home.” When I pull away, I wave to Walker and call out, “See you later, Cap.”
“Cap?” Oakley asks.
I’m smiling now. My first real smile since we found Bran on the floor and my heart dropped from my chest to join him. “It’s what Bran called him. I forgot he was captain of the Knights. See you both later.”
I slip back inside and close the door. I know they have questions, especially Oakley, and probably want to stick around and help, but this needs to be only me and Bran for now. We need to know—okay,Ineed to know—that we can pull some of the remnants of our previous friendship together before either of us can decide if we’re able to work together, and we can’t do that with others around.
A quick check on Bran shows he’s still sleeping in what appears to be peaceful slumber, although I’m not sure anyone who’s been through what he has can ever find peace.
Leaving him to his post-breakdown nap, I close the bedroom door except for a few inches, and explore the rest of the house.
There’s one more bedroom, barely big enough for the bed in it but at least it’s not a twin. A small functional bathroom across the hall has no wet towels or toiletries so I assume there’s a second one off Bran’s room. The living room and dining are one space with the wall that faces the trees behind the house made up of windows.
From out front, the house looks rundown and possibly inhabitable, but inside…
Inside is a revelation.
Gannon Byrd must have fixed the place up for his grandmother after he made the NHL. As I look around, I see little touches that wouldn’t have come from him or Bran. They have to be left over from the woman who lived in this house her entire life, raised Gannon in from the time he was four.
Heading for the kitchen, I grab a roll of paper towels and go back to clean up the mess Oakley made.
I can’t say I agree with her method, but she certainly got Bran’s attention.
Something I haven’t been able to do in years.
Maybe now, with both of us stuck here, he’ll have to talk to me. Have to let me in.
The crushing embrace he gave me before he broke down says there’s a crack in his armor that wasn’t there before. And all I need is a thin break, just enough to wiggle in and find my old friend.
I’d ignored Corbin’s and Landon’s words when they told me he wasn’t the same man, now and when he’d first cut me out of his life. I understood the need to change our friendship after he had a wife but the complete severing of it in such an abrupt way didn’t seem like Bran at all.
I hate to point fingers and I know I hold a small amount of jealousy toward Celeste, but how could I not?
